said to herself; “I'm sure he was very pleasant. 
I think I shall quite like him.” 
And with Mr. Kendall there remained for 
many days the thought of a pulo, sweet ftce, 
aud soft, musical voice that lingered pleasantly 
In his memory. 
One morning, some weeks subsequently, as 
Mr. KENDALL was at work 111 his garden, he saw 
a slight figure robed in mourning pass along the 
road, and the face belonging to it ho recognized 
as Nok.ma Fielding'S. He bowed with a hush 
on liis bronzed face, and 'lie returned the salu¬ 
tation with a quiet smile. The school house 
was distant less than a quarter of a mile trora 
Mr. Kendall’s, and there was no other dwel¬ 
ling nearer to it than his. He had always be¬ 
fore felt it au annoyance that the school house 
was so near, on account of tho mischief fre¬ 
quently perpetrated by I lie school children ; but 
somehow tills season he felt the annoyance less 
thau ho had ever done before, and It, wan not an 
unpleasant sight to see i he teacher walking by 
every morning, accompanied by several of her 
pupils. 
Mr. Kendall dreaded visiting tho schools 
quite as much as examining tho teacbora, but 
it was a tai-k which roust bo performed 
theless 
IN AUTUMN 
The year grows splendid; on the mountain steep 
Now lingers long the war n and gorgeous light, 
Dying by slow decrees Into tho deep 
Delicious night. 
The fatal triumph of the perfect year, 
Rises the woods' magnificent array ; 
Beyond the purple mountain bights appear. 
And slope away. 
Tho elm, with musb’ol slow motion, laves 
His lone, lithe branches on the tender air, 
While from his top of gray, Sordello waves 
Ills scarlet bair. 
When Spring first hid her violets 'neath the fern. 
Where Summer's fingers opened fold on fold 
The odorous, wild red rose, now burn 
The leaves of gold. 
The loftiest hill—the lowliest flowering herb— 
The fairest fruit of season and of oliiuo— 
All wear alike the mood ot the superb 
Autumnal time. 
But where the painted leaves are falling fast. 
Among the vales, beyond the furthest hill 
There sets a shadow—dim, and sad, and vast, 
And Ungers still. 
And still we hoar » volco among the hills, 
A voice that moans among the haunted woods, 
And with the mystery of sorrow fills 
The solitudes. 
For while gay Autumn gilds the fruit and leaf. 
And doth her fairest festal garments wear, 
Lo I Time, all noiseless, in his mighty sheaf 
Binds up the year. 
Tho mighty sheaf which never Is unbound- 
Tho reaper whom your souls beseech la vain— 
The loved, lost year, which never may be found 
Or loved again. [W/iittic.r. 
already said, but not with ihe pallor of ill 
health. It was more as though some sudden 
sorrow had blanched the roses from her cheeks, 
leaving her white and fair a? a lily. Aline of 
crimson showed itself in the pretty Ups; the 
wistful blue eyes were shaded with long, soft 
lashes, and back from the pure, white brow was 
brushed tho wavy gold“ii hair, tinned with a 
shade of btown. The form was slight but grace¬ 
ful and was arrayed In deep mourning. Her 
face was very youthful, and yet there was a 
maturity of expression rarely seen In the coun¬ 
tenances of young maidens. 
Mr. Kendall found himself unusually em¬ 
barrassed in trying to question this beautiful 
and refined girl, so different from the buxom 
maidens with whom he was accustomed to deal, 
and it is lo be feared that, his queries were not 
always tho most pertinent to t,he subject. It 
did not, however, require much tact on impart, 
to discover that *lie was possessed of au excel¬ 
lent education, and it was with a sense of relief 
that ho felt himself authorized to write her a 
jertifleate. 
“What Dame shall I write t" he inquired, hes¬ 
itatingly. 
“Norma Fielding.” 
He held the pen suspended for a moment as 
he looked at her inquiringly“ The daughter 
of tho late GkOBGK Itkldino?” ho ques¬ 
tioned. 
