Arizona republican., 1910-12-26

Let me see, he said, eagerly. There IS the old house the hill. It still belongs me- believe. l suppose that with a wing chimney some pazzas. that would do if it theirs"
 Why, perfectly Charles! And enough. besides to keep the wolf away" she added anxiously
 We will have a fine time together. putting it into shape. You and l."
 You will possibly have some Eastern rugs?"
 And worries. and potteries and gods and devils"
 Let us say nothing about it Let us just do it, And oh, how delightful their surprise and joy will be! And the flush and sparkle and smile made the old woman, for the moment. almost young again
 Tt will seem, he said. what it might have seemed forty years ago"
 4If you-or I-had had friend in the India trade"
 By love, You think it hilarious-this living ones life vicariously"
 The lot of old age Our happiness in theirs
 They were silent brief space
 fou will be lonely. Eugenia." then he said An gela being gone"
 Not long At most, not long"
 The deaths head at the feastw
 When the years have robbed and stripped us. death reaches kind hand restoring our birth right"
 T have not your equanimity. I do not want death l want life. full and abounding, and more of itw
 You should go, your way back and take those baths of high frequency or potency, or what ever. that they give in Paris for the new lease of life"
 Not without you"
 T expect to have it, without going farther than across the Dark River"
 Strange, he said, presently. that the old theo- logical imagining, which spoke in hymns of our being bathed hereafter, in rivers Of light antici- pated the scientific possibility"
 She sat with her needle on her lip thinking
 How happy" she said, looking up, the softly gleaming eyes msting with unshed tear-"how happy Angela and Francis will be-"
 The summer wind brought them strain of the song Angela was singing in a voice slender but sweet as the sound of flute over water:
 Like rose the morning breaks
 Day is dear, and night is deep
 Love be with her when she wakes
 Love be with me while I sleepl"
 He reached with the hooked handle of his stick for long, loose spray of the yellow Persian rose. and brought it down to catch thorns in her lace and make a scarf across her shoulders with one great blossom and half hundred buds
 Like rose the morning breaks" he repeated We used to sing that song ourselves Eugenia When Francis sings it, think I hear your golden again
 Inc rose, sad the old man, still gazing at her "has been the companion and symbol of love in all generations. It is immortal as love. Buried in graves thousand years it will bloom again And love that has been love is equally imper- ishable. Now l you you were-with that heavenly smile. What will you do without me. Eugenia:"
 What have done before:" she answered lightly "If you go back overseas l shall be looking for letter-may I not? Tomorrow it will be coming And then shall be looking for another. And life will be full of tomorrows-such glad tomorrowsP But If l do back"
 Then there is the wicket gate between the gard ems"
 Cold comfort. Eugena." "Oh, In winter the will be swept away. In the path will be strewn with fallen flowers"
 "You were leaning there evening with the sweet brier blossoms embowering you, when the moon came up and shone full upon you" "It behind you. And you stood there dark, and all surrounded with its aureola"
 "Eugenia 1t will take the rest of our lives to thread these memories"
 Like beads on string. Summer mornings win ter evenings-if the wanderlust does seize you. An. there is Angela coming. Did you any thing sweeter?"
 Certainly haver'
 And Francis so tai and dark-the image of you at his age. Is 1t Already? Are they not like pictures of people n the Vale of Temper IL is you that will have made their days like life of the Islands of the Best See. they suggest all the for tunate parallels. Dear me, how the morning goesp looking the dial and her glance lingering on its legend. Time not back" She began to fold her work T think luncheon may be wait ing. Shall go in? I cannot give you peppers and gngers and hot Indian There is only bread and butter and and strawberries" T growing used to cool things" he said Come, children Come down to earthp And while with the aid of his stick he got upon his feet she detached the spray of yellow roses. shook t lightly and sent the petals of its great full blown flower scattering the wind "That rose, any rate" she said to herself "is not inmog!aP'