“I suppose you mean Captain Ryder,” 
said Joe, “ for here lie is, as if he had risen 
from the earth.” 
Chlok’b father had that morning given 
her orders not to disturb him all clay. He 
was momentarily expecting something to 
turn up. 
'■ I am going away, Miss Chloe,” said the 
captain, taking off his hat, “ do you suppose 
the doctor would refuse to see me? ” 
“ I think—I am afraid he would, sir,” hesi¬ 
tated Ciiloe. “ Father is Strange to-day.” 
Joe, looking back from the gate, saw a 
troubled face. But an untroubled one nod¬ 
ding from the opposite walk attracted him. 
Joe was made of sunshine, and fled before 
shadows. 
Captain Ryder looked at the white fore¬ 
head so early taking furrows, at the smooth 
brown hair and patient mouth, as if he want¬ 
ed to fix them in his memory. 
“ Why did he call you ‘ wolf-fighter,’ little 
Chloe ?” 
She colored and looked disturbed. 
“ It is because of a foolish speech I made 
to Joe not long since, sir. I said poverty 
was a wolf, and I was fighting it. But I do 
not mind it, truly, sir.” 
lie reached over the sill and took her hand, 
“ Good-by, little warrior. The wolf will 
never overcome you. There is freedom for 
you some day.” 
“ O, do you think,” she begged, clinging to 
his strong fingers, “ that my father will get 
well, and be as he once was again ?” 
41 1 hope so,” hesitated their friend. 44 But 
in any case, God will order things for the 
best.” 
41 I know that,” she said, cheerfully, 
44 Good-by, sir. And pray give my compli¬ 
ments to your wife.” 
“I will,” promised the captain, heartily, 
44 and I’ll tell her what a dear little girl you 
arc." 
Chloe sewed very rapidly and gladly all 
the rest of the afternoon. 
She prepared tea with unusual care, for her 
father had scarcely tasted a morsel that day. 
But he did not answer the little bell. Blie 
ran softly up stairs, and knocked. “How 
sorry be will be that Captain Ryder is gone," 
she soliloquized beside the door. 
44 Go down stairs, child,” hissed a voice 
through the keyhole. “Let me alone; I 
have life and death in my hands.” 
Chloe crept down shuddering. His voice 
had cut to her bonus. She lull afraid of her 
father. All die /April gladness had passed 
away. She sat in the dining-room and 
shuddered, while the shadows crept from 
corners and piled on each other. Sin; hoard 
all day sounds die away in the streets. And 
having listened in dismal dread for noises in 
the room above till a late hour, she went 
softly to her own room. 
What was it? Chloe started up in the 
night, suddenly. What had waked her? 
She had been in a deep sleep. She sat and 
listened, as if waiting for something. 
There was a horrible crash; a yell; anoth¬ 
er crash. Then a noise t hat rolled and shook 
the house like thunder. 
She leaped from her bed and ran across the 
hall. The laboratory door was closed, hut a 
suffocating fume spread from it. Chloe 
flew to a window, and fell, half fainting 
against the sill. Some neighbors, startled 
from dreams, were staring out of the oppo¬ 
site house. She lifted her gurgling voice 
and cried for help. 
Awe-stricken men rushed up the stairway, 
and shook Dr. Ward’s door, and hewed at 
it. When the barrier had fallen, their wives 
drew his daughter away, while they entered 
and brought him out. 
Not until tender humanity had removed 
all that had surrounded and made him hide¬ 
ous, and had smoothed and beautified, was 
Chloe allowed to see her dead, — to kneel 
by the gashed, purple face, and touch the 
broken hands that would not toil with mis¬ 
taken enthusiasm any more. 
People pitied her. The human animal en¬ 
joys pitying his fellow. They slu'd no tears 
with her that did not many times multiply 
the exclamation, “ Poor man, poor man!” 
A philosopher might have detected some 
element of satisfaction in the grief of those 
good villagers, so often did they exchange 
nods and “ I told } T ou sos," thus building up 
their own and each other’s wisdom. 
Chloe was most comforted when Joe 
came and held her hands silently, and Char- 
lamine fell on her lap, sobbing. She felt, 
dimly through her pain, how beloved and 
happy Cuarlamtne was, how desolately 
desolate she. 
