Year: 1878

was already halfway down his western
slope, moving lazily, rs if weary with
the long march of the summer solstice.
A gauzy haze yelled without obscuring
his brightness, and lent dreamy charm
to the scene below. Soft rolling hills
a stream winding between green willowy
shores; seen far away, broad blue riv.
| er, and the spires and roofs of a town;
these were the outlines of the landscape.
In the cool piazza of the old white farm.
house, her home for haH a century, stood
my grandmother, smile on her placid
face, and her mild eyes drinking in the
serene beauty of the scene. AliceEand |
came flying down the hall staircase and
stood beside her.


"Good-by, grandmamma," cried my
sister. "We are going to leave You for
little while"


"Must you go to-day, my dears The
horses are away, and it is long walk
to s.. Why not wait till to-mor-
row? ?"


"You forget" 1 said, ''that Frank
comes tomorrow; and we shall be SO
busy with packing, and all the last
things. And it is only two miles to
town, after all.


81 suppose you must go, dear; but it
is long walk for Alice in this hot sun,
grandmamma added, glancing from my
gray walking dress to my sisters cloudy
muslin and slippers.


ooh, l am not going, grandma; I
shall only walk with Charlotte down to
the thorn-trees to take that sketch
have promised you so long. We shall
both be back early to spend long eve-
ming with you. This is my birthnight,
you know-just think l am nineteen
and want you to make a festival of
it,"


"Be sure we will. And good-by, now,
my children, for you have no time to
spare.


Alice and l walked slowly down the
green path which wound it's way across
the fields to the brook. Following this
for some distance, we came to rude
wooden bridge by which we gained the
other shore; and soon sharp bend in
the stream brought us to the thorn-trees
of which Alice had spoken. A miniature
promontory, covered with the softest
and most velvety turf, was washed on
two sides by the waters of the brook,
while the third was guarded by semi.
circular line of gnarled and twisted
thorn-trees. A belt of similar trees
upon the opposite shore rendered the
seclusion of the place perfect. 1t was q
spot which Titania might have chosen
for her court, so still, so secret, and SO
green. Through a partial opening in
the trees was visible lovely bit of
scenery, O sketch of which Alice, who
draws with rare skill and fidelity, pro-
posed to take in my absence. Seated
here on the warm grass, the stream mur-
muring at her feet and the leaves futter-
ing over her, I left her to her pleasant
task: and regaining in few moments
more the frequented path, took my way
by the long yellow high-road to the dis
tant town.


Alice and I had been spending some
months with our grandmother, and were
to leave in a few days for our home in
Philadelphia. Our own mother was
dead; and the warm-hearted, though
rather gay and fashionable step-mother
who had taken her place, did not come
80 near to our hearts as did the gentle
old lady at the farm. A part of every
year we spent with the latter, always
leaving her with regret. I should men,
ton that my step-mother had a son, the
fruit of former marriage, who had
been absent several years in India, and
at this time had just returned. AS we
had no brother of our own, Frank Bald
win, who was few years older than I,
had filled nearly brothers place to
Alice and myself. He was now to be
our escort home, as our father was pre-
vented by some business from coming
for us himself.


This afternoon I had to make some
trifing purchases at the shops, and pay
few parting visits of friendship or
ceremony. We had many pleasant friends
in s., and the farewell calls consum-
ed 80 much time that nine o'clock was
ringing from all the steeples before I
was able to leave the town and turn my
steps toward home. But the way, though
lonely, was safe; and I enjoyed the quiet
walk in the evening air. 1t must have
been nearly ten o'clock when I reached
the gate which communicated with the
foot path across the fields. OF course I
had no idea of meeting Alice at that
hour; for though she had promised to
wait for me, it was in the expectation
that my return would be much earlier.
Yet when / came to the turn of the path
leading to the thorn-treets my steps half
involuntary took that direction.


Walking on slowly, 1 had reached the
brook, and was rounding the point
where, hours before, had left my sis
ter, when I was startled by perceiving
what seemed in the uncertain starlight
to be her figure reclining on the grass
under the thorn-trees. Involuntarily I
paused, half in doubt, half in fear. At
that instant there came from far away in
the south the first low breath of the
night wind signing across the fields and
stirring the stiff leaves of the old thorns
with sound as of innumerable airy
footsteps. With sudden thrill, as if I
had been conscious of some invisible
presence, I called her name, but in q
low, frightened voice. There was no
answer; and springing forward, knelt
beside the figure of my sister, lying fast
asleep upon the grass. Her flushed
cheek rested on her round white arm,
and smile like that of dreaming infan-
cy parted her beautiful lips. Lifting
her long hair, on which the night dew
glistened, I took her hand, exclaiming:
"Alice ! Alice Vane what are you
thinking of, asleep in this damp night
air?"


Slowly she opened her large eyes and
gazed around with bewildered express
sion.


Dear Alice, do rouse YOURSELF" I
cried, "It is past ten o'clock, and
grandma will be crazy"


She obeyed the movement Of my hand,
sat up, and allowed me to wrap my
shawl about her. gathered up her