the county paper
and paid for by the relatives of the deceased at the rate of a dollar
a day for the time spent on them, or by a few days of board and lodging
glory and consolation that was, alas! too cheap, as one might see by a
glance at his forlorn figure. I shall never forget the courtly manner,
so strangely in contrast with the rude deportment of other men in that
place, with which he addressed the chairman and the people. The drawling
dialect of the vicinity that flavoured his conversation fell from him
like a mantle as he spoke and the light in his soul shone upon that
little company a great light, as I now remember, that filled me with
burning thoughts of the world and its mighty theatre of action. The way
of my life lay clear before me, as I listened, and its days of toil and
the sweet success my God has given me, although I take it humbly and
hold it infinitely above my merit. I was to get learning and seek some
way of expressing what was in me.

It would ill become me to try to repeat the words of this venerable
seer, but he showed that intemperance was an individual sin, while war
was a national evil. That one meant often the ruin of a race; the other
the ruin of a family; that one was as the ocean, the other as a single
drop in its waters. And he told us of the full of empires and the
millions that had suffered the oppression of the conqueror and perished
by the sword since Agamemnon.

After the debate a young lady read a literary paper full of clumsy
wit, rude chronicles of the countryside, essays on 'Spring', and like
topics--the work of the best talent of Faraway. Then came the decision,
after which the meeting adjourned.

At the door some other boys tried 'to cut me out'. I came through the
noisy crowd, however, with Hope on my arm and my heart full of a great
happiness.

'Did you like it?' she asked.

'Very much,' I answered.

'What did you enjoy most?'

'Your company,' I said, with a fine air of gallantry.

'Honestly?'

'Honestly. I want to take you to Rickard's sometime?'

That was indeed a long cherished hope.

'Maybe I won't let you,' she said.

'Wouldn't you?'

'You'd better ask me sometime and see.'

'I shall. I wouldn't ask any other girl.'

'Well,' she added, with a sigh, 'if a boy likes one girl I don't think
he ought to have anything to do with other girls. I hate a flirt.'

I happened to hear a footfall in the snow behind us, and looking back
saw Ann Jane Foster going s