Year: 1874

Paul Winship and Mary Archer
sat in the small, comfortable sitting
room of an humble cottage not far
from the great city. 1t was late in
the evening of a spring day, and
they had not been long in from 4
stroll in the by-ways by the glimmel
of a quartering moon. Paul had
seen only a week of life since leap
ING the bound of self-owned man
hood-that is, he was just week be-
vond one and twenty. And they
were both of that mould and that
temperament which Nature bestows
upon those who are to be made there
by capable of great enjoyment
Their sympathies were quick and ac-
tive; their appetites natural and
healthful; their affections true and
strong; their aspirations worthy and
honorable; and their hearts warm
and generous, and steadfast as the
mountain behind which the moon was
dipping.


And these two had been school
mates and companions for years
They had loved each other while yel
children, and their love had gone OF
Paurs father and mother had botf
died while he was yet an apprentice
and he had been left with only thu
love of Mary Archer to give brlgh
sunshine to his life. And Mary hat
lost her father, and now labored will
a hearty and healthful cheerfulnes
to assist her mother in gaininga live
lihood. And she labOred the harde
because a poor crippled brother de
pended upon her for a support. ii
was not able to help himself.


Paul Winship had resolved that h
would 90 to sea. An uncle was car
tain of a large ship bound for tn
East Indies, and had offered him
good position, with promise of pre-
motion. He thought he could do be-
ter SO than to delve at a trade Whlc
could never yield more than bar
support. He and Mary had talke
the matter over, and she had at lengt
become reconciled to the step, b.
lieving it might be for his good.


And on the morrow the ship was
sail. and this was to be their last evel
inc together for a long, long tim
They knew now how strong an
yearning their love was, and how d
pendent they were, and must be, upe
each other for joy and blessednes
and they tried to look across Il
chasm of separation to the full fru
. ton beyond. >,


Mary had worked into a fanclf
braid a slender tress of her gloss
dark brown hair, and while th'
talked she fixed it into small gol
, en- locket, and shut down upon it
glass cover.


"There, Paul." she said, when t
work was done, "there is the lock
hair as you wished. 1t is pc
> thing. but you will think of me VIII
YOU look upon it.


Paul took the locket and p ressed
to his lips


81 shall look upon it often, darlir
and think, while l look, of the de;
!, est treasure for me this earth C
, hold"


90, Paulr'


Darling, don't weep. But fl
: short months and we will be happi
: than ever. l know 1 shall prosp
We shall suffer this separation as t
seeds is hidden in the ground. 1t
to be the germ of better things
! come"


; 81 shall try and think so, Paul
will think so.'


Paul found a piece of blue ribb


in Mary's work basket, with which


suspended the locket about his nee


and when he had placed it once me
: to his lips, with a murmured.blessiI


he hid it away in his bosom.


And by and by they stood at t


door, locked in the parting embra


K


Until long past midnight, Mary
:, by the window and gazed out up
es the stars. She knew that Paul "


on his way, on foot, to the city, a


that it would take him two hours


walk the distance. So she sat the
until she thought he had reached


ship, and then she went up to


chamber and sought her pillow,


not to sleep. Her heart was


heavy and sad.


But Mary Archer was young, a
h. healthful, and strong, and ere 10
te she brought reason to the aid


hope, and was content to look a


pray for the good to come.


At the end of three months a
r, ter came to her from the sea, broue