Year: 1876

Nestled among the hills of New Eug.
land, exposed to the bitterly bleak winds
that swept down upon it in the winter. but
presenting most attractive aspect to the
summer sojourner, the little village of
Wakefield was becoming quite favorite
summer retreat Tor those fortunate persons
who are able to exchange the fervid and
disagreeable heat of the city, for the cool
mountain air and delicious quiet that made
this little out-of-the- place so inviting.
The villagers looked for the advent Of
their city boarders with great interest.
for their rocky and sterile acres hardly
yielded enough, even with the most unre-
hitting toll to. support their families in
comfort, and the sums which the transient
visitors from the city paid for the accom-
mediation of few weeks, enabled them to
must otherwise be debarred.


Somewhat apart from the principal
street, and reached by broad avenue,
shaded by the interlacing branches of elms
that had braved the storms of more than
century, stood the residence of Squire
Holyoke. The quaint old mansion had
been the home of the Holyoke family for
many generations, and indicated the
whlms and fancies of its various possessors,
by numerous wings and additions, giving
it sort of rambling and desultory APP
pearance. 1t had been known, time out
of mind, as the "Squire's" house, and was
gazed at with awe and respect by the
younger portion of the little community,
while their elders always quoted the Squire
as authority on any mooted point with an
air that told plainly of their implicit faith
in his learning and wisdom.


Both old and young joined in sounding
the praises of the Squire's wife, who was
one of those CHEEKY, good-natured souls,
always hopeful, always ready by word
and deed to contribute all in her power to
the happiness of others. and finding in her
quiet country life, ample opportunity for
the exercise of her amiable traits of char
acter.


This worthy couple were proud in the
possession of two daughters, both bright
and attractive girls, but so unlike in ap-
pearance and in temperament, that q
stranger would hardly suppose that any.
relationship existed between them. Ethel
Holyoke had been bright, apt scholar at
the neighboring academy, and had gradu-
ated with the highest honors that such an


institution can bestow. Her clear, gray
eyes, and small, but firm-set mouth. told
of perseverance, courage and decision
her abundant, dark-brown hair, was close
ly knotted and gracefully wound in thick
braids round her shapely head; and her
rather slight form was enveloped in q soft
dress of some neutral tint, relieved only
by bright bow at the throat. Having all
the delicate, womanly traits of character,
she yet impressed you as one who had the
disposition and ability to cope with any
difficulties that might beset her path.


Isabel, two years her junior, was of an
entirely different type. Naturally of a
rather indolent disposition, she had never
been much attracted to study, and her at
tainments were mainly of superficial
character. Her appearance was always
in striking contrast to that of her sister.
Her hair, which was her pride and glory,
was OF that golden hue, just suggesting
auburn, that painters delight to portray,
and stubbornly resisting all attempts to
confine it, broke from its fastenings and
curled here and there about her face and
neck in a manner which, it must be con.
fessed, was quite picturesque and pleasing.
Her complexion was of the delicate tint
always the accompaniment of that shade
OF hair and her blue eyes were large and
languishing Her form was cast in more
liberal mould than her sisters and she
was always attired in such manner as TO
set off to the best advantage. She was
certainly the more beautiful woman, but
seemed one better fitted to bask in the
sunshine of life than to brave any of its
trials and perplexites.


The girls on bright summer afternoon
were seated in front of the house, on the
broad, low studded piazza, discussing
their plans for the future.


"Isabel," said Ethel, moving her chair
to avoid the level rays of the afternoon
sun against which the piazza afforded but
scanty protection. II have been thinking
a great deal lately of what must happen
to us all ii any misfortune should befall
father. This house and farm are his only
during life. and what he has earned by the
practice of his profession has been no
more than enough to pay the family ex-
penses, and provide for our education. 1t
seems to me we should endeavor to place
ourselves in such position as to run no
risk of being dependent for our support
on the bounty of Others"


80, Ethel,' said Isabel, petulantly;
"you are always talking of such disagree
dDlc tuluSS. i diu sure 1 uOu kuOW, Ut
wish to know, anything about papa's mon-
ey matters. should die of modification
to have anyone think that we should ever
be obliged to support ourselves. What
would our friends say How could l ever
look the fashionable Mrs. Baker in the
face, if were to try and earn my own
living? What would her stylish son think
if he should hear OF such thing?n


"But, Isabel" said her sister; lit is
better that you do it now from choice than
by and by from necessity. No friend
whose friendship is worthy of the name
but will respect you more for the effort.
Even the stylish Herbert Baker, whose
opinion you seem to prize so highly, must
applaud your endeavor to make yourself
independent, and if he is man worth
knowing, will be all the more attracted to
YOU"


~ care nothing for Herbert Bakers
opinion" said Isabel, with however a
slightly heightened color; "but l don't
think it ladylike. The place for young
lady is at home, and she is not expected
- do ,,,oro than ho~,>le