The Press., 1892-10-20

blindly deemed better, before was lllu- mined with the glories of the new faith, and saw the New Jerusalem with eyea of hope"
 Miss Clitheroe rejoined us. She had been absent only moment, but, as 1 could see, long enough for tears, and the repression of tears. I should have pitied her more; but she seemed, ill her stout hearted wolnanhood, above pity, asking no more than the sympathy the brave have always ready for the sorrowful brave.
 Evidently to change the subject, she engaged Brent again in his tea table of fees. looked at that passionate fellow with some anxiety. He was putting large share of earnestaess in his manner of holding cups and distributing hard tack.
 MT. Clitheroe grew more and more genial as we became better acquainted. He praised the sunshine and the climate. England had nothing like it, so our host asserted. The atmosphere of England crushed the body, as it's moral atlnos- phere repressed perfect freedom of thought and action.
 "Yes, gentlemen" said he, II have es- capped at last into the region have long ed for. mean to renew my youth in the Promised Land-to have my life over again, with store of the wisdom of age."
 Then he talked pleasantly of the incl dents of his journey-an impossible be- ing, taking easily the color of the mo ment, like 8 child.
 "Think of it, sir" he said, 'I have seen real Indians, splendid fellows, all in their war paint; just such as 1 used to read of with delight in your MT. Feni- more's tales. And these prairies, too I seem to have visited them already in the works of your charming MT. Irving "a very pleasant author, very pleasant indeed, and quite reminding me of our best essayists; though he has an Ameri- can savor too. MT. Irving, think, did not come out so far as this. This region has never been described by any one with poetic eye. My brethren ill the Church of the Latter-day have their duties of stern apostleship; they cannot turn aside to the right hand nor to the left. But when the saints are gathered in they will begin to see the artistic features of their land.
 "Those Wind River mountains-fine name, by the way-that saw from the South pass-they seem to me quite an ideal Sierra. Their blue edges and gleaming snow peaks were great society for us as we came by. We are very fond l of scenery, sir, my daughter and l, and this breadth of effect is very impressive after England. England, you know, sir, is tame-a snug little place, but quite q prison for people of scope. Lancashire my, old home, is very pretty, but not grand; quite the contrary. I have grown really quite tired of green grass and we'll kept lawns and the shaved, beard less, effeminate look of my native coun- | try. This rough nature is masculine. Il reminds me of the youth of the world. | like to be in the presence of strong | forces. l am not afraid of the Orsol feeling.
 Besides, in Lancashire, particularly we never see the sun: we see smoke; we breathe smoke; smoke spells the fragranct and darkens the hue of all our life.
 hate chimneys, sir; have seen great fo" tunes go up them. might perhaps tel you something of my own experience il 1 looking up a certain tall chimney not | hundred miles from Clitheroe, and seein: ancestral acres fly up it, and ancestra pictures and splendid old mansion al going off in smoke. But you are d stran | ger and do not care about hearing my 1 old gossip. Besides, what is the loss O. | houses and lands if one finds the pear | of great price, and wins the prophet. crown and the saints throne?"
 And here the gray haired, pale, dream, old gentleman paused, and a half quench ed fire glimmered in his eye. His childish fanatical ambition stirred him, and b. smiled with T look of triumph. was silent ill speeches. pity.
 His daughter turned and smiled witt almost fearful tenderness upon her father
 "I have not heard you sQ aninared fo B long time. dear father," she sad. ''M:' | Wade seems quite to inspire you
 "Yes. my dear; he has been talking ol many very interesting topics. I had really done nothing but to bov and utter those civil monosyllables whicl are the "Hear! hear!' of conversation. If l had been silent, Brent had not | While the garrulous old gentleman Wal prattling on at full speed, had hear( all the time my friends low, nelodiou voice as he talked to the lady. He W." trained artist in the fine art of sym | pathy. His own early sorrows ha' made him infinitely tender with all tha suffer. To their hearts he came as ont that had a right to enter, as one tha knew their malady, and was commands to lay gentle touch of soothing there