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heart throb passionately against his own; Gaunt did not speak, - fumbled among he took from her burning lips the first the chips at the fire. He raised himself pure, womanly kiss : she was all his. at last. But when she turned her head, there “I'm trying to do what is right,” he was a quick upward glance of her eyes, said, in a subdued voice. “I have n't had he knew not whether of appeal or thanks. a pleasant life, — but it will come right There was a Something in the world more at last, maybe.” near and real to her than he; he loved “ It will come right, David !” said the her the better for it: yet until he found girl. that Unknown God, they were not one. His face lighted : her cheery voice

It was an uncertain step broke the sounded like a welcome ringing through silence, cracking the crusted snow. his future years. It was a good omen,

" Why, Gaunt!” said Palmer, “what coming from her whom he bad wrongare you doing in the cold? Come to the ed. fire, boy!”

Are you going now, Gaunt ?” asked He could afford to speak cordially, Palmer, seeing him button his thin coat. heartily, out of the great warmth in his “ Take my blanket, — nay, you shall. own breast. Theodora was heaping shav- As soon as I am strong enough, I 'll ings on the ashes. Gaunt took them from find you at Springfield.” her.

He wished be could hearten the poor “Let me do it,” he muttered. “I'd unnerved soul, somehow. like to make your whole life warm, Dode, Gaunt stopped outside, looking at them, - your life, and — any one's you love." — some uncertain thought coming and

Dode's face flushed with a happy smile. going in his face. Even David never would think of her as “I'll speak it out, whatever you may alone again. Poor David! She never think. Dode, I 've done you a deadly before had thought how guileless he was, hurt. Don't ask me what it is, - God - bow pitiful and solitary his life. knows. I'd like, before I go, to show

" Come home with us,” she said, eager- you I love you in a pure, honorable way, ly, bolding out her hand.

you and your husband He drew back, wiping the sweat from The words choked in his throat ; he bis face.

stopped abruptly. “ You cannot see what is on my hand. “ Whatever you do, it will be honorI can't touch you, Dode. Never again. able, David,” said Palmer, gently. Let me alone.”

“I think - God might take it as ex“She is right, Gaunt,” said Palmer. piation," — holding his band to his head. “You stay here at the risk of your life. He did not speak again for a little Come to the house. Theodora can hide while, then he said, – us; and if they discover us, we can pro- “I will never see these old Virginian tect her together.”

hills again. I am going West; they will Gaunt smiled faintly.

let me nurse in one of the hospitals ;" I must make my way to Springfield that will be better than this that is on to-morrow. My work is there, - my new work, Palmer.”

Whatever intolerable pain lay in these Palmer looked troubled.

words, he smothered it down, kept his “I wish you had not taken it up. This

voice steady. war may be needed to conquer a way * Do you understand, Douglas Palmer? for the day of peace and good-will among I will never see you again. Nor Dode. men; but you, who profess to be a seer You love this woman; so did I, - as well and actor in that day, have only one as you. Let me make her your wife bework : to make it real to us now on earth, fore I go,-here, under this sky, with God as your Master did, in the old time.” looking down on us. Will you ? I shall

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be happier to know that I have done and throbbed it out again for the blue it."

heaven to see in a whole summer's wealth He waited while Douglas spoke eager- of trees quivering with the luxury of ly to the girl, and then said,

being, in wreathed mosses, and bedded “ Theodora, for God's sake don't re- fern: the very blood that fell on them fuse! I have hurt you, – the marks of speaks in fair, grateful flowers to Him it you and I will carry to the grave. Let who doeth all things well. Some healthy me think you forgive me before I go. hearts, like the bills, you know, accept Grant me this one request.”

pain, and utter it again in fresher-bloodDid she guess the hurt he had done ed peace and life and love. The evenher? Through all her fright and blush- ing sunshine lingers on Dode's little house es, the woman in her spoke out nobly. to-day; the brown walls have the same

“ I do not wish to know how you have cheery whim in life as the soul of their wronged me. Whatever it be, it was in- mistress, and catch the last ray of light, nocently done.

