t almost seems now as if I had
been guided here. It is true that my husband has gone, but that shall
not distress me. Rodney is a drifter--I may say a natural-born drifter,
and I cannot undertake to follow him. I shall remain here. I have been
guided--" determination gleamed in her gray-green eyes,--"I shall remain
here and teach these poor people to make something of themselves."

Solon drew a long breath. My own echoed it. Hereupon little Roscoe broke
into a high-pitched recitative.

"We are now in the great boundless West, a land of rough but
kind-hearted and worthy folk, and abounding with instructive sights and
scenes which are well calculated--"

"My son," interrupted his mother, "kindly tell the gentlemen what should
be your aim in life."

"To strive to improve my natural gifts by reading and conversation,"
answered Roscoe, in one swift breath.

"Very good--_ver-ry_ good--but for the present you may _listen_. Now,
Mr. Denney--" she turned to Solon with the latest _Argus_ in her
hand,--"perusing your sheet, my eye lights upon this sentence:--"

"'Lige Brackett Sundayed in our midst. He reports a busy time of Fall
ploughing over Bethel way.'

"Why 'Sundayed,' Mr. Denney?" She smiled brightly, almost archly, at
Solon. "I dare say you would not employ 'Mondayed' or 'Tuesdayed' or
'Wednesdayed.' You _see_? The term is what we may call a vulgarism--you
perceive that, do you not?--likewise 'in our midst,' which is not
accurate, of course, and which would be indelicate if it were. Now I let
my eye descend the column to your account of a certain social function.
You say, 'The table fairly groaned with the weight of good things, and a
good time was had by all present.' Surely, Mr. Denney, you are a man not
without culture and refinement. Had you but taken thought, you could as
well have said that 'An elegant collation was served, the menu including
many choice delicacies, and the affair was widely pronounced to be most
enjoyable.'"

Solon's frightened eyes besought me, but I could not help him, and again
he was forced to meet the kindly, almost whimsically accusing gaze of
the censor, who was by no means done with him.

"Again I read here, 'The graveyard fence needs repairing badly.' Do you
not see, Mr. Denney, how far more refined it were to say 'God's acre,'
or 'the marbled city of the dead'? I now turn from mere solecisms to the
broader question of taste. Under the heading 'Hanged in Carroll County,'
I read a