tions. As the years were added, without tion, hinting at the fair judgments and honoring verdicts of history. There were some personal incidents of the afternoon Memorial meeting of March last which were overlooked by many, but which illustrated what was in the mind of some present, who had declared, in remembering gratitude, that Cleveland had been "a noble enemy." to It has come this, that his fellowcountrymen in general, even those that dissent from his political opinions, recognize in Grover Cleveland a man who, being mortal, was not without fault and limitation, yet who stands preeminent for unfeigned purity of intention, for singular frankness, for scrupulous and un usual honesty, for faithfulness to duty, for resolution, for courage, and, above all, for absorbing, dominating patriotism. It is not strange that almost the last words that were heard to fall from his lips were these: It was very touching, for those who were near him, to see him endure the heavy strain of his executive career, then pass through a period, in his final retirement, when he was misunderstood and slighted; then emerge into an atmosphere of public appreciation and regard, enjoying, in his later years, a sort of posthumous recogni- "I HAVE TRIED SO HARD TO DO RIGHT" OOK how beneath the flickering autumn light gossamer a moment shows, A darted javelin in glancing flight And now, 't is lost to view, yet onward goes. Set loose on the soft, yearning autumn air, Life is that gossamer-here, and otherwhere, AN UNOFFICIAL LOVE-STORY IN TWO PARTS: PART SECOND BY ALBERT HICKMAN Sfrieze sont and a blue-striped tuque HE was there in an over-long, self that was not intended to be pretty and almost made a disguise, and she slipped in, dug a thoughtful hole in the robes, and buried herself. "Now drive!" she ordered, fur to the cyes. 'Seymour Street and the Upper Road, and drive hard!" "Why?" he inquired. "Because I say so." They cowered under a storm of hoof-flung snowballs, and this was her last word till they were beyond the outer lights. Then she sat up and annexed the reins. "I'll drive now," she said. There followed a momentous pause that slowed the roan to a walk and opened a glade hung in pure crystal. 'Do you know what live there in summer?" she asked suddenly, leaning forward to search the shadows. "No," said Mr. Trevor. "What?" "Raspberries, and snakes, and morning-glories." She stared in wide-eyed amazement when he laughed and said, "Magnificent!" It was a most beautiful combination, but her tone was so nicely recollective that it left the honored listener in wonder as to just when and how she might have found out, as was certainly intended. Here followed a momentous and misinterpreted pause. Then, "You 're a funny man," she said. "Why?" he asked. "Because you came." "Came! Oh, I should have continued to come for ever and ever so long; every night for as long as I had orders-" "You would!" "Of course. You produced your terms out loud what you think is your own work. Never mind, I like ambitious people; I mean I don't like any other kind. If you have n't ambition, you have n't much of anything in this world, have you? Now, would n't you like to hear what I live for?" Mr. Trevor would. Also, he could catch the glint of her eyes, and her voice was like carded silk. "You'll never believe," she said, "but here it is: to fall in love with some man who needs my help in his life-work, and to make myself so perfect that he 'll fall in love with me-for ever and ever. Amen." 'My!" he breathed, "but you are a nice girl, if that 's true! But-it seems less complicated than I thought. The The other point of view-" "Is my method, and this is myself. Careful, or I'll never tell you the truth again as long as I live.". "You forgive this time. You see you're deceptive at first sight." "And perhaps at third," she murmured. "This is only second. You never can tell." Herein she spake prophecy. "But what I was most specially going to ask about was that for ever and ever business-the exclusiveness of it." Miss Dyer afforded time to measure Mr. Mott-Trevor with her eyes and full judgment, and gave him the benefit of the doubt. "Don't be silly!" she said, speaking slowly. "That 's unworthy, too: but maybe I 've brought it on myself, so I'll little the best thing you 've said yet. I'd rather be me and be sure I had common sense than a goddess and a fool,—that is, if goddesses ever are fools, -and I s'pose some of them must be, as every other sort of person seems to be able—" They drove many starlit miles, and talked gravely of many grave matters that have been discussed in part before, until Mr. Mott-Trevor was amazed at the sweep of her vision; for that was Miss Dyer in that mood. Toward the end that mood collapsed, and the devil of irresponsibility, or whatever devil she called upon for these scenes, instructed her to turn into an unbroken wood road, which she said she knew. "Turn up your collar and pray!" she ordered when they sidled over the edge of a precipice into hemlock and cavernous darkness. From this they fared out into what seemed to be a swamp, through which the surprised roan strode like a moose, with the alders slapping his belly, and from the swamp they emerged at an extreme angle, boring through snow-laden brushwood, with the horse coughing somewhere overhead, until the sleigh lay level full of snow up to their chins. Beyond the barrier they stood up to shake this overboard, but were spared the trouble, for one runner climbed smoothly on something unseen, and they and the rugs and the snow rolled into two feet of snow outside, where Miss Dyer lay half-smothered, and laughed until the roan, with a shaft over his rump, turned his head and stared in extreme wonder. Then she arose and brushed and shook and folded things in such a matter-of-fact, motherly way, and found the main road-thereby showing that she did know that wood road-that Mr. Trevor was more impressed. It is these least things that tell. They drove home open friends, and Miss Dyer insisted on being put out at a dark and deserted corner, though Mr. Trevor failed to see the necessity; and that night, in his own room, in the coldest blood he could command, weighing at its fullest value each advantage of eminence in the ancient and established order of the families of the Empire, he made up his detached mind for himself, quite as though his family were doing it for himtain Englishmen can-that, of all the girls he had seen, or was likely to see, on as cer LXXIX-5 signs of strain, but overlying these was the mood that had concerned itself with grave matters on the night of that first drive. Behind that city stands an amphitheater of intricate, water-worn, granite hills, whose spurs drop away in spruce-flecked buttresses and rounded shoulders, until these fall in four-hundred-foot cliffs that guard small, linked fjords in the Atlantic Ocean. Into the heart of those hills, talking things that essayed to lay bare the foundations of the world, she led him by complicated turns until they were so far. uplifted that he saw the level and gray Atlantic, and undertook to note that the road was polished by the four-inch shoes of sleds that brought pulp-wood to a driving dam, and by nothing else. Thence she dropped into a seaward valley, skirted a towering hill-wall that embraced the soft thunder of a calm and unseen ocean, and turned the roan, steaming, into a suddenly rising pathway that showed overlain snow-shoe tracks and no other mark. "You 've a genius for wood roads," Mr. Trevor commented. "I've a genius for selection," she said solemnly. That path gave on a clearing the size and shape of a London drawingroom, walled on three sides with spruce and opened on the fourth to the south wind and the winter sea. But the little breath under the stars that night was north and west and moved so far overhead that it left them in supreme shelter. "Get out and blanket your horse; I don't think he 'll run away." Mr. Arthur Morley Mott-Trevor plowed overboard in silent wonder, and in wonder obeyed. Miss Dyer wrapped the rugs closer and sat serene. "Now dig over there," she commanded. She was pointing at a snow hummock that might have hidden a grave. Wha-at?" breathed Mr. Trevor. "Dig" she beat her hand on the musk-ox hide-"over there." Mr. Trevor dug with one foot and one hand, and brought up a nicely split stick. of wood. More," she said. So he brought up more, a large armful. They were not such sticks as one finds in a woodland clearing, but such as live in the wood-basket by the parlor grate-dry beech, cut to length, and split. |