Year: 1873

The Major sat looking into the fire

 for though it was August, we had brigh

 wood fires in the evenings, as we ofte1

 do at the Profile House. He looked

 very steadily at the coals on the hearth shivered once as if he were cold, boltet two glasses of claret in quick succession and l waited, confident that I should hear his story at last. Soon he began to talk.

 "Draw your chair close up. Ligh another pipe, and fill your glass. It i. cold night. My old bones shuddel when I hear the wind vail over the house and through the trees. Capita claret, that John, come in here. Ope1 another bottle of claret, John. What not another! Certainly, man, I mus have it. This is only the second, anG MT. - has drank half, of course Not drank any You don't mean to say that he has been drinking nothing al the blessed evening? Effendi, I thought you knew my rules better than that But you always would have your owl

 "One more bottle, John-but one. It shall be the last; and, John, get some Maraschino-one of the thick, black bottles with the small necks, and open it. But you know how, old fellow, and just do your best to make us com fortable.

 "How the wind howls My boy, am seventy-three years old, and seven days over. My birthday was week ago to-day.

 "An old bachelor Yea, verify. One of the oldest kind. But what is age What is the paltry sum of seventy years Do you think am any older in my soul than I was half century ago? Do you think because my blood flows slower, that my mind thinks more slowly, my feelings spring up less freely, my hopes are less buoyant, less cheerful, if they look forward only weeks instead of years? {? I tell you, boy, that seventy years are day in the sweep of memory and sonce young forever young is the motto of an i'm mortal soul. I know I am what men call old l know my cheeks are wrinkled like parchment, and my lips are thin, and my head gray even to silver. But in my soul I feel that I am young, an l I shall be young till the earthly ceases and the unearthly and eternal begins.

 "I have not grown one day older than was at thirty have never advanced day since then. All my life long since that has been one dayvone short day no night, no rest, no success sion of hours, events, or thoughts has marked any advance.

 "I have been living forty years by the light of one memory-by the side of one grave.

 "John, set the bottle down on the hearth. You may go. You need not sit up for me. We will see each other to bed tonight. Go, old fellow, and sleep sound1y.

 "She was the purest angel that flesh ever imprisoned, the most beautiful child of Eve. can see her now. Her eyes raying the light of heaven-her brow white, calm, and holy-her lips wreathed with the blessing of her smile. She was as graceful as form seen in dreams, and she moved through the scenes around her as you have seen the angelic visitors of your slumber move through crowded assemblies, without effort, apparently with some superhuman aid.

 "She was fitted to adorn the splendid house in which she was born and grew to womanhood. It was 8 grand old place, built in the midst of growth of oaks that might have been there when Columbus discovered America, and seemed likely to stand century longer. They are standing yet, and the wind tonight makes a wild lament through their branches.

 "I recall the scenery of the familiar spot. There was stream of water that dashed down the rocks hundred yards from the house, and which kept t'always full and fresh an acre of pond, over which hung willows and naples and other trees, while on the surface the white blossom of the lotus nodded lazily on the ripples with Egyptian sleepiness and languor.

 "The old house was built of dark stone, and had massive appearance, not relieved by the sombre shade in which it stood. The sunshine seldom penetrated to the groundin in the summer months, except in one spot, just in front of the library windows, where 1t used to lie and sleep in the grass. as if itloved the old place. And if sunshine loved 1t, why should not I?

 "General Lewis was one of the pleas ant, old-fashioned men, now quite gone out of memory, as well as of existence. Beloved his horses, his dogs, his house, his punch. He loved his nephew Tom, uncouth, rough cub that he was but above horses, dogs, house, or all togeth- CT, he loved his daughter Sarah, and I loved her too.

 fYes, you may look at me as you will, l loved Sarah Lewis and, by all the gods, I love her now as I loved her then and as I shall love her if I meet her again.

 "Call it folly, call it boyish, call it an old mans whim, an old mans sec- ond childhood, I care not by what name you call it it is enough that tonight the image of that young girl stands be- fore me splend1dly beautiful in the holiness of her young life, and I could bow down on my knees and worship her now again.

 "Why did say again |? For forty years have not ceased to worship her. If kneel to pray in the morning, she passes between me and God. If I would read the prayers at evening twi- light, she looks up at me from the page. If would worship on Sabbath morn ing in the church, she looks down on me from some unfathomabIe distance, some unapproachable height, and I pray to her as if she were my hope, my heaven.

 Sometimes in the winter nights I feel coldness stealing over me, and icy fingers are feeling about my heart, as if to grasp and still it. lie calmly, quietly, and I think my hour is at hand; and through the gloom, and through the mists and films that gather over my vision. see her afar off, still the same angel in the distant heaven, and reach out my arms to her, and I