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“I’ll not make a noise, and I’ll—I’ll try not to cry; but I’m afraid I’ll ha-have t-to,” she faltered, struggling to hide her eyes that grew moist in spite of herself. “The fleetin’ of youth is most sartin,” answered his wife, coining this epigram on the shortness of life’s spring-time, and sighing as she spoke. The good lady herself was looking through a stereoscope at some views and finding one of Niagara Falls she endeavored to cheer her despondent husband. They came upon him a second later, insensible, his head bleeding from a scalp wound. Hurriedly the Sheriff lifted him close to the brook, dashed water over his face, washed out the cut a little, and bound it with his handkerchief, not untenderly if in haste; for Billy had won something more than his approval..

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After supper, Betty was sought diligently, but without success. At last Moses discovered her underneath the huge red tablecloth that covered the dining-room table. She was sound asleep on the floor with Jethro in her arms and his head on her bosom. Her face was smeared with tear-stains. “She’ll be all right. May Nell and me—I—we took our lunch and went over to Potter’s pasture. Shoot! She’s waiting now! I hope the poor little kiddie—little girl—eats, don’t wait for me,—she an’ Bouncer.” “Now, Pat, kin you tell me which was the best men, the ones that rowed reel hard to save Joner, or the ones that leaned back an’ didn’t care a strawr.” “Yes, thank you. But most my heart is hungry. Will you help me to find my mama?”.