The daily morning journal and courier., 1900-03-17

llttle rect had taken thelr lllSI ullSleduS
 steps across the floor. How well she
 remembered that day and how prouo
 she had felt of her son He was such
 a fine big baby. She had placed him
 against a chair, and he had looked ur
 at her with round eyes of wonder; then,
 when her meaning came to him, he had
 not hesitated a moment, he had thrown
 back his little head, and, with scream
 of delight, walked bravely forward right
 into her loving, waiting arms. And
 noW-now- She brushed aside her
 tears, for she heard father coming.
 Father entered the room quickly, but
 paused on the threshold, To tell the
 truth he had thought mother down.
 stairs. He had been trying to remem-
 ber that day when Bob had ridden the
 new pony for the first time so pluckily,
 whether the lad had been preached or
 not. He knew the picture was on moth
 a's dressing table, and he had come
 ifi to look at it, and there stood mother
 with the photograph in her hand
 "Humph!" exclaimed father ''so you
 have not gone down?" and his voice
 was not coneiliatory, for he felt that every one on that morning, himself in> cluded was wearing his heart on h'a sleeve, and a sense of lost dignity was ! irritating him.
 { Mothers heart swelled at the tone; she put down the photograph and look ! ed up at father with q look in which re- proach and sorrow mingled, and then 1 suddenly she turned aside and her
 hands bused themselves among the {! brushe0 and trays on the dressing table, l for her quick eye had detected that fa-
 ther was wearing odd b9otG-a buttoned i and a laced up one To think of .tt! He, the soul of precision, and thus to
 betray himself. But there his abstrac tion stood confessed And oh, how mother loved him for it! He had been such a stoic. too. Well, there was no ac- counting for mans ways, but thank God, he had pu cn Cdd boots that m ln- ing, She no longer felt lonely in her grief He cared, too; his heart was ach- ing also for their GonIs departure. Oh, those blessed odd boots!
 But she knew his nature, and stood for a moment wondering how best to tell him of his mistake without annoy ing him. And presently mother on her way downstairs, tapped at the dressing room outer door. One of your lace bcotl," she said. II stumbled over it. have put 1t down outside" Then she waited until she heard father swearing softly to himself. Then she knew mat ters would right themselves and went downstairs.
 At breakfast somehow nobody had much to say, Bob wanted to talk, but felt that his one topic-hte luck at be-
 ing sent to the front-would not be exactly congenial to his lieteners, So he refrained, and ate hearty break fast
 He would carry the memory of his last meal away with him to the far off land. The tender face of mother, smil- ing bravely from behind the bubbling, steaming urn; the dainty spread table; the pleasant. luxurious room, with it's handsome pictures; the broad bow Win- dow, from which he could see the dear old garden where he had played as a child; the loving eyes of Nell beaming upon his across the table, Yes. home Wae home although he was the luclSiest subalteran in the service.
 by anu DS lHG U dH NdS GU tue uopi, and the servants gathered in the hall to wish him good luck and Godspeed. Bob shook hands with them all and thanked them, and then he stood with mother in the porch-aone. He could not see her face distinctly for the mist across his eyes; and the next moment he and father were walking quickly down the drive, along which the dogcart was go- ing elowly forward to await them at the gates beyond. Father remarked that the new gamekeeper was giving satis- faction, and that there was every pros pect of the covers yielding better sport the next autumn.
 We shall have you home again before then, my boy" he said.
 Rather, sir.'' answered Bob; i've shall not take long to settle this affair"
 At the lodge, the gamekeeper's fsur boys were standing in a row. They had three cornered paper hats on their heads and woden swords in their hands. And Bob laughed and gave them a penny | each, You must keep up your drill- | ing" he said. we shall be wanting new recruits in the re egiment by and by.'
 And then the gate was opened and | Bob climbed to the back seat of the | cart. Far away at the house something l nuttered white from a window, and Bob | took out his handkerchief and signall- ed back again. Then the boys cheered | afresh, and the trap turned into the | lane, and home was already thing of | the past.
 As they drove through the village | there was not doorway that had not | some one standing on the threshold to | bid him Godspeed.
 "'Tis the young squire off to the war" they cried to one another, a,s1 the mems eyes flashed and their voices 'ose; but the Women's eyes filled with ears as they saw him drive past. God | 1eep him. they said, and comfort his heart!" For they knew that he men gave willingly their lives for heir country, but that the gift of the women was something dearer than life.
 And all the while Bob's heart was singing to him. he did not know that he song had come down to him from he long ago time when the Sea Kings lad gone forth with their battle songs o be the terror and conquerors of dis ant lands. He did not know; but it vas so and twas a goodly heritage, of which Bob in his joy and impatience ecked little.
 e, tot pl,oI o,,l ho l