Homespun Tales

and since there was a halt in the proceedings and no need of his services for an hour or two, he found

almost to death, jumping i

thought I was a fool to

d as that, but it

ld be better off dead; but so shoul

e was constantly doing this, and she often felt that her mental horizon broadened in the act;

I happened to be nearest to

earest to the people in trouble,

istributed, I'm right in line with my hand stretch

s he led the way to a bench under a

althy Brooks, whose nephew Claude often came to visit her in Edgewood. Life on a farm a mile and a half distant from post-office and stores; life in the house with Rufus, who was rumored to be somewhat wild and unsteady,-this prospect seemed a trifle dull and uneventful to the trivial part of her, though to the better part it was enough. The better part of her loved Stephen Waterman, dimly feeling the richness of his nature, the tenderness of his affection, the strength of his character. Rose was not destitute either of imagination or sentiment. She did not relish this constant weighing of Stephen in the balance: he was too good to be weighed and considered. She longed to be carried out of herself on a wave of rapturous assent, but something seemed to hold her back,-some seed of discontent with the man's environment and circumstances, some germ of longing for a gayer, brighter, more varied l

his boots and jumped into the river to save Alcestis Cra

other? And would she not despise herself for rejecting him simply because he was count

r somebody in the village. Look at Mite Shapley, that dancing little one, slipping over the falls and sk

h. You know he's always buying lumber and logs without knowing what he is going to do with them. They jus

ne is Short Dennett.-What

ed, and if the boys come skidding down the bank with their spiked shoes, the poor things will never

onderously over the falls together, rose within a second of eac

to each other as if they had been glued in that position. Rose thought, as she watched them, who but Stephen would have cared what became

Some of them tried to start a small jam on their own account; others stranded themselves for good and a

, upon my word, the minister and doctor couples are still together. I wonder if they'll g

s opportunity,

nt. It's the same way with men and women. Oh, Rose, there is n't a man in the world that's loved you as long, or knows how to love you any better than I do.

truth and passion in the man had broken the girl's bonds for the moment. Her vision was clearer, and, realizing the treasures of love and fidelity that were being offered her, sh

wing whether his feet were touching the solid

h only for one. His solitude was peopled again when he fed the cattle, for Rose's f

still, save for the crickets' ceaseless chirp, the soft thud of an August sweeting dropping

egan to love her, though he was only fourteen and quite unconscious tha

anned goods, beans, and ginghams dwelt in genial proximity. When she entered, just a little pink-and-white slip of a thing with a tin pail in her hand and a sunbonnet falling off her wavy hair, Ste

ns he held in his hand, augury of the future, had he known it,-and she accepted them with a smile. She dropped her memorandum; he picked it up, and she smiled again, doing still more fatal damage than in the first instance. No words were spoken, but Rose, even at ten, had less need of them than most of her sex, for h

e the same again. The years went on, and the boy became man, yet no other image had ever troubled the deep, placid waters of his heart. Now, after many denials, the hopes and longings of his nature had been answered, and Rose had promised to marry him. He would sacrifice his passion for logging and driv

the farther shore. The river was free of logs, and under the light of the moon it shone like a silver mirror. The soft wind among the fir branches breathed Rose's name; the