The spectator., 1920-11-16
CHAPTER ".
In the Spell of the Miraoe.


 quarter of century is a short time as world history goes, but 1t is considerable era in the life of the Canadian west. More things-momen- tous things-than can be hinted at in this narrative occurred in the 9 years following the great thrush of 1882 The boundless prairie reaches of Manitoba were now comparatively well settled. and the tide of immigration, which. after a dozen years stagnation. had set in again in greater flood than ever, was now sweeping over the newer lands still farther west. The vast sweep of the horizon, once undefiled by any work of man. was pierced and broken with elevators, villages, and farm buildings, and the whifY of coal smoke was blown down the air which had so lately known only the breath of the prairies.
 Mary Harris hurried about her ca paci0us kitchen. deep in preparation of the evening meal. The years had taken toll of the freshness of her young beauty; the shoulders. in mute testimony to much hard labor of the hand, had dropped forward over the deepening chest; the hair was thin ner and farther back above the fore head, and streaked with gray at the temples; the mouth lacked the rosy sensuousness of youth, and sat now in a mold, half of resolution. half sub mission. Yet her foot had lost little of its sprightliness. and the sympathy in her fine eyes seemed to have deep ened with the years.
 A moist but appetizing steam rose from the vegetable pots on the range. and when she threw back the iron door to feed more coal the hot glow from within danced in reflection along the bright row of utensils hanging from the wall, and even sought out the brass plate on the cream separa- tor at the far end of the big room. Through the screen door came the mo- notonously redundant clio a clank of the windmill, and a keen ear might have caught the light splash of water as 1t fell in the wood- en horse troughs from the iron nozzle of the pump.
 Mary stuck . fork in . potato to as- certain If the "bone" was all gone, meanwhile shielding her face from the steam with the pot lid. held alOft in an aproned hand. Having satisfied herself that the meal was making sat- isfactory progress. she stepped to the door and sent a quick look across the deids. to where a streak of black smoke was scrawied along the sky.
 "Beulah," she called, turning to- ward the interior part of the house. Come. Beulah. set the table. They're coming from the field"
 In a moment a girl of twenty, plain iy attired In a neat calico dress. en- tered the kitchen. She was fresh and beautiful as her mother had been that first summer in the sod house on the bench, and something in her appear ance suggested that with her mothers beauty and fine sensibility sine had in- herited the indOmitable spirit which had made John Harris one of the most prosperous farmers in the district. She moved in an easy. unconscious grace of self-reliance-a reliance that must be just a little irritating to men of Old-fashioned notions concerning wom- ans dependence on the sterner sex drew the long wooden table, with its covering of white oil cloth, into the center of the kitchen. and began plac- ing the dishes in position.
 The scraping of heavy boots on the blow share nailed to the block at the door, and John Harris, followed by Allan and the hired man, Jim. walked into the kitchen. The farmers frame was heavier than in his younger days, and his hair, too, was streaked with gray, but every muscle in his great body seemed to bulge with strength, His face wAs brown with the prairie sun and wind f 25 summers, and lines of worry and care had cut their tracings about the mouth and eyes Beside him stood Allan. his only son straighter and lither of figure, but al most equally powerful. The younger man was, indeed. a replica of the old CT. and although they had their dis agreements, constant association had developed . fne comradeship, and. on