an enter into
the rollicking pride of Teddy over the little stranger. At times, his
manifestations were fairly uproarious, and it became necessary to
check them, or to send him further into the woods to relieve himself
of his exuberant delight.

Harvey lingered upon the threshold, gazing dreamily away at the
mildly-flowing river, or at the woods, through which for a
considerable distance, he could trace the winding path which his own
feet had worn. Cora, his wife, stood beside him, looking smilingly
down in his face, while her left hand toyed with a stray ringlet that
would protrude itself from beneath her husband's cap.

"Cora, are you sorry that we came into this wild country?"

The smile on her face grew more radiant, as she shook her head without
speaking. She was in that pleasant, dreamy state, in which it seems an
effort to speak--so much so that she avoided it until compelled to do
so by some direct question.

"You are perfectly contented--happy, are you?"

Again the same smile, as she answered in the affirmative by an
inclination of the head.

"You would not change it for a residence at home with your own people
if you could?"

The same sweet denial in pantomime.

"Do you not become lonely sometimes, Cora, hundreds of miles away from
the scenes of your childhood?"

"Have I not my husband and boy?" she asked, half reproachfully, as the
tears welled up in her eyes. "Can I ask more?"

"I have feared sometimes, when I've been in the village, that perhaps
you were lonely and sorrowful, and often I have hurried my footsteps
that I might be with you a few moments sooner. When preaching and
talking to the Indians, my thoughts would wander away to you and the
dear little fellow there. And what husband could prevent them?" said
Harvey, impulsively, as he drew his wife to him, and kissed her again
and again.

"You must think of the labor before you."

"There is scarcely a moment of my life in which I don't, but it is
impossible to keep you and him from my mind. I am sorry that I am
compelled to leave you alone so often. It seems to me that Teddy has
acted in a singular manner of late. He is absent every afternoon. He
says he goes hunting and yet he rarely, if ever, brings anything back
with him."

"Yesterday he returned shortly after you left, and acted so oddly, I
did not know what to make of him. He appeared very anxious to keep me
at a distance, but once he came close enough for me to catch his
breath