too, and they went to Europe on their
bridal trip. When she come home she brought me the prettiest shawl you
ever saw. She made me stand up and shut my eyes, and she put it on my
shoulders and made me look in the lookin'-glass, and then she says,
'I brought you a new quilt pattern, too, grandma, and I want you to
piece one quilt by it and leave it to me when you die.' And then she
told me about goin' to a town over yonder they call Florence, and how
she went into a big church that was built hundreds o' years before I
was born. And she said the floor was made o' little pieces o' colored
stone, all laid together in a pattern, and they called it mosaic. And
says I, 'Honey, has it got anything to do with Moses and his law?' You
know the Commandments was called the Mosaic Law, and was all on tables
o' stone. And Henrietta jest laughed, and says she: 'No, grandma; I
don't believe it has. But,' says she, 'the minute I stepped on that
pavement I thought about you, and I drew this pattern off on a piece
o' paper and brought it all the way to Kentucky for you to make a
quilt by.' Henrietta bought the worsted for me, for she said it had to
be jest the colors o' that pavement over yonder, and I made it that
very winter."

Aunt Jane was regarding the quilt with worshipful eyes, and it really
was an effective combination of color and form.

"Many a time while I was piecin' that," she said, "I thought about
the man that laid the pavement in that old church, and wondered what
his name was, and how he looked, and what he'd think if he knew there
was a old woman down here in Kentucky usin' his patterns to make a
bedquilt."

It was indeed a far cry from the Florentine artisan of centuries ago
to this humble worker in calico and worsted, but between the two
stretched a cord of sympathy that made them one--the eternal
aspiration after beauty.

"Honey," said Aunt Jane, suddenly, "did I ever show you my premiums?"

And then, with pleasant excitement in her manner, she arose, fumbled
in her deep pocket for an ancient bunch of keys, and unlocked a
cupboard on one side of the fireplace. One by one she drew them out,
unrolled the soft yellow tissue-paper that enfolded them, and ranged
them in a stately line on the old cherry center-table--nineteen
sterling silver cups and goblets. "Abram took some of 'em on his fine
stock, and I took some of 'em on my quilts and salt-risin' bread and
cakes," she said, impressively.

To the artist his med