Year: 1876

An old man lay in the little chamber of the best room of Abram Linmar' un- pretentious farmhouse, listening half unconscious to the sound of voices, now in stern demand, again in humble plead ing and protestation. His long gray hair and beard swept the snowy linen Of the pillows, against which his bronzed, sunken face seemed darker and more hollow; his bony fingers beat the cover lid in anger and sympathy, as his ear fol- lowed the words of the speakers, and 8 glitter sparkled in his eyes, which had, for five weary weeks, been glazed and dulled with fever.

 "I wish they d come in," he muttered to himself "I want to know all about it; I was asleep at the first and can t guess how it begun, but it is evident the good people of this house are in deep trouble"

 He had hardly ceased when the door of the apartment opened and Dame Lin mar stepped in with the noiseless foot of the anxious nurse. Seeing that her patient was awake and was looking eagerly and inquiringly at her, she ap- preached the bedside and spoke to him in voice as sad and mournfulas sorrow can train woman's s tones to be.

 "Awake, sir2 Has the talking in the other room disturbed you ?"

 It has not broken my rest, but what have heard has disturbed my mind. What is it 2 only know that somebody gives you till next Monday morning to leave this comfortable home."

 "It is about a mortgage, sir. But here comes my poor, old husband; he will explain 1t better than can."

 At the word the door opened again and Abram Linmar entered with bowed head and firmly pressed lips.

 "Hes gone, Janet, and taken the very last grain of hope I nurtured. Not even the memory of the service I ren- dered him two-and-twenty years ago in saving his life when he was at the mercy of the highwaymen availed anything, and we shall have to leave the roof that has sheltered us so long, doubly dear to mo as the work of my own hands and the scene of genial associations"

 Farmer Linmar, excuse the imper- tinenoe of my curiosity," said the low of your trouble. May not know all ?"

 Alas, sir," replied the hopeless host, " the story is short as our future stay within these walls will be brief. Five years ago my son in New York, be- ing embarrassed, borrowed from my next neighbor, a very wealthy man, the sum of eight thousand dollars and gave him mortgage on this-my farm of one hundred acres. Instead of gaining re- lief, my son became more embarrassed, failed utterly, and, from the grief of his disappointment, died. have paid two thousand of the principal and now ten der third thousand, and beg that my creditor will not proceed to extremities. But plead to stone. He acknowledges that for years he has coveted my land, separating, as it does, two parcels of his own, and, indeed, he has made me many offers for it; now that he has the power to compel sale, he swears that he will force the matter and outbid any con- petitor, as he has the means at his com mand. He esays that he offers me in return all the money and interest I have paid to him in consideration of my quietly surrendering possession, and I suppose l must. There's no other way"

 :" And l have been charge on you in such dire extremity" said the sick man, 'eebly; " it would have been better for you to have left me to die by the road side, broken down and fever parched. where you found me. Many precious dollar you must have parted with in my long illness for physicians and their nos trums. am too weak to even thank you properly"

 "Say not so. The little you have had in money or attendance will never help to impoverish us. It was bread cast upon the waters and it will return. D The good farmer said this almost cheer fully, for he reflected how much better off at worst he and his dame and daugh- ter Marian were, than the homeless, ! friendless old man who lay in his care. "After many days; after many days, continued the sick man, finishing the promise. "But I am afraid, farmer, that neither you nor I will live till ii comes back"

 "Why, don't talk so, sir" broke in Dame Linmar, "it's been @ real comfort for us to do the little we could for you. We arc onlyipaying debt we owe. Oul boy died away from home among strang CTS, and they were good and kind to him when things were 50 bad that he would not let us know, fearing our great l distress the kindness he got from strangers we are glad to pay back in in stallments.

 "Would that could aid you, as have read of men apparently poor an6 helpless doing for those who have sue corcd or shown kindness to them, bu my poverty is no disguise. I am poor indeed; absolutely without dollar or