The Montgomery advertiser., 1907-09-23

gaze that made her feel drowsy. 'TBut no, will not exercise the power" said HoiErave with a sudden upward motion of his hands that sent Phoebe wide awake again.
 You are as bad as the old Maules," laughed Phoebe. T have heard it said that a Maule could always influence the dreams of Pyncheon."
 This set Holgrave off into long line of metaphysical and psychological talk. facts, speculation and theory-for he was still a very young man, and, more over, he was @ young man who had not found his place in life. It was not his fault. for he had sought 1t dili- gently, never sticking to one thing long. Just now he was practieing the then new art of "daguerreotypist for a living, and flirting with Fourierism by way of diversion. In his culture and want of culture; in his crude. wild and misty philosophy and the practical experience that had enumerated some of its tendencies; in his magnanimous zeal for mans welfare and in his reck- Iessness of what the ages had estab- lished in mans behalf, the young man might fitly stand forth as the represen- tative of many compeers in his native land.
 Shall we never get rid of thts past?" said he to Phoebe ag they sat by the margin of Maules well and saw the evening shadows fall over the like a giants dead body. In fact. 1t Is just as if a young giant were com pelled to waste all his strength in car rying about the corpse of a dead giant. Just think moment and 1t will startle you to see what slaves we are to by gone times-to Death, to give 1t the proper word. A dead man sits in our s,,5 nd hn ltNiuer ind do but search out and repeat his de- cisions. We read in dead mems books. We laugh at dead mems jokes and cry at dead mems pathos. We are sick of dead mems diseases, physical, mental and moral. And we live in dead mems houses as, for instance, in this House of Seven Gables.'
 And why not?" asked the simple village maiden to whom half of the young mans rhapsody was Greek. But she liked to hear him talk that way.
 Tn the summer house Clifford sat with half closed eyes listening to the pleas ant voices of the young people and gazing at a great white rose bush whose snowy blooms climbed up one corner of the ancient house. In the shop Hepzibah was making mistakes fin change and prices, which 1t would take Phoebe all the next day to straighten out again. Yet all four were happy clifford in the roses and in the young life and love that he saw developing before him; the young people in their own companionship; and Hepzibah in the knowledge that her brother was happy.
 ''The fact is," said Holgrave by way of a parting chunk of solid wisdom. that each generation should be ob- liged to build It's own house. When q man dies his house should be destroyed. For a man to build house for his pos terity fs as absurd as ordering a dura- ble suit of clothes for his posterity." Phoebe, though she did not agree with thA youth at all was impressed with the profundity of the remark. 'FYou speak as if you believed that Wizard Maule's curse was really over this old house." laughed she.
 T do" earnestly replied Holgrave. Look at those gables. Under them have been for the greater part of three centuries. perpetual remorse. constant Iy defeated hope. strife among kindred, strange forms of death, dark suspicion, unspeakable disgrace, It all comes from trying to found a family"
 "There's the supper bell" cried Phoebe, whose appetite was healthy 'Tsome, Cousin Clifford"
 It having been decided now that Phoebe should make her home perma- nently henceforth in the House of Seven cables. she packed her travelling bag one morning and departed for a brief farewell visit to her old village home For poor, gentle clifford the liRht went