She bowed without speaking, and Mr. Ken¬ 
dall felt the blood rush in a quick tide to his 
face as he thought that tli : a beautiful girl had 
probably been a neighbor of his all her life, and 
yet ho diil not know that he hail ever seen her 
I before. He felt that some apology was needed. 
family in poverty. Mr. Kendall was aware of 
these circumstances, and honored the brave 
girl, who had been brought up and educated so 
fur above her station, for taking tho first means 
that suggested llself to earn her owu support. 
He pitied her deeply, for her sad face told only 
too plainly of the loss she had sustained In the 
death of a loving and devoted father. As he 
passed her the certificate he said. In a tone 
more tenderly modulated thau was his wont, 
** i knew your father well. He was a kind man 
a good neighbor." 
A sudden rush of tears dimmed the blue eyes 
as the kind words fell upon her ear. “Thank 
you," she said, rising; “he was a good father 
to us." 
“ 1 wish you success with your school," said 
Mr. Kendall, rising also, “ but I should think 
you were qualified to teach a higher school than 
this." 
“Perhaps I might do better pecuniarily,but 
I prefer to be at home with my mother for the 
present," 
“Ah I pardon me," and tho staid bachelor 
blushed a3 deeply as a school boy ; “Then you 
hoard at home ?” 
“ Yes sir." 
“ Isn't. It a long walk ?" 
“I believe they call it two miles, but it does 
nut seem as long as that to tu*\ T shall soon 
get used to It." 
“ Again, 1 wish you success, Miss Fielding. 
If i-that Is, if—If you should ever need my 
services, l shall be pleased to aid you." 
“You are very kind—thank you,” faltered 
the girl as she b >de him good afternoon and 
departed, 
“I always thought him cross and stern," she 
never- 
For some reason ho dreaded NorisiA'a 
the least. Bud made his first visit there. She hud 
been looking fotward to tills visit, with appre¬ 
hension, for kind ns he had been to her, she 
could not forget that he was called hard and 
stern by his neighbors. But ir : lio hud known 
that his trepidation exceeded her own when lie 
entered the school-room that afternoon n his 
self-possessed manner, her fears would have 
been laid to rest. He tried to listen to tho classes 
with due Interest, bur, much I fear that bo paid 
moie attention to the teacher than the pupilB 
and know little more about their attainments 
when he left than when ho mtered. Ho gave 
Norma kind words of encouragement, which 
was much for hitn, and was something pleasant 
for her to think of In her wearisome lire. 
The young teacher found It very lonely to 
spend bo many hours of each day in one tedious 
routine among those children, who could of 
course bo little company for her, but as time 
passed on she found a recompense for much 
rliat was dull and wearisome In the unvarying 
kindness of Mr. Kendall. He always bad a 
pleasant word for her when she passed his 
house, and more than once some ac¬ 
ceptable gift from his gardon, such as 
iSII strawberries or cherries, had found 
•,aH; their way into her bands. It was not 
f!H so much the gift t hat she valued as the 
• kindliness tout prompted it, and she 
began to deem tbe pi,tin face of Mr. 
dpi Kendall almost handsome. 
Mr. ICendale’s lundextondedalmost 
to tho school-houso, and one field un- 
der cultivation was within plain view 
from the windows. Evidently this piece 
L.IllSkv! of land received a great deal of care, 
for almost any lime when Norma look- 
tl-jJAiks ed out site could see him at work there. 
It was often a great comfort to her, for 
|| in that lonely school-room,so faraway 
8 ^1 from all dwellings, she would tome - 
% times have been hair afraid but for an 
V; occasional glimpse of Mr, Kendall as 
he worked within her sight. 