So all the sad panorama of death passed 
before her. 
CHAPTER III. 
Citloe was waiting for the hack to carry 
her away from the old house. She wandered 
over rooms that were her father’s and hers 
no longer. She sat down in the laboratory 
and wept softly. Only a few woeks before this 
her father had bent an enthusiast ic face be¬ 
fore that apparatus. Now he had found the 
elixir of life indeed. She sat looking on 
things she should never see again, till the. 
door bell called from the world outside. 
Chloe locked the laboratory and went down 
stairs. 
“ My trunk is here," she informed coaclice, 
before observing the fashion of his features. 
Then she started, to find not Jehu, but Cap¬ 
tain Ryder was the applicant for admission. 
Either Chloe or the captain lorgot she 
was an accountable young lady, and not a 
little child, for she was taken to the good 
sailor’s shoulder to sob out a heart-break. 
44 And now, little one,” said Captain Ry¬ 
der, putting her in a seat, 41 since I have 
come all the way from sea-board to hold this 
council with you, and since your father, in 
one of our talks, partially intrusted you to 
me, you must tell me all about, your circum¬ 
stances.” 
44 All is soon told, sir,” she said, with a lit¬ 
tle rainbow smile. 44 1 am going away to 
sew in a millinery establishment.” 
“Sew! Um —yes,” mused the captain. 
“ A great many girls make a living in that 
way. You like to sew V” 
“ I have been accustomed to it,” evaded 
Ciiloe. 41 It gives me a pain in my back, 
sometimes,” she added frankly. 
44 Why don’t you teach ?” 
44 1 cannot, sir.” 
“ What! a wise little woman like you un¬ 
able to instruct others! But you are de¬ 
termined to keep on wolf-fighting in some 
way, are you ?” 
44 Yes, sir, I must.” 
The back driver’s voice at that moment 
checked bis horses before the gate. Captain 
Ryder sprang to the door. 
“ Drive on,” ho cried, 44 the young lady has 
changed her mind, and will take passage in 
another craft. Drive on !” 
“Why, Captain Ryder!” exclaimed 
Ciiloe, standing up, almost dumb with as¬ 
tonishment. 
“ Bit down, little one, sit down,” said the 
captain, coming back with a reddening face, 
“ Now, I want to know if you’ll ship with 
me. There , it’s out!” 
44 1 never was on the ocean, Captain Ry¬ 
der,” replied Chloe innocently, “and I 
don’t quite understand. You never engage 
women for sailors?” 
“ We do sometimes,” said the captain, 
smiling. 
Chloe had known so little companion¬ 
ship with lliose of her own sox and age, that 
her feminine acuteness was certainly without 
an edge. Bhe lifted her simple child eyes to 
him again with a flush of intelligence. 
44 Perhaps you mean to make me your 
stewardess, sir. But I am afraid,” shaking 
Jier head, “ I should not know what to do." 
44 Yes. I mean to make you my steward¬ 
ess, Chloe. Peculiarly mine. And I will tell 
you what to do. Marry me.” 
* “ But, sir,” trembled Chloe, recovering 
from a shock that had sent the scales of 
childhood from her eyes, “ I thought — you 
had a wife." 
“ She has been dead these many years,” 
said Captain Ryder, solemnly. “ She was 
older than I. We were very happy together. 
Bui”— 
lie took Chloe’s little gloved hands and 
held them. Bhe fluttered under his deep 
gaze, the sunrise of love throwing rays 
along her very eyelashes. No other word 
betrayed the silent interchange. When he 
spoke again his voice sounded tremulous, 
though only commonplace Avoids were its 
burden. 
“ I’m an awkward old fellow, Chloe. 
I’m cross, too. You’ll find that out. I’ve 
fought all my life against a passionate tem¬ 
per, but it sometimes overcomes me. That 
is my wolf. Are you afraid to enter such a 
field ? You need fight no other wolf. But 
if you will undertake it, I am certain your 
sweet, patient exorcism will set me li ce and 
make me the man I would like to be for 
your sake." 
