his sickness demanded. Never
once did she murmur; never once did her faith in him waver. And when
he was well enough to be moved back, it was money that she had earned,
increased by what Col. Mason, in his generosity of spirit, took from
his own narrow means, that paid their second-class fare back to the
South.

During the fever-fits of his illness, the wasted politician first
begged piteously that they would not send him home unplaced, and then
he would break out in the most extravagant and pompous boasts about
his position, his Congressman and his influence. When he came to
himself, he was silent, morose, and bitter. Only once did he melt. It
was when he held Col. Mason's hand and bade him good-bye. Then the
tears came into his eyes, and what he would have said was lost among
his broken words.

As he stood upon the platform of the car as it moved out, and gazed at
the white dome and feathery spires of the city, growing into grey
indefiniteness, he ground his teeth, and raising his spent hand, shook
it at the receding view. "Damn you! damn you!" he cried. "Damn your
deceit, your fair cruelties; damn you, you hard, white liar!"

AN OLD-TIME CHRISTMAS

When the holidays came round the thoughts of 'Liza Ann Lewis always
turned to the good times that she used to have at home when, following
the precedent of anti-bellum days, Christmas lasted all the week and
good cheer held sway. She remembered with regret the gifts that were
given, the songs that were sung to the tinkling of the banjo and the
dances with which they beguiled the night hours. And the eating! Could
she forget it? The great turkey, with the fat literally bursting from
him; the yellow yam melting into deliciousness in the mouth; or in
some more fortunate season, even the juicy 'possum grinning in brown
and greasy death from the great platter.

In the ten years she had lived in New York, she had known no such
feast-day. Food was strangely dear in the Metropolis, and then there
was always the weekly rental of the poor room to be paid. But she had
kept the memory of the old times green in her heart, and ever turned
to it with the fondness of one for something irretrievably lost.

That is how Jimmy came to know about it. Jimmy was thirteen and small
for his age, and he could not remember any such times as his mother
told him about. Although he said with great pride to his partner and
rival, Blinky Scott, "Chee, Blink, you ought to hear my ol' lady t