Kiaa to Know that Charley agreed with him 
so far. “I've been thinking that we ought to 
have some one here who would take a personal 
Interest in the matter. I don't, see as you intend 
to get married, and I don’t know but I’d better." 
exclaimed Charley; “I 
as j-ou ever thought of auch a 
“ I brought you over some strawberries," said 
the 'Squire. “Ruth told me your crop had 
proved a failure." 
"I atn a thousand times obliged to you," said 
the widow. " Such a nice lot as I would have 
had. I was so provoked I" 
“ If you want any more, come over and got 
em, said the 'Squire, “Mrs. Brown — she 
won t do anything with ’em, I s'pose, except 
wo use 'em in the season of ’em." 
"I want to know!" exclaimed the widow. 
“ V,MI ought to have 'em dime up. They’re so 
nice in the winter. If Mrs. Brown can’t take 
caro of em, I'll do 'em up on shares." 
“I wish you would,” said tho 'Squire. "Tilings 
arc all going to wreck and ruin about tho place. 
'Talu’t to be expected a hired woman will take 
much interest, 1 s'pose." 
“ No, 1 s'pose not," answered the widow, 
By-and-by the widow bustled out and came 
back presently with a pitcher of last year's 
cider and a plate of cuke. 
“Do have a bite," said the widow. “If I'd 
have known you was coming, I'd have made a 
cherry pie. I remember you used to like my 
cherry pies.” 
I I wish you <1 come and make cherry pies 
for mo all my lire," blurted out the 'Squire. 
I came down to ask you to marry me, Mrs. Lee." 
What a ill), 'Squire Dudley ! 
“I'm sure I'd os lief marry you as anybody,” 
answered the widow, looking as pretty as a 
Wilp, fitful month of storm and snow. 
Of threatening cloud and hurrying rain— 
I hear thy win is their trumpets blow, 
Tho heralds of a gentler (rain 
A gentler train of balmy days, 
W hen softening skies bend low and weep, 
And wake, in warm mysterious ways. 
The flowers from out their frozen sleep 
The days that we have waited long— 
1 he days that, hid the robin come, 
That nrnkn the bluebird trill his song. 
And call the swift-winged swallow home 
Warm days of sunshine that unseal 
The crystal tongnns of murmurous brooks, 
Which, gladdening us they go, reveal 
Their Joy In silent, forest nooks, 
Where, far-withdrawn, with folded wings, 
Tho warm airs scarce their belDg hold. 
And where the hidden May-flower springs, 
A thing of heaven, from out the mold, 
O Thou, who rul’st the wondrous year, 
When sorrows whelm and dangers rise, 
Teach us, as now, that Joy is near— 
Thy promise writ, in opening skies, 
North Bridgewater. March i, 1874. 
“Get married! 
didn’t know 
thing.” 
I haven't till this morning,” said the 'Squire. 
“I got to thinking about it, and I think it's a 
good plan. You've no objections ?” 
“Of course not,” answered Charley. “If 
you got married, 1 only hope that she will make 
you happy.” 
“ She •will,” said tho 'Squire, decidedly. “ I’m 
sure of it." 
“May I ask who the is?" asked Charley. 
“ r ~ 1 haven’t asked her yet," said tho ’Squire. 
“I’d rather not tell you till I find out what she 
thinks about It.” 
Prudent 'Squire Dudley ! That afternoon 
be picked a pailful of bis finest, strawberries, 
and directly after tea started off across Jots in 
the direction of the Widow Lee’s, with tho ber¬ 
ries on his arm. It was dusk before lie got to 
the widow's, for be walked slowly. He was 
thinking what to say. As he reached tho gate, 
he heard voices and stopped. 
“I never had any idea of It before,” said a 
voice which be recognized as Charley's, “He 
said ho never thought of it till this morning. 
I couldn’t find out who It was to he. I hope it, 
isn't Mi3s Sharp 1" 
The 'Squire burst out, into a cold perspiration 
at the thought of Miss Kuahp for a wife. 
“ He said hr. didn't see as I ever intended to 
get married," went on Charley. “I didn't 
tell him I’d got a wife already picked out. f'in 
sure he'd approve of my taste In making a se¬ 
lection." 
"What nonsense!” laughed a voice that the 
•Squire knew was Ruth's. “If I’m going to 
marry you, l want you to quit making such 
speeches." 
“ Hi« wife! good gracious!” 
The 'Squire came near dropping his straw¬ 
berries, he was so taken by surprise, 
"I declare!" exclaimed the Squire; "I’ve 
made a mistake this time. The rascal luia got 
the start of me. I'd like to know what Cm to 
do. I’ve told him I Intended to o»i. 
' Perhaps we had better go; we can only fail 
If wo t ry,” he said, after awhile. John was not 
used to that, word, Fail; with him It was “ Go 
do, or die." lie Dad been doing, and ho had 
conic near dying, Now, in hie convalescence, 
life seemed sweet to him and full of a deeper 
moaning than bo thought It could hold; ho 
beguu to realize that It was Gon-given, and 
given for a purpose, and he had no right to trifio 
with It. 
“ You are right, May," he said, at last; “ we 
will go home." 
So it came about that a new journal was sent 
out into tlie world, for John associated with 
himself a man of some expeWehflo ns an editor, 
and with means sullicient for Its publication. 