He drew off the glove that covered her 
needle-pricked hand, and pressed her rough 
fingers against his lips. 
“ Have I not told my Avife, ns I prom¬ 
ised ?” he laughed, not many days after, “Avhat 
a dear girl you are, little, wolf-fighter?" 
- +++ - 
CITY VISITORS, 
BY SHIRLEY DARE. 
The air was spiced with cinnamon roses, 
and cool Avith dew. Mother and I turned 
down our sleeves, after the last milk pan Avas 
washed and the last, can of strawberries sot 
out to cool, with a great sense of rest and 
thankfulness. Farmers’ wives Avill know 
why. We had been preserving fruit all day, 
and though the housework was left to Nor- 
Avegiau Ninna, the hired help, neither of us 
had found any leisure that day. While she 
A\ r as about it, mother thought she might as 
well dry some strawberry leaves for use in 
sickness, and all the herb bags up garret bad 
to be brought down and inspected, the bags 
washed and dried in the hot sun, and the 
papers changed. 
About noon I Avas shelling peas for Ninna, 
who, unless encouraged and set right, per¬ 
sisted in putting off dinner till tAVo o’clock, 
to suit her convenience, unless, indeed, she 
chose to order it on the table at half-past ten. 
It Avas aggravating enough to Leave my work 
to help her, but as if that was not sufficient, 
in came my small brother, not the smallest 
one, with his foot badly torn by filling out 
of a cherry tree on some newly cut sprouts 
at its base, so t hat took half an hour more to 
dress and soothe. Mother’s exhausted face 
haunted me all the afternoon, but now work 
was done, and avc were free to luxuriate in 
the purple twilight. 
“ It’s worth •while to work, that rest may 
seem bo good,” said mother, geutly. 
“I think," said Tom, my smallest brother, 
from the grass, where nothing Avas to be 
seen of him but a very red head and two 
bare feet sticking up, “ rest’s like religion ; 
for the more I have the more 1 want.” 
This, from a notoriously lazy and de¬ 
moralized youngster, uttered Avith all gravi¬ 
ty, provoked mirth. 
“ You must appreciate it by this time,” 
mother said. 
“People think, now,” began that young 
worthy in an injured tone, 44 that because I 
don’t work enough to spoil my growth and 
shake my pelt loose, I don’t do nothing. 
Now I’ve been Avay cross the ten-acre lot to¬ 
day twice, carrying Avatcr jugs, and dug out 
a woodchuck — me and ToAvscr did — and 
split, a Hubbard squash for Ninna, and read 
the County Gazette, and just as I was try¬ 
ing to improve my mind, I was called on by 
that culinary creature to split baking wood 
for the Avhole family. I declare if I’m so 
put upon much lunger you’ll have to kidnap 
a boy to work* for you won’t have me with 
you. Great family that can’t support one 
independent member!” 
44 You look happy, mother,” I said, as she 
leaned against the door-post, her worn 
broAvn eyes shining with feeling, as she 
looked at us, Harry on the fence, myself 
on the door-stone, Tom in the grass. 
44 The old woman’s so glial slie’s through 
her Avork, and glad, beside, that her children 
are growing up out of her way, when they’re 
such plagues and pother all the time,” her 
affectionate eyes belying the words. 
So were anc enjoying home comfort and 
the hard Avon rest that fell to our lot, when 
a carriage drove up to the gate, Avliich wasn’t 
a gate at all, but a Ioav stile over a mossy 
stone in the fence. The faces were none we 
had ever seen before. A gentleman, Avell 
dressed, was leading towards us a lady veiled 
in crape, and a pale, delicate girl, in a fashion¬ 
able Scotch check traveling dress, flounced 
and ruffled, while a boy of fourteen, the 
mimic Image of his father in dress, but far 
more important., flayed behind. Molhcr 
rose to receive the u^av comers. 
“ Aunt Emily, you don’t remember Asa 
Jeavitt, do you ? I’ve brought my Avife and 
daughter Helen to see you. Margaret, 
this is my aunt, who sent you the Bible 
Avbcn Ave were married." 
