The Arkansaw traveler., 1883-08-18

 Harry dosen't write, through"
 'He don't now that is strange, pet. Never mind. I'll go to the store myself to-day"
 He walked of down the road, Dorothy watching him. 1t struck her that his step was less aler. than formerly and that the shoulders were growing more bent than ever. Her dear, patien, father. With sudden realization of all tha, he was to her, she watched him until he was ou, of sight. By and by he returned, and in a eheery voice called her. She came to the wood-pile, and, sure, he had let ter
 Letters were rare in those days com pared ,o what they are now, for this IS story of thirty years ago. Sull. when Dorothy read her epistle, she found that she had missed receiving one letter, and l her hear, ached as she read her lovers wonder and regret that she had not answered. him.
 She walked in,o the kitchen where her mother was busy kneading bread. There was fash in her eyes which equalled any tha. ever burned in her mother 5, but she spoke very quietly.
 l" Il thank you tor the letter ought to have had month ago. mother.
 You'll find i, in the clock. It's been there safe ever since i, came, for any one with eyes 10 see.
 Dorothy did no: reply. She carried het precious budse. up to her own little white room. her refuge in so many weary i hours, and there she read and re-read them many times. And before an hour had passed sine had written an answer half shy. half passona e. bu, wholly sweet 10 Harry Morgan. whom it reached in due time
 Tha, autumn btough: the frs, real trouble of her lite ,e Dorothy. Her fa.her siekened and died. How strange |, seemed to be withoct father. Often and often at sunset she walked down the winding road to ,he old graveyard. and there sitting 6y the iowly mound where her lathe: slept. gathered com:oi: and courage in ;he sure know ledge that |, was well with him. He had loved the Lord. that she knew. and he had gone ,o dweli n the golden city. where they walk in white who have washed their robes m the blood of the Lamb. An unwon,ed silence fell on the household. Cross and despo,ic Is poor Mrs. Dean was. she had loved her husb lnd., and her grief was real and deep. But i, was no, grief which could be comforted. 1, repelled condolenee rather than invited it. and when Dorothy would fam have thrown her arms about the sad wo- man and whispering loving words, she was obliged to be still and refrain
 One bngh, expectation shone before her with the beauty of star. Christmas was coming. She would see Harry. and as the weeks passed, and the long storms came. shu:ting the little inland village up. at times for days. from communica- ton with the rest of the world, Dorothy lived in the though, of the pleasure they would have when Harry came home Even her sorrow for her fathers death seemed ,o fade and recede as the December days grew toward the c5th.
 Her mother observed and resented this, and on Saturday before Christmas. when her daughter. who was the orSanlS. of the little church. pu, on her cloak and boots and called Chapin to go with her for her customary practice. she said:
 Il thought you looked for young Mor- gan to be here to-day. You've been all bu, dancing and singing ever since you go, up. don't see how you can be so giddy. Dorothy. and your poor father ly- ing beneath the snow.'
 Father is happy in heaven. mother" answered Dorothy gently and I'm sure. if he can see me. he's willing for me to be glad a, Christmas. Harry will not be here till Chris,mas Eve. Come. Chapin. dear. there's 10 be more music than usual tomorrow"
 Away they tramped over the hard shin ing snow. Chapin talking quite merrily. Suddenly they passed into differen, mood.
 Fl do hope, Dora. you and Harry won't get married until I'm man. 1 never could stand lIviag alone with mother She makes fellow so blue
 Don't borrow trouble. dear. It will be years before Harry and can think of marrying. I'm afraid
 There's letter 10, you. Mrs. Dean" shouted Enoeh Pond that night. when the stage came in. !" Leas,ways it's for your darter. brought. .ipup. for didn', think you'd get to the store this evenin'"
 Thanks. called Dorothy, as Chapin ran out for it. But her heart misgave her as she took i, away upstairs and read:
 My DEAR DORA: How wretchedly disappointed am no words can tell; bu, Uncle Jared has gone west on business. and Mir. Stiles is sick-pneumonia-an I canno, ge, of I'll run up along toward spring; and here's a ribbon meant to have brought you. It is white. and you can wear II if you are in mourning. I'm sorry 10 think of you in that sad, sombre dress, darling. Do no; forget me and just fancy dozen kisses here for you. Your faithful HARRY.
 So all the joy was gone from tha, Christmas for Dorothy. People remarked how ill she played next day and the rec tor asked her if she could not give more time to practice hereafter. Spring came. but again no Harry. Summer. and he would surely return for vacation. He was looked for at home, and his letters were full of hopefulness, when 10 he was 1 sent to India on vessel as supercargo. i The wide world was between them now