God will forgive you, will not let it go. Bone, smoking his and I do. There shall be peace between pipe at the garden-gate, looks at the us, David.”

house with drowsy complacency. He But she did not offer to touch his hand calls it all “ Mist Dode's snuggery," now: again : stood there, white and trembling. he does not know that the rich, full-toned “It shall be as you say,” said Palm- vigor of her happiness is the germ of all

this life and beauty. But he does know So they were married, Douglas and that the sun never seemed so warm, the Dode, in the wide winter night. A few air so pure, as this summer, – that about short words, that struck the very depths the quiet farm and homestead there is a of their being, to make them one : simple genial atmosphere of peace : the woundwords, wrung out of the man's thin lipsed soldiers who come there often to be with what suffering only he knew. cured grow strong and calm in it; the

“ Those whom God hath joined togeth- war seems far-off to them; they have er let no man put asunder.” Thus he come somehow a step nearer the inner shut himself out from her forever. But heaven. Bone rejoices in showing off the prayer for a blessing on them came the wonders of the place to them, in from as pure a heart as any child's that matching Coly's shiny sides against the lives. He bade them good-bye, cheer- “ Government beastesses,” in talking of fully, when he had finished, and turned the giant red beets, or crumpled green away, but came back presently, and said cauliflower, breaking the rich gardengood-night again, looking in their faces mould. “Yer've no sich cherries nor tasteadily, then took his solitary way across ters nor raspberries as dem in de Norf, the hills. They never saw him again. I'll bet!” Even the crimson trumpet

Bone, who had secured two horses by flower on the wall is “a Virginny creeplove or money or — confiscation, had stood er, Sah!” But Bone learns something mutely in the background, gulping down from them in exchange. He does not his opinion of this extraordinary scene. boast so often now of being “ole Mars' He did not offer it now, only suggest- Joe's man,” — sits and thinks profoundly, ed it was “high time to be movin'," and till he

goes to sleep. “Not of leavin' yer, when he was left alone, trudging through Mist Dode. I know what free darkies the snow, contented himself with smooth- is, up dar; but dar 's somefin' in a feling his felt hat, and a breathless, “ Ef dis lah’s ’longin' ter hisself, af’er all!” Dode nigger on'y knew what Mist Perrine only smiles at his deep cogitations, as he would say!”

weeds the garden- beds, or fodders the

stock. She is a balf- Abolitionist herself, A June day. These old Virginia hills and then she knows her State will soon have sucked in the winter's ice and snow, be free.



So Dode, with deeper-lit eyes, and out, grows cool in its tranquil calm. So fresher rose in her cheek, stands in the the sun used to set in old Virginia, he door this summer evening waiting for her thinks. A tall, slab-sided man, in the husband. She cannot see him often; he dress of a hospital-nurse: a worn face, has yet the work to do which he calls just but quick, sensitive; the patients like it and holy. But he is coming now. It is better than any other: it looks if the very quiet; she can hear her own heart man had buried great pain in his life, beat slow and full; the warm air holds and come now into its Indian-summer moveless the delicate scent of the clover; days. The eyes are childish, eager, ready the bees hum her a drowsy good-night, as to laugh as cry, — the voice warm, chordthey pass; the locusts in the lindens have ant, - the touch of the hand unutterably just begun to sing themselves to sleep; tender. but the glowless crimson in the West A busy life, not one moment idle; but holds her thought the longest. She loves the man grows strong in it, – a healthy understands color: it speaks to her of the servant, doing a healthy work. The paDay waiting just behind this. Her eyes tients are glad when he comes to their fill with tears, she knows not why: her ward in turn. How the windows open, life seems rounded, complete, wrapt in and the fresh air comes in ! how the lazy a great peace; the grave at Manassas, nurses find a masterful will over them! and that planted with moss on the hill how full of innermost life he is ! how real yonder, are in it: they only make her his God seems to him! joy in living more tender and holy. He looks from the window now, his