The tall lady thrcAV aside her veil to be¬ 
stow the kiss of relationship, showing a deli¬ 
cate, refined face, almost distinguished in its 
stylo of beauty, but pale and melancholy, 
spite of the smile that lit her fine eyes. She 
kissed us heartily, and Miss Helen followed 
dutifully, though her violet eyes opened 
Avidc as 1 Avas introduced in my calico gOAvn, j 
without a collar, truth compels me to state. 
“Mother wrote us, AuntE milt,” said the 
gentleman, as they Avere comfortably seated, 
“ what a pleasant place you had, and Mar¬ 
garet Avas not strong this summer, so avc 
came up to see you, and try your country 
air. What a lovely place you have! Mar¬ 
garet, this seems like paradise! We have 
enjoyed every mile as we rode along.” 
“ Have you had supper?” asked mother, 
intent on comfortable facts. 
“ No; but, Aunt Emily, hoav don’t go to 
giving yourself any trouble for us. We don’t 
mind what Ave have, just some tea and some 
bread and butter; that aa ill do.” 
You know Avhat " tea and bread and but¬ 
ter” means in hospitable families ? Of course 
mother prepared a nice supper. Ninna had 
gone to bed at 8 o’clock, as her habit Avas, 
but IIarhy made a fire, and I cut cold beef 
and fried bam and eggs and baked crumpets 
in half an hour, and srav the travelers sit 
doAvn to a substantial supper, Avliich found 
appetites ready to dispose of it. 
Then there Avas a consultation about beds. 
Helen must sleep with me, as her parents 
Avoukl have the only spare chamber, and 
Theodore would have to put up with the 
hoys’ room. Tom volunteered to lake a quilt 
and sleep on the hay, for fun, but Harry's 
foot pained him and he could not risk taking 
cold in that Avay. Mother solved the matter 
by taking him into her own bed to take care 
of him. Father Avas away at market over 
night. 
The visitors were very pleasant, and we 
sat up Iavo houis beyond our bed time, talk¬ 
ing about mutual relations and friends. 
Cousin Asa av«s very fond of bis wife and 
vety tender of her, we could see. 
44 Aunt, do you think there is any danger 
of Margaret taking cold?” he asked, anx¬ 
iously, as they retired. “ I don’t think your 
country houses are as light as we are used 
to. My darling, do you feel the drafts?” 
44 No,” she responded, in an uncertain 
cadence. 44 1 shall sleep in my double-gown. 
I guess it Avon’t hurt me much. Aunt 
Emily aagII let us have breakfast at nine 
to-morrow, Avon’t she?” looking at my 
mother Avith that fascinating smile Avliich 
had brought her everything she wanted since 
she was a child. 
Of course they could have breakfast at 
nine, and mother and I were discussing the 
bill of fare, when cousin Margaret came 
out in her Avrapper to speak mysteriously. 
“Dear Aunt Emily, my husband doesn’t 
know it, but I’m so sure you’ll knoAV Avliat’s 
to be done with his shoes. Will the girl 
black them for him ? He hates to do them 
so, and I Avon’t have him annoyed if 1 can 
help it. And, aunt, ran I have a glass of 
cream for him before breakfast ? The doc¬ 
tor ordered it for him three times a day, to 
build him up. He grew so run down last 
Avintcr with care of his business.” 
Mother, on that, must go to the dairy and 
bring a glass of cream at once, that a night 
draught might be served. 
“Are you my cousin that graduated at 
Wind Hill?" asked Miss Helen, languidly, 
as we were shut in our room. “Clara 
Clay told me about you. You don’t look a 
bit as I thought you Avould. Do you know, 
before I kneAV you to-night, I thought you 
were the hired girl?” 
My graduation at Wind Hill would have 
been of little service if it had not raised me 
above such Innocent little speeches as this 
and others that followed. 
44 IIoav hard this mattress is,” sighed 
Helen, in bed. “I have a spring bed at 
home, soft as sponge. Are you Avriting? Do 
come to bed. The light keeps mo aAvake.” 
I put up my journal, Avliich always re¬ 
ceived an entry before 1 slept. Miss Helen 
surveyed my toilet composedly. 44 Don't 
you wear any corset? I can’t think Avhat 
you can be made of! You wear nicer skirts 
than I should tliink you would with that cali¬ 
co dress. Does your girl flute ruffles like that ? 
