, 1896-04-04

terrible energy. He needed money far
his work, and m%ortagaged his land al d
goods. All might yet have been we'll.
That summer there werc no haryes,s.
The rains cams as siest ind the frosts
early. That was the Ind. He still
worked, but had no hope He was ST.
lent, and only spoke bitterly when
| words came.
He was not alone. When he came
westward he brought with him a young
wife. Then she vas pretty, AMI soft,
with yellow hair and dimples. She lost,
with the years, her dimples and soft
ness and %prettiness. Her hair became
dull. She worked with her husband,
but only with result while hope en-
dured. AS he grew hopeless she grew
l~istless. AS he became silent, she be-
came g%arrulous. Talking to herself
persistently. mortgage and ~poor-house.
and were work her themes.
There were two children in the home
the girl and the boy. The boy was
the older. He had been born when
hopes were abundant. He was yellow
| haired. as his mother had been. He
could mo- be wholly unhappy. He was
careless-very much of a boy. He
worked little and whistled much. His
father never reprOved him, but his mo-
Their often. Yet he was her only Joy,
The girl was different. She had seen
but care since her eyes first opened.
She was thin and small, as yet scarcely
more than a baby. She worked at her
little tasks with a quiet persistence.
When her work was over, she sat with
clasped hands and watched her mother
at her work. Her mother was always
at work. The child heard her mothers
ceaseless hopeless talking of evils come
and coming, and her eyes kept growing
larger, and her face thinner. Her faith
er seemed never tt notice her. Her
mother said: "She is a very good child,
indeed"
Thus those four were living the year
that brought the change. The mort
gage was due that summer. Times
were still depressed. There was only
gloomy uncertainty in the distance,
despair at hand. That was the spring
when the mines were again topics of
much talk. While the year was yet
young. little groups Of prospectors had
often passed by the log house. They
talked much of some lost ledge in this
neighborhood. Phil-the boy-became
excited hearing them. He admired
greatly their picks and rough clothing.
He spent days himself, in the nearer
camps. The baby did not understand
1t at all. Father and mother never
spoke of mines or miners.
The spring came on fully. The little
stream poured down abundance Of wa
snow left half unmelted in its haste.
Every thing was full of life. The noun
tains at base became robed in all bright
colors by the nesting of the fond flow
ers. There came rich promise. farther
up. of bushes to be laden later on with
the sweet, fragrant raspberry. As the
early summer came. rains came with
her. rains as in the east. warm. life
giving. The grass, Vol to be hay,
grew as a thought. Sometimes n
could see the gathered mists of mois-
ture, yellow with pollen from the tenn
ing life. The promise was rich, but 1t
brought no happiness to the dwellers
by the mountain side. The fruition
was not for them. They had sown the
h%arvests that others should reap.
Yet. as the time drew near to leave,
the place became home, and very dear.
The father watched each shadow on the
mountains breast as he never had be-
fore. The wife grew tender al she fed
the chickens at the door. The baby
picked the mountain flowers, and cried
softly when they faded SO quickly. The
boy forgot to whistle when he drove
the cattle home. The week came when
the last butter was churned. Somehow
1t did not seem, as 1t once had, such a
weary task to the woman She waited
for the butter to come with an unex-
pressed hope that it might be long In
coming. A tear splashed on the edge
Of the churn when the rich, yellow
flecks began to be see in the white.
She wiped her ayes and worked faster.
Wnen the last yellow pound lay mould
ed in Its cool place. with the cloth
spread over all. she gave up. She sat
down on her wooden stool and began
to cry
Its the last time" she moaned; the
last time I'll make butter here. and
they always said mine was best of all.
o. dear. o. dear! How Phil used to
watch me do 1t when he could just
crawl. and he'd touch each mould and
say, pretty, so pretty Dear me, oh,
dear me! l never thought I'd com to
this. What would my poor mother say
to Q her Ella thus. Oh! Oh! Ohw
She stopped for want Of breath. Lit
tie Ella watched her with startled eyes,
but did not o from her seat. Her
mother began again: Seeing it's all
over, I'll kill the chickens and send
them too to market with the butter.
They'll be no good to US now, wherever
we're going. Oh, dear. dearr
She dried her eyes and started up.
On her way OFT two little hands clutch
Id har dross Mamma aha heard