He has come now; stops to look at thought having time to close upon himhis wife's face, as though its fairness and self. He holds up his busy, solitary life meaning were new to him always. There to God, with a happy smile. He goes is no look in her eyes he loves so well to back to that bitter past, shrinking ; but see as that which tells her Master is near he knows its meaning now. As the warm her. Sometimes she thinks he too evening wanes into coolness and gray, But she knows that “according to her the one unspoken pain of his life comes faith it shall be unto her.” They are back, and whitens his cheerful face. There alone to-night; even Bone is asleep. But is blood on his hands. He sees the old in the midst of a crowd, they who love man's gray hairs blown again by the wind, each other are alone together: as the sees him stagger and fall. Gaunt covers first man and woman stood face to face his bony face with his hands, but he canin the great silent world, with God look- not shut it out. Yet he is learning to ing down, and only their love between look back on even that with healthy, them.

hopeful eyes. He reads over again each

day the misspelled words in the Bible, The same June evening lights the win- thinking that the old man's haggard face dows of a Western hospital. There is looks down on him with the old kindly, not a fresh meadow-scented breath it forgiving smile. What if his blood be on gives that does not bring to some sick his hands? He looks up now through brain a thought of home, in a New-Eng- the gathering night, into the land where land village, or a Georgia rice-field. The spirits wait for us, as one who meets a windows are open ; the pure light creep- friend's face, saying, — ing into poisoned rooms carries with it “ Let it be true what you have writ, a Sabbath peace, they think. One man - The Lord be between me and thee,' stops in his hurried work, and looking forever!”



“I will not longer
Earth-bound linger :
Loosen your hold on
Hand and on ringlet,
Girdle and garment;
Leave them : they 're mine!”

“Bethink thee, bethink thee

To whom thou belongest!
Say, wouldst thou wound us,
Rudely destroying
Threefold the beauty, -
Mine, his, and thine ? "


Nay, fold your arms, beloved Friends,

Above the hearts that vainly beat ! Or catch the rainbow where it bends,

And find your darling at its feet;

Or fix the fountain's varying shape,

The sunset-cloud's elusive dye,
The speech of winds that round the cape

Make music to the sea and sky :

So may you summon from the air

The loveliness that vanished hence, And Twilight give his beauteous hair,

And Morning give his countenance,

And Life about his being clasp

Her rosy girdle once again :
But no! let go your stubborn grasp

On some wild hope, and take your pain !

For, through the crystal of your tears,

His love and beauty fairer shine; The shadows of advancing years

Draw back, and leave him all divine.

And Death, that took him, cannot claim

The smallest vesture of his birth, The little life, a dancing flame

That hovered o'er the hills of earth, –

The finer soul, that unto ours

A subtle perfume seemed to be, Like incense blown from April flowers

Beside the scarred and stormy tree, —

The wondering eyes, that ever saw

Some fleeting mystery in the air,
And felt the stars of evening draw

His heart to silence, childhood's prayer!

Our suns were all too fierce for him;

Our rude winds pierced him through and through:
But Heaven bas valleys cool and dim,

And boscage sweet with starry dew.

There knowledge breathes in balmy air,

Not wrung, as here, with panting breast :
The wisdom born of toil you share;

But he, the wisdom born of rest.

For every picture here that slept,

A living canvas is unrolled;
The silent harp he might have swept

Leans to his touch its strings of gold.

Believe, dear Friends, they murmur still

Some sweet accord to those you play,
That happier winds of Eden thrill

With echoes of the earthly lay ;

That he, for every triumph won,

Whereto your poet-souls aspire,
Sees opening, in that perfect sun,

Another blossom's bud of fire !

Each song, of Love and Sorrow born,

Another flower to crown your boy,
Each shadow here his ray of morn,

Till Grief shall clasp the hand of Joy !


Because our architecture is bad, and There are many advantages to be bad in because the architecture of our forefa- the forests of the Amazon and the intethers in the Middle Ages was good, Mr. rior of Borneo, - inexhaustible fertility, Ruskin and others seem to think there is endless water-power, - but no one thinks no salvation for us until we build in the of going there to live. same spirit as they did. But that we No age is without its attractions. There should do so no more follows than that would be much to envy in the Greek or we should envy those geological ages the Roman life, if we could have them when the club-mosses were of the size of clear of drawbacks. Many persons would forest-trees, and the frogs as big as oxen. be glad always to find Emerson in State

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