wrestled when in college.

"How she will surprise the boys and her father when they come back,"
reflected the parson; "it won't take her much longer to reach the
point beyond which I cannot lead her."

To her friends who remained, the growth and improvement of the girl
were astonishing. Probably no one of her sex ever gave nature itself a
better chance to show what she can do with a healthy frame, when
untrammeled by the fashions and requirements of modern usages. Her
lithe, comely figure was perfect. She never knew an hour's illness.
The cheeks had the rose tint of health, the eyes were clear, the teeth
perfect and her spirits buoyant. As one of the men expressed it, she
was like a burst of sunshine in the settlement.

But Parson Brush was thoughtful. He saw that she was crossing the line
into young womanhood, and that her own interests demanded that she
should go out into the world of which he had told her so much; that
she should meet those of her own sex and learn the mysteries of her
own being. The affection of her friends could not make up for this
lack. It cost the honest fellow many a pang when he thought of this,
but his consolation lay in the inevitable conclusion that nothing
could be done until the return of her parent or until his wishes were
made known.

"If it so happens that he shall fall in battle, then a grave problem
must be met. It will not do for her to remain here; I will talk it
over with the others and we shall make some arrangement for her good,"
and with this conclusion he was content to await the issue of events.

Occasionally the parson received a letter from the father. The
missives were models in their way, telling of his experiences in the
service of the battles, of the prospect of victory and his faith in
the final triumph of the great struggle. He thanked the teacher for
his interest in his child and assured him that his kindness would
never be forgotten by father or daughter.

Vose Adams continued his frequent journeys to Sacramento, for those
were stirring times and he was as anxious as his friends for news.
Always on his return he was met by Nellie some distance down the
winding trail, and, as soon as she was in sight, he held up the plump
letter for which she yearned, and over which she was made happy beyond
expression, and he never failed to carry back with him the reply of
the child, who knew how much it cheered the brave soldier in the
distant East and South fighting the ba