You did them? Oh, won’t you do some for 
me? Mauuna would admire to have you! 
Oh, dear, Ibis bed is so hard!” and so on till 
she went to sleep. 
What seemed a pleasure in receiving our 
relatives at first, I must own, was soon sen¬ 
sibly felt by shoulders Avliich Averc always 
adequately burdened. But making extra 
beds and cooking extra meals avus nothing 
compared to the task of amusing our friends. 
They inspected the farm, the first day. 
Helen rode on the mower, and they all 
picked the strawberry bed half clean. Theo¬ 
dore asked for a horse to ride, and avus dis¬ 
gusted with.the gait of the farm horses. Ho 
undertook to drive them, but came back 
with the beasts in a lather of foam, and 
growled good humoredly about the slowness 
of everytliing in the country. He chaffed 
my mother, openly scouted my luird-hamled 
brothers, with their knowledge of trout 
brooks, and black birch trees, and bathing 
places. 44 Don’t you have anything but 
that?" he contemptuously asked. “No 
base ball, nor billiards, nor driving on the 
race course ! Should think you’d suffocate ! 
Tell you what, I’m going to sleep lime aAvay 
ill this awful hole! ” 
The elders were more polite, but equally 
incapable of understanding our simple life. 
Margaret would put her head out of the 
parlor door to say, 44 Dear Aunt Emily, do 
leave that work alone. You look so tired! 
I wish I knew Iioav to help you.” To me 
it, was, “ Jane might be such a stylish figure 
if she would only wear corsets. Do you 
daucc? You must come and see us, and 
learn music some winter”—little cuts at 
my deficiencies, not. unkindly meant in the 
least, but enough to wake old longings for 
culture beyond my lot, and to make me on 
very poor terms with myself. 
The result of their visit was to disgust 
our cousins with country life. 41 So many 
privations” they said, 44 and such constant 
work.” They besought my father with 
friendly interest, to sell out aud come to 
town where he need not work so hard—and 
heaved a sigh of pity as they said fareAVell 
four days later. 
“ You look tired out, mother,” I said, 
when Ave reconnoitered ourselves again. 
“I’ve been up Avith poor Harry every 
night, bathing his foot,” she said, wearily ; 
44 and the care of thinking Avliat I should do 
for those people nearly used me up. Pa 
gave me a letter just now. Where is it, I 
wonder ?” 
“ Katie Stone wants me to take a young 
lady from the city to hoard a month,” she 
said, on reading it. 
“ Never a city girl again,” I said firmly. 
“ But her health is bad, Kate says, and 
her nerves all broken down, aud it Avill be 
the saving of her to come here and rest. 
Kate thinks I won’t be sorry if I take her, 
and it’s only one anyhow. If it was you, 
alone, now, pugs!" playfully patting my 
cheek, with moisture in her eye, glorious 
little tired, unselfish mother. 
It was night again Avlien Bertha Cleve¬ 
land came—a large-framed, quiet girl, who 
stepped quickly from the stage, and pointed 
to one small trunk as her sole luggage. We 
could sec that she was large-framed, but 
worn looking, with exhausted color, and 
shady, ominous circles round her eyes. Not 
pretty, but interesting, from the common 
sense in her face. Her greetings were civil, 
but rather abrupt. 
“ Mrs. Kent, since you’ve been so kind as 
to take me," she addressed mother, “you had 
better understand me at once, I only want 
quiet and pure air, but I don’t expect to live 
on air. I am tired out, and shan’t Avant to 
say a word for Layo or three days anyhow. 
Just let me get up avIicu I please, and make 
my own bed, bo as not to disturb anyone, 
and if you will have three baked potatoes 
for me about eight o’clock that is all I shall 
want for breakfast. I’m very fond of them 
and can’t always have them at home.” 
“ Don’t you Avant something else?” asked 
mother, Avonderingly. 
“ Some bread and salt. Give me some 
juicy meat once a day, vegetables and fruit 
for the other meals. And if you briDg a pie 
nonr me, or preserves, I—Avon’t eat them. I f 
you Avill take me at my word, and let me get 
on in my oavii fashion, I’ll agree to give you 
very little trouble.” 
