Year: 1878

in the matter, only he felt strange
longing which was quite consistent with
such nature as his to experiment in
something which had a suggestion of the
He had no fear of death,
indeed he had a sort of morbid longing
for it; 30 if he saw his coffin, he felt thu
it would not uDnerve him. The thought
kept him hopeful, and he sat in low
chair before the fire glancing occasional
lv at the clock until the hands pointed
to five minutes before twelve. His room
opened on the sitting room He took
small looking glass that ht IN the wall
and a lamp, and passed thfe h the sit
ting room to the kitchen. The house
was still as death. All the inmates ex-
cept himself were sleeping in the cham
bers. 6 He heard the clock strike the
mystical midnight hour, as he opened
the cellar door, which creaked noisily.
He descended the steps slowly, for walk
ing backwards down stairs is a slightly
difficult performance. He trembled so
violently by this time with excitement
that he could scarcely hold the light. AS
his feet touched the bottom, the cellar
became illuminated with a weird light
distinct from that shed by his lamp, and
he seemed for q moment to lose his own
identity, as in the glass, from which he
never took his charmed gaze, he beheld
looking over his shoulder the fair face
framed in golden curls of his cousin
Irene 1t is doubtful if his coffin would
have startled him half so much as this
unexpected apparitiop. He was paraly-
zed for a moment. Then the vision
giided away as noiselessly as it came;
and, without stopping to investigate, he
reascended the stairs as hastily as his
trembling limbs would allow, and the
cellar door closed with a bang. The
sound acting on his overwrought nerves
caused him to drop the looking glass,
and it fell on the kitchen floor with a
loud crash and was shivered to atoms.
He hurried into his room, undressed and
crept into bed. He lay long time in
a dazed, bewildered state, for thoughts
of lady love had never before entered
his head, and when at last he slept his
dreams were of his fair-faced cousin who
had showed herself to him in such
weird, mystical manner.


Next morning when Mary entered the
kitchen she was startled by the sight of
the shattered looking-glass on the floor.
With considerable superstition about
such mishaps, she gathered up the
fragments in an awed sort of way, and
saw that it was the one that had hung
in Paul's room !! She considered it as a
mysterious omen of i'll to him, but
checked herself from asking him about
it, as she feared the effect on his nerves.
She confided the matter to the girls as
,NOooilN1n ~, m oxryo1 x1l,for.nr.


"I guess it's easily enough explain
ed, ;" said Grace, in light tone. "Let's
ask Paul about it. L shouldn't wonder
if he did it himself"


go, no; you mustn't mention it,
said the excited woman. elf he did,
it's all the worse for him but wouldn't
have him questioned on the matter-it
would only excite him. Poor dear he
won't be long after his mother"


Irene regarded the circumstance as
singular, but said little, and Grace kept
her secret for the time-resolved to see
the end before she revealed it.


But whether or not broken looking
glass is ever an omen Of i'll, it was not so
in this case. The sudden shock to his
nerves reacted with beneficial effect
upon his whole system. From that
night his health improved rapidly. He
ceased to brood morbidly over the
memory of his mother. His counte-
nance lost its absent, dreamylexpression,
and his actions betokened the workings
of hitherto latent energy. He never
mentioned the glass, for he would
rather have died than revealed what he
had seen to the girls, and he was too in
genuous to tell the story with any false
vanishing but he wondered secretly
why Mary had never spoken of it. He
commenced to manifest bashful re-
serve towards Irene, which she did not
know how to interpret. He had i'm
proved 80 much, Grace said, through
their influence, that they returned home
with a promise from him of a speedy
visit. When he clasped Irene's hand in
the goodbye, a strange thrill shot
through his frame, for he felt convinced
that some time in the future she was to
be his wife.





"Leave the farm in charge of John
and Mary and go West with me.


PauI's eyes kindled with a new ami
nation.


"I'm sure, uncle, I'm willing to do
anything you think best l feel as if
had only Just begun to live."


"Well, you'll bave enough to do out
there to make man of you. Three or
four years of brisk, active life will
change you so your friends won't know
you. Your mother was my only and dear
sister here his voice faltered a little.
"Perhaps she petted you more than was
good for you; but she meant all right.
/ said when 1 started for New Hamp-
shire: If Rachels boy needs helping
hand, I'll give it to him.


SO the farm was left in care of the
faithful man and woman who had been
with Mrs. Wentworth ever since her hus-
bands death, and Paul accompanied his
uncle to his western home, where he vas
doing a thriving business. The change
of scene and active employment acted
Ike m aIiviK Az fba and of fou,. xyaara