Year: 1861

Now the countless busy feet


Cross each other in the street,


And | watch the faces fitting past my door


But the step that fingered nightly.


And the hand that raped so lightly,


And the face that beamed so brightly,


Come no more"


The dwelling | called home was in a
lovely spot-woodbine and climbing Jas
mine shaded the windows and ran along
the edges of the roof; the beautiful pra-
irie-rose grew on either side of the door,
and its stems INTERVENING formed ar
arch that shell cred me from the MONDAY
sun, as | stood, just within, looking out
upon the green lawn which stretched to
a small steam on whose placid surface
the bright, arrowy sunbealus were play
ing across the stream was broad pra-
irie reaching to the bank Of the Missis-
sippi beyond which lay the green hills of
Iowa, and toward them | often cast
wistful glance, for they reminded me of
my earlier home far away among the
hills of northern New York, and around
which many cherished associations clus-
tered. 1t was in the beautiful leafy
month of June, and on that day as | loo
ked upon those distant hills; visions of
the quiet farm house, and the joyous
band that were wont to gather there on
bright SUMMER EVENINGS, fitted before
me, and as, in imagination, one after
another drew near, there stole into my
heart wish to look once more upon
each familiar face-to hear again the
tones of voices that were ever pleasant to
my ear when life was young, and care
and sorrow things of which had never
dreamed. remembered the bright days
of my childhood, later years when,
happy maiden, won the love Of as true
and noble heart as ever pulsated, and
though sometimes looked wisttully back
toward my far off, early home yet there
was no sigh of regret that | had chosen
another one, for in tha. new home | had
been serenely happy. So intently were
my thoughts wandering backward while
my eyes fingered upon those green hills
that | heard not approaching footsteps,
and knew not that my husband was at
my side until he said


Amy, what has occurred to make you
look so sorrowfully-this will never an
swer-upon my word there is tear :
and he brushed the tear away as he drew
me gently to his side.


L was thinking of my early home
and those with whom had spent so
many happy hours there


And are you less happy now" There
was intensity in his tone, and shadow
fitted across his features that was cha
sed away by smile. as | replied.


Il have been far happier here, in this
lovely home you have given me; than
there and if you could not be at my
side would not leave this, for the most
magnificent palace eye ever bcheld and
Heaven is my witness that 7 spoke truth


We sat down to dinner-my husband s
couutenance was more thoughtful than
usual, and for some minutes both were
silent; then he said.


Amy, l have been thinking that per-
haps you would like to 60 home for vi
sit; the journey would do both yourself
and Charlie good


4 shall be very glad to go if you can
manage to leave, as l can't think of 60
ing without you


L will 60 with you, even if my ab-
sence should occasion the loss of few
hundred dollars that would be nothing
compared to your happiness aud that oi
our child.


We formed our plans for the journey
we would 90 soon after harvest, even
the route was spoken of-how long we
would stop at this or that place, and az
we we're about rising from the table,
there was the gentle patter of little feet,
and Charlie having just awakened from
his MONDAY nap came to my side, sag.
ing, in lisping accents,


Mamma, Charlie wants dinna.'
placed Charlie at the table, and N,
husband remained until the child ha'
eaten, talking meantime pleasantly o
the days when he was a frequent visito
at the farmhouse that nestled anon
the far-off hills; and when he was goin
out after caressing Charlie, he said