She avus literally as good as she promised. 
Nobody saw her till nine the next morning, 
when she came out, fresh but silent, and dex- 
trously made her own breakfast, and cleared 
it away, noiseless as a cut. Then she dis¬ 
appeared somewhere, Tom said in the shade 
of the maples by the hay field, only coming 
hack about nightfall for a saucer of berries 
and slice of brown bread. Mother had the 
tact to leave her to her oavh devices,—a style 
of treatment which won the girl more surely 
than anything else they could have done. 
By-aud-by the worn look left the anxious 
brow, the pale check wore a shade of crim¬ 
son, and the flower of acquaintance opened 
hIoav and sweet as the iii/mphau on a lake. 
She made friends w ith mother and Tom first. 
She Avas to he found Avith that freckled boy, 
bunting birds’ nests, not stealing them, in the 
upland Avoods; gathering sheaves of cardinal 
flowers and baskets of moss; picking up 
chips, bringing in wood, and Aveeding the 
onion bed, beside teaching him Latin declen¬ 
sions of an evening. That young cynic de¬ 
clared off hand, that he liked her as Avell as 
if site wasn’t a girl. 
She Avon Ntnna’s heart by Avalking down 
on Monday with a bundle of her own wash¬ 
ing and gravely asking for a place at the 
wash-tuh. There was no laundress in the 
region, and she knew it, so all the season she 
patiently bent over the wash-hoard, on Mon¬ 
day, Avriuging the Avhitc clothes from the 
cool water, at mother’s side. The time Avas 
beguiled by listening to mother’s stories of 
old, when the farm avus new, or when she 
was a school girl, just, entering society in 
Philadelphia. No one ever seemed so en¬ 
chanted us this town girl Avith these simple 
stories. 
“ You don’t knOAv,” she said, on one of the 
last days of her stay, 44 what good you have 
done me, body and soul. I’m rested iioav, 
ready to work, and ready to be a good woman 
again. I avus tired of everytliing when I 
came here, ready to hate the sight of people, 
too tired to keep my temper, or Avork up to 
my engagements.” 
41 It pays for my trouble, to see the won- 
ders our country air can do for people,” 
said mother, smiling. 
“Does it? I think Jane deserves some¬ 
thing more, at least. She hasn’t called me 
stuck up, or green, once since I've been here." 
I blushed, lor though mother kept the un¬ 
civil Avoids down, I had thought the stranger 
both queer aud proud, iu her dreamy silence 
and reserve. 
“ I knoAV Avhat you Avant, more than any¬ 
thing else in the world, Jane,” she said, 
turning to me Avith much kindness, “that 
is a piano. You are not ready to buy one, 
hut Ill tell you what I'll do,— buy one for 
you, aud send it out, to let you pay for it by 
installments in your own time. Don’t say 
anything about it—my mind is settled. It 
will please me almost as much as it will you.” 
So, when she left us, straight, spirited and 
well colored willi health, — the effect of un¬ 
limited sleep, lounging, pure air and simple 
food, she kept her Avoid. When the great 
packing box crane, and the neAv instrument 
Avas set up in our sitting-room, the sun did 
not see a happier girl than myself. 
To this day, Avhen the keys give forth the 
silvery notes of Schubert’s harmonies, or 
the SAveetness of Beethoven’s Avalizes, be¬ 
yond Avhieh my skill will never pass, the 
frank, kind heart of Bertha Cleveland 
seems to respond in the strains. Every sum¬ 
mer she comes to us, thinner and brighter 
each year, but never failing to bring good, 
and receive it, by the time she goes back 
Avith cheek like a scarlet maple leaf, in Oc¬ 
tober. From father to Tom, all are glad to 
see our quiet, unlroublous, city visitor. 
Asa Jeavett and his family haven’t been 
to see us since. 
Youth in Old Age.—T he girl of your 
youth is in that aged crone, while you (at 
eighty) are the boy still that courted her— 
heart and sense young, hut body old. 
-♦-*-*- 
There are none to pet the child iu his 
second dotage; he is a “ stranger ” again. 
