Year: 1876

The windows of pleasant, old-fashion-
ed house, which had evidently been closed
in obedience to the summer instinct for
vagabondizing. were all thrown "wide
open to the sun" of an Indian Summer day
in the beautiful autumn of 1S-,and a
young woman stood directly opposite one
whose originally .deep recess had been
curved into the modern bow. The pros
pect 1t opened upon was as rural as one
could hope to find in the respectable and
shaded street of a small inland city, as it
embraced lawn, greensward and shrubs.


But the maiden's eyes saw none of these
Tor the windows of her soul were not so
much used now for her own outlooking as
for The inpeeping OF the curious, like our
selves. Through their transparent depths
what might we not see, if she would but
rise them from the hurrying fixedness with
which she followed, line after line, down
hawthorne witching page?


She was not reclined upon couch or
easy-chair, which might almost hide her
slight and graceful form. as the magic veil
of romance had hidden her thoughts-she
was standing in a rather critical and not at
all comfortable position, with one foot on
the floor and one upon the lowest shelf of
a tall bookcase, and from her right hand
hung an ample, old-fashioned, red-silk
handkerchief, such as completes young
lady's wardrobe only when she is bent up.
on the never-ceasing warfare with the dust
of this dirty world In fact, it was only
O'Clock in the morning. and the girl was
in slippers, calico-dress, big apron and
dusting-cap, all neat and sweet as honey
comb, to be sure, but all merely the prop
critics, so to speak, of the drama she was
enacting-a farce without the fun for the
spiders only shake out their horrid long
legs and climb a little higher, and the dust
only whirls around and settles little more
timidly into the old familiar places.


But on this particular morning not even
the accustomed but half-forgotten tremor
Of perpetual moving-day had stirred the
quietly obtrusive little gray particulars,
and the flies, which had whipped in out of
the air as yet a shade too cool for their
constitutional passion for being frizzled up
by summer sun or winter lamp, were hav-
ing an uproarious buzz-meetng over the
of their favorte south window,
untroubled by the whipping out which
limp red rag not far away could do.


For the little creatures we'll knew the
habits of its wielder, and they had seen
that in lifting her pretty feet upon the
lower shelf, so that with skillful flirt of
her great dust cloth she could sweep
cobweb out of the sky, she had thrown the
emblem of cleanliness in such fashion that
a corner of its ample folds caught upon the
card-b board and e-ribboned surface of a
book-mark which told her heart of favor
ite passage in favorte book, and, while
her right hand lowered the battle-hag of
purity, her left hand drew down the vol
ume. and the world was clean and beauti-
ful at once, or, if it was not, it made no
difference. Soft, gray plumes, the broken
homes OF the cunning, keen-eyed workers
float or darken around her.


"She heeds not, she hears not,


She's free from all pain


Her cheek is pale and her eye brimming
with the delight which her intellect re-
ceives and her heart fancies. As she
thrills with the heroic, Hope whispers
that her own life may DE yet stronger and
more blisstu.


''Myra, what are you up to? | thought
you said you could finish dusting in five
and help me to set out the cro-
quet."


With little start the girls face was
lifted hastily toward the handsome youth
who. brushing aside vine that had out.
grown its trellis, was leaning in upon the



Her cheek mantled with something like
shame; but her brown eyes lost the
warmth which they had gathered in the
land of far romance.


"Why will you yeX me so forever ?"
continued Elmer's impatient voice.
'Dreamland again, and l. poor wretch
still dancing attendance on will-o'.the-
wisp. 1t isn't the first time a befogged
traveller has followed at breakneck speed
a shining something which he fondly trust
ed was the light of a cozy home'


Myra blushed again, and this time more
The metaphor was too for
chile to pass for nothing, even with her
and the manner of putting it was
very different from the old grumbling
fashion of talking, which she had pooh
poohed hundred times before. Besides,
the girls heart was as sensitive as touch
me-not, and it quiyered at the hint of a
unmaidenly which the hide
and-seek figure seemed to imply. At that
thought the pride which acquitted her of
so false charge came to her relief. as she
answered:


Elmer Halstead, it is a pretty thing
for you to be getting sentimental. We
have spent too many bright days playing
tag for you to become a belogged traveller
at the sight of me. Save that little rheto-
ric for some girl who hasn't run over so
many times to see it you couldn't come
out and play school,


She spoke gayly; but there was some
hidden uneasiness through it all, and some-
how she could not coax up the old amused
smile when Elmer cried out, half COM



Il suppose your imaginary hero must
come from the uttermost parts of the
earth, and take you captive with single
glance of his eagle eye. An old play.
mate for lover! How unromantic,
What would become of the cherished
dream of love at first sight if the common.
place love of years should be allowed
learingP"


81 suppose it would have about as much
effect as usual to tell you once more that
haven't any imaginary hero; that so far
IN my life 1t is women and not men who