Nevada County picayune., 1891-11-26

"Very jolly, dear" said the brave little mother, remembering an even- ing ten years agone, as gay as heart could wish, followed by day the darkest she had ever known. She never saw John sherman since the hour when she had sent away from her the strong arm and the strong, true heart.
 But in spite of the heartache, she told over and over the stories she had told thousand times before, and sang the little songs Ned liked to year, until, as the clock struck, she said: Do you know, my dear, that it is 8 o'clock, and l must run down to Mrs. Greens with her dress. She couldn't keep Thanksgiving without it; half of her praises would be left out if she could not sing them in a velvet gown.
 ''So you just sit right here in this chair. l will not be gone more than twenty minutes you can stay alone that little bit of awhile, can't you!"
 It was a brave little voice that an swercd "of course l can. I'll just think about the farm ard the horses. l think I'll have gray horses, any way"
 Ruth threw long black cloak over her bright gown. It covered up her shabbiness, did this friendly wrap, when from her work she had to run to market, and now it covered her unwonted gay attire. She had a passion for color; rich, warm hues thrilled her like music. She said she felt like another woman when dressed in the glowing, rich, warm cardinal wrapper with it's flowing folds. Always when Ned wished some indulgence which she felt ob- liged to deny him, he would say, Il know you'd say yes, mamma, if you had on pretty dress or pretty ribbon at your throat"
 As she hastened down the street with her bundle, in the face of the keen November wind, she thought of all her broken dreams, of the weary years passed by the side of the man who made every hour torture, of his wretchcd hfe and more wretchcd death, of the one who, somewhere in the world-in a world widely differ ent from her own-lived forgetful of her.
 She thought of the years to come weary, lonely years she thought they must be, yet she wanted to live them. For the sake of the child she prayed to live. She prayed, too, that her trials might not make her hard or bitter.
 On her way back home she stop ped at the grocer's and made various little additions to their prospective Thank >civing dinner. The fresh air iu,ig"ralrd and cxhilaratcd her, and hy tlI time >,c reached her own gate she raised grateful eyes to the stars that shone so brightly above her. "They are always there, she said revercntly, "however dark it seems. Good IS good. His tender mercies are over all his works, and what is best for me he will not with, hold.
 She went up the walk saying soft ly to herself that restful poem oi Burroughs:
 The stars come nightly to the sky,
 The dcws fall on the thirsty lea:
 Nor time nor space nor deep nor high.
 Can keep my own away from me.
 What matter if I stand alone.
 wait with joy the coming years;
 My heart shall reap where it has sown,
 And gathered up the fruit of tcan.
 The room looked very pleasant tC her as she opened the door-the brighter fire, and sweetest, fairest sight of all, her boy curled up in the rocker fast asleep. He reused al her coming. She had just loosened the heecy crimson cloud around her head and unclasped the cloak, when there came rap at the door. Quick as flash came the thought, "There' s something wrong with the dress-a button to move or seam to take in the hundredth part of an inch. "
 She opened the door. No pack. age was thrust in her hands, no small boy was there with disagreeable errand on his lips. Instead, a tall man, bronzed and bearded stood without.
 "Come in," she said, in reply tC his inquiry if Mrs. Gray lived there.