The anti-monopolist. [volume] (Saint Paul, Minn.) 1874-1878, 1875-06-03

different. Here her thoughts wandered
off to the young medical student, the son
of her fathers dear old friend, who had
visited them two years ago, and then
gone East, promising to return when he
Should graduate, and she was suddenly
recalled by her partners voice, as they
Joined hands and "went down the mid
die" for the old-fashioned reel was the
favorite dance in the questionable town.
The evening wore away and the guests
departed one by one. The doctor fell
asleep in his easy chair and only Philip
Blake loitered by the open window gaz-
ing at the myriad stars and listening to
the faint rustic made by the sultry
breeze among the leaves in the orchard.
A lonely bird, frightened at some distant
sound, reused itself from its leafy cover,
uttered melancholy cry and huttered
heavily to another tree. The young man
watched it's aimless course, saw it sink d.
rectly among the branches. and llkened
it, somewhat bitterly. to himself; his
onely, uncared-for life, his ann
less existence--there the likeness stop
ped. No friendly shelter, no resting
place, close-folded by love for him. tie
knew himself to be unworthy of the fair
girl who stepped softly about the room.
rearranging the scattered furniture, lay
ing the stamp of sweet and quiet guld'
ing spirit upon everything she touched;
he had not meant even to tell her how he
loved her, yet the spirit was upon. him,
and calling her to his side he held her
fast, and in the solemn quiet falling from
the stars, he poured out all his soul to
her; told her his mistake in life. but
that, if she could only trust him, love
him little, he would begin to live In
solemn earnest for her sweet sake and
for the sake of God. Love made him
reverent, and purposes and desires un-
dreamed of before fired his soul with en-
ergy and purpose. She could not stay
the tide of his glowing words, but even as
he spoke his eager eyes read her answer
in her earnest and piteous ones, and he
knew that his pleadings were in vain. She
had no need to tell him so; she only
sobbed out her regrets, bitter and USE
less; and he, with the chivalry that true
manhood teaches, silenced the pain
in his heart till she was
somewhat comforted, and then went out
into the lonely street, and so down to the
rivers edge, wondering what next. This
was the first cup of disappointment, which
life had forced him to drink hitherto no
advantages or triumphs had seemed to
him worth the pains taken to gain them.
and the chief faults Of his nature were
his sluggishness of temperament and his
passive acceptance of circumstances,
which had more than once led him into
difficulties which, in less generous OF
less naturally honorat lie man. would sure
| ly have proven the high road to ru
Hitherto he had avoided the meaner vices
Of those companions with whom fate had
thrown him, and whom he had not tried
to avoid now he felt that his future life
would hold the image of one sweet girl,
which, like An amulet, would keep him
pure. He did not blame her. only him
self. for the hasty speech which could
never be recalled, and his wife was not OF
nature to turn bitter under disappcint-
ment. "Well,' he thinks, life has
something left still, and l Am not one to
throw it away for the sake Of . woman,
if she be the one of all the world for me. .
| How hot it grew while he paced up and
down. The breeze, which had been grad
ually increasing for the last hour. blew
now with fury from the west-a scorch'
ing wind, like that blowing over acres Of
fire. Stay; what Vas that cloud upon
the hill top, that fiery tongue creeping
across its rim, licking along the stubble
fields, wrapping the dry fences in blazing
garments. What is this fierce glare thai
lights the heavens through half their cir
Gle, and turns all the earth to the sickly
hue Of blood. And this cracking sound
IS Of thousand demons, treadiug dowr
the dry stubble Of the fields. Fire in th,
fields, thought Phillip; and tonight, o
oil nights, With such . wind, and TIM
frightful heat for three days past. Well
its got to burn; there's no stopping i
now. Thank heaven, its on the othel
side Of the river; that's al. He watched
it noment, then, with sudden pans.
of heart, followed by aspasm Of beating
he SAW the growing column waver. trem
BILE, the smoke blow southwark toward
the town; then, With . furious plunge
the moving mass swept dovnwards tovar'
the rivers bank. Heavens! the wins
has changed. He knew the bridge lay
right in the way Of the destroying army
that once caught. then the depot. the
: the whole town must 60: and Susie--
y Only . moment, and his clear, stron,
voice rang out, Fire! fire!'' They hear,
: it even to the doctors, on the hill: an
J men, women and children came pourin
. out; the old man raised from the slum
/ Der in his chair, and the Young girl VII
|, had sobbed BY his side. in her thin, whit
! dress many startled from their sleeF
came with wrappers thrown loosely abou
; them, or with garments awry. A
. throneed down near the bridge wher
: Philip stood, and where the men wer
: hurriedly discussing the danger, only to
!. evident now. On swept the royal elemen
{ soaring the few trees in its route. leapin
creeks. and stealing down to the edge
q the river, catching on the festoons Of vii
d roses and wax berries, kissing on Il
= damp mud, retiring for : moment the
n reneu wing the assault now creeping cso.
e to the ground, shrouded in the den