Year: 1867

John O~eood let down the bars for the
tired oxen with which he had boon f,lo,v-
ing ali day to 20 through them, and seek
ou the cool hilisides their nights pastura re
They turned their heads and looked at him
with their great mourntul eyes. as if ex-
pectine word, for they were used to the
sound Of his voice, the slow, patient crca-
lures, and liked il, as such dumb brutes
always 10 the voice Of a kind master
But Tonight he had no word for them
TIE put Up the bars again when they had
gone through and leaued heavily against
them


\ May sunset was flushing earth and
ky The new springing grass looked
fresh and green. \ light, teathery leaf
age wasOn all the trees and a few OF them,
pear and cherry trees, had put out white
blossoms. The western sky was piled high
with crimson clouds, with close to the
horizon, bar Of fiery gold \ reflected
brightness flushed the east with soft.
roSeate hue which spread up to the zenith
All was still, a. the new birth OF new
world \ sense Of wonderful beauty and
mystery thrilled j Ohm Osgood's uneducated
perceptions. He had no words for such
scene, no clearly defined thoughts about it,
even; but it moistened his eyes, and quick
encd his pulses, and seemed to food his
life with rush Of dreams and longinrs.


How beautiful this world was There
were some men, he had heard, who painted
such scenes as these-others who wrote
poetry about them-others who set them
to music. ike the songs of birds. or the
soft swa-h Of waves. What was his part
of all this ? Flowing to-day,-planting
Tomorrow Was that all life held for
him? There must be some other use, some
other meaning, if he could only grasp it.
If he had no part or lot in all this beauty
why did it move him So ?


Just then he heard the sound of horses
feet, and looked in the direction whence it
came. AngeIine Wilmarth was sweeping
down the hill, with a gay gallant beside
her How like d part Of the sunset beauty
She looked with its rose upon her cheek,
its radiance in her eyes and hair. Her
long blue habit falling low, and swinging
TO the motion of her cream colored horse,
her white feather streaming back on the
wind, her little hands with the dainty
gauntletS on them-so much youth, and
grace and beauty And the :. city chap"
rs John Osgood called him, by her side
did not mar the picture. \ handsome,
cavalierish looking man, there was no deny
ING that he showed well beside Angie; but
what was he here so much for? They
swept by, Angles low. silvcry laugh tink-
ling a response to something her companion
was saying; and a little cloud Of dust
which the hoofs Of the horses beat up behind
them filled Johns eyes, and choked his
throat, and added bitterness to his mood.


He glanced down TO his hard, horny
hands, his coarse, toiI-stained clothes.
How well he would look at Angeline Will
martins side , And yet he had loved her
III "A vague sort Of way, whose meaning he
had just begun to find out, ever since he
could remember Life would not have
much SAVIOR, he thought, without her And
vet, She would be no fit farmers wife, and
that was Just what he was-a farmer.
Then the question came again which had
haunted him before-could he be nothing
else? Did fate doom him, did God ask
him always to 20 in and out on these old
ways-to plow and plant, and make hay
and reap grain, all summer, and go back
and forth between the homestead and tho
woodlot all winter ? If his father and
mother teers getting old, if he aoas all they
had-did that settle the matter? Some
one could be hired to do as well for them
and he-he believed he had enough in hin
to 90 away and make a career which An
geline WilInarth would not scorn to share


The crimson had died out of the west