And then lie set himself to work; but It was 
wofck with a purpose work whose effects should 
roach beyond time. He did not care now that 
wealth and fame were slow In coming;—he did 
not caro ir they hover came at all. AH he 
wanted how Was a pleasant, homo for MaV and 
the babies; never vliou id one sentence be print¬ 
ed In the columns of ids paper that, ho would 
not have them read ; and because of this, John 
Th ayer’s journal became a welcome guest In 
many households, A fid as all right-minded 
men and women like to help In a work which 
they know to be t ruly good, help came in from 
all parts of the country ) this man sent a state¬ 
ment or the crops and the weather from a re¬ 
mote section! that woman a scrap or two for 
domestic, economy. 
Of course many poems found their way Into 
the editor's hands; occasionally, a rare bit, fit 
for publication. By-and-byo these rare bits 
came more frequently; but tlie rarest, bits were 
by one Faith Chit-ds, who gave her name as 
Mrs. Grey, a resident of the city in which tho 
paper waa published. AfterawhiJo poems by 
Faith Childs began to appear In the leading 
magazines and were copied far and near. 
“Do you know a Mrs. Grey of this city?” 
suddenly asked the editor of his wife, at dinner 
one day. 
“ I do not know any one by that name in the 
city,” she answered. 
“ Mrs. Grey is Faith CniLDS,” 
he explained, as lie saw his wife's 
cheeks (lush. 
lt Oh!" with a sigh of relief, 
Was bis only answer, 
“ Have you your domestic econ¬ 
omy column ready for next 
week?" tie asked presently, “ for 
If you have I will take It to the 
THE 'SQUIRE'S MISTAKE 
BY' EBEN E. REXFORD 
fresh ns a new-blown rose. The ‘Squire saw 
her just as sho came opposite the garden, and 
called out “Good morning” in his cheery way. 
“Good morning," answered Ruth. 
“ Pleasant morning, isn't it ?" said the 'Squire, 
coming up to the fence. Ruth had halted In 
the road. 
"Beautiful weather," answered she. “Too 
pleasant to stay In-doors,” 
“Are your strawberries ripe yet ?" asked tho 
'Squire, wondering that he had never noticed 
wliat a pretty face Ruth had, before. 
"Our strawberries!" laughed Ruth; “we 
haven't got one! Our old rooster got In last 
week and coaxed tho liens in, and between 
them they ruined the crop.” 
“Too had!" said the sympathetic 'Squire; 
“have some of these, Ruth— they’re just ripe 
enough to bo good.” 
Ho picked some dusters and handed them 
over the fence to Ruth. 
“Thank you,"said Ruth. "How 
nice they are! Mother was mak¬ 
ing great calculations on her 
strawberry jam. She was terri¬ 
bly vexed when she found out 
what the lions had done." 
“ I’ve got lots more than we 
shall use,” said ^Squire Dudley. 
“I’ll send some over to your 
mother." 
“She’ll he much obliged, I’m 
sure," said Ruth. “ If you have 
more than you want-" 
“Plenty of them,” said the 
’Squire; “ plenty of them an’ 
welcome." 
“I must be going," said Ruth. 
“ Good morning." 
“ ftood morning," returned the 
'Squire, looking after her as she 
went down the road. “1 declare, 
there isn't a prettier elrl around 
than Ruth Lee ! If I was young, 
now-. I’m fifty,” he said, at 
last. “ I’m fifty, but I don’t look 
It. Girls as young as Ruth marry 
men as old as 1 be. I’m sure we 
need a good housekeeper. Mrs. 
Brown, she's old and fussy, and 
this way of living ain't half liv- 
ing. I do b'leeve I’ll marry her, 
if she’ll have me. Maybe Char¬ 
ley '11 think It foolish, but I can’t 
help that." - 7 ^i-- — 
“Don't you think we need a 
housekeeper?" ho said to Char- 
ley, that afternoon. ~ 
“A housekeeper?" asked Char¬ 
ley; “we have got one. What ^ 1- 
do we want of more ?” 
“ Yes, I know," said the 'Squire, 
turning a little red In the face ; 
“but Mrs. Brown ain't such a 
woman as we need. She don't 
take such an interest In tho work 
as a woman would who—who had 
more Interest In It." 
At which extremely logical ar- 
gument the'Squire got more fid- /WOAW 
getty than ever. /u mw 
“I understand that,” said lUYAAVY 
Charley. “If she had a per- /A\W'\'Nv 
sonal interest In the place, and V\\\ !;Xw 
in being prudent and keeping \vayy 
things up, she’d do better than V, " Yv ^ 
she does now. Now, she gets her ^ \ 
pay for her work, and that’s all ’ ^ /' 
she cares for. That's about all 
we can expect of her.” 
“Just so,” said the 'Squire, 
HOW FAME GAME TO JOHN THAYER 
AND HIS WIFE. 
BY' KENNETH DUNN. 
John Thayer was on the editorial staff of 
tho Weekly Hemisphere, which sent out its 
thousands of copies Trom the heart, of a great 
city. John's sanctum was a little den up five 
flights of stairs; his home was in three rooms, 
up4,wo flights of stairs, in a suburb of the great 
city. 
Summer carnc. 1 lie editors, one by one, went, 
off on excursions; hut the paper must be left in 
mm 
s\ 
