Year: 1870

of our log cabin and its frugal fare, and
hewed timber by Dawes side day after
day. Either that, or because had soothed
Miss Cameron's last moments upon earth.
For you see that it turned out that Miss
Cameron was Hugh's sweetheart; the
woman who had left all to come and join
her fortune with his in a strange land; /;
the woman who he had expected to meet
on the Clyde.


1t was long, long time after the facts
became known to us before Hugh ever
made second reference to his old love j;
in fact, not until the silver began to CLEAN
amid bis dark hair, and the deep lines to
furrow his face; not until Dave, far ad-
vanced in bachelorhood, deemed it neces-
sary to take unto himself wife, not until
to marry me seemed the only thing left
for Hugh to do. And even at that late
day could not but notice with jealous
pang, that the reference to the old love
and the old times lacerated him to the
quick.


However, married him, and every
pleasantly and happily we lived together
in our Western home; Hugh doing his
best to improve our new, small frame
house, and to cultivate the bit of clearing
than surrounded us, aside from his daily
labor, and doing my best in the way of
baking and brewing, that back woods
cheer might atone for all deficiencies in
the way of other comforts, 1t was very
out-of-the-way place in which we lived,
and seldom was the monotomy of our
live broken by the welcome footsteps of
guests; consequently Hugh and 1 were
considerably startled by rapid knocking
at our door, late one cold, rainy night, as
we sat costly before our cracking hickory
fire, he reading and sewing.


However, Hugh lost no time in closing
his book and hasting to answer this sum
mons but no sooner did he open the door
than he staggered back like a drunken man,
his face deadly pale and before l had time
to reach him, small, fragile woman with
hair like snow, entered, and without any
hesitation advanced toward Hugh, and
tlinging her arms about him, sobbcd out
in the most pitious tone: go, Hugh
Hugh why did you leave me? Why did
you torsake me? Why did you not come
to the ship to me, as you promised?
Why, whyf" And then, completely over
come with fatigue and excitement, the
poor thing fell senseless upon the floor.


Hugh, looked more like statue than a
living man, gazed down for moment
upon the limp mass ut his feet, and then,
regalning his habitual composurc, called
me to his assistance, and in "a few minutes,
ph a+fnr "A
in restoring her to consciousness, and then
divesting her of her saturated garments,
laid her upon her bed, where she tossed
and tumbled the whole night through,
muttering incohcrently to herself, some
thing about 'rain, rain"


Towards morning she fell into quiet,
peaceful slumber, from which she awoke
with her nerves quieted and her reason re-
stored. But it was only the calm that
usually precedes death. Towards the close
of the day, just as the little birds were
folding their tired wings preparatory for
nights rest, she, her night being gone,
and her morning come, began to unfold her
wings that she might fly away to those
sunny lands where we are told there is no
night; and before Hugh, who, at first
signs of the death damp had ridden post
haste for assistance, had time to return,
she had flown; not, however, before she
had told her strange, pathetic story
Strange to us then quite clear to us now;
Hugh having through strenuous exertion,
discovered the name of the young girl who
died on the Clyde to be Mary Cameron,
while his sweetheart's name was Jessie.


Having expected none but his own love
in the Clyde, in the anguish he had felt
at news of her death he had never thought
to inquire into particulars, It seemed
that ON her way down from her mountain
home she had been delayed for two days
and nights by one of those sudden noun
tain rain storms that often-times make the
rocky defles impossible for days and
weeks. Too late for the Clyde, she had
embarked ON the next sailing vessel, and
so landed in strange land with the face
she had expected to look upon of all others,
many hundred miles distant-the dear
face she had SO eagerly looked forward to
meeting.


Pride forbade her return; while an all
powerful love, together with slight in
sanity induced by the shock, had urged
her to pass her days and years in tracing
the whereabouts of the false face, that she
might look upon it if only for once. And
truly she laid down her life for that one
last look, although her last hours were
made much happier by knowing that Hugh
had not been false.


Hugh never passes by the grave at the
foot of the great oak, but with uncovered
head and sorrowful face.