One afternoon NotoiA dismissed tho 
school, and having some matte.is to 
Sjfe&Bgfc i which she wished to attend, was de- 
p|lp j| talced a long tirno alter the children 
had gone. So busily was she at work 
that she did not notice how dark it was 
SKlMM l growing until she heard a low mutter- 
Ing of thunder. Looking from tho 
window she saw to her dismay that the 
Bky was thick with black clouds and a 
heavy shower was near at hand. It was 
the work of a moment to throw on her 
shawl and hat and grasp her dinner 
1||||$||| basket, but at the door she met Mr. 
||||w|j Kendall coming to see what had bt- 
cornu of her. 
||x|||||l “ You’ll not think of going home till 
ww the storm passes by, will you ?” he said. 
“1 thought. I would come and see if 
SttlSsmWi J ,(,u wouldn’t call at my house and wait 
fflSSlili' until it Is oyer. 1 hardly think it will 
M| last long.” 
Norma hesitated. “ Couldn't I pos- 
I B'bly got home, if I walk fast ?” she in¬ 
quired. “ 1 didn’t notice that a storm 
was coming up, I was so busy, and I'm 
afraid if I watt mother will bo fright¬ 
ened about me." 
“ But, I guess you will have to,” ho 
paid smiling down at her; and, sure 
enough, just as he spoke, the rain came 
down in torrents. “ 1 *ball have co beg 
your hospitality a whde, I'm straid, in¬ 
stead of your accepting mine," he add¬ 
ed, advancing Into the school-room. 
“ By all means; I’ll ti y to do the hon¬ 
ors to the best ot my ability,” said 
Norma, who was inwardly rnuoh re¬ 
lieved tobave aooropanion. for, though 
not. at all cowaroly, she could not have 
i helped feeling lonely to be there alone 
I through the storm. 
'Th® elements soon brake out in all 
the'r fury’. Wind, rain, hail and tbun- 
der made discordant sounds around 
yggg them, while the lightning almost blind. 
ed them with Us vivid dishes. 
SjaSEES) Norma had brought out the writing 
books to show to Mr. Kendall, but he 
had scarcely attempted to look at them 
before the terrific storm so closed 
around them as to attract their whole 
ME. KENDALL’S OFFICE, 
AND ONE OP IT3 CONSEQUENCES. 
BY CONTENT WHTPl’LE WALEY 
Edward Kendall was a bachelor almost 
forty yens of ago. Ho w.ab never a 
handsome man, and now 1 iIb once Jetty_ 
locks of hair were beginning to be foaige 
touched with silver, and around the ram 
grave, stern mouth were lines that iXjH 
might have been traced by care or SOT- Igfc 
ro.v. Yet he was noble-looking, tali K§| 
an 1 finely-formed, with features indie- 
alive of great force of character and 
eyes so keen that they seemed al- 
moat to read one’s thoughts at the first 
glance. 
Ho was a fnrnur in good etroum- ???*! 
stances, living in plain, unpretending 
style, with an old lady aged enough to |g3| 
bo his mother, his sole cornpauion and ^ 
housekeeper. 
He was not a favorite 
with his neighbors on account of his 
reticence and reserve, for there is no 
clas-s of people more social and fond of 
neighborly freedom than the farmers 
of New Eu&land. But they respected 
him, nevertheless, for Ills high moral 
principles and sound common sense, 
and as a man of property he received 
dererenco where he would not other¬ 
wise. 
Mr. Kendall was often appointed to 
cilice, both of Town aud State, and no 
or.e discharged such duties more faith¬ 
fully than he. At tho time of which we 
write he was occupying a position pe¬ 
culiarly distasteful to him, that or ex¬ 
amining committee and acting school 
visitor for the town. My readers will 
understand why this wss so embarrass¬ 
ing a position when f t. II them that In 
truth Mr. Kendall's reticence sprung 
almost wholly from basliUilneae, and. 
when It Is taken into account that the 
majority of the candidates for exami¬ 
nation were ladies — young, old and 
middle-aged—perhaps they will kindly 
sympathize with instead of blaming 
him. 
In his younger days Mr. Kendall 
had thought of marriage, as something 
that might come to him In the future, 
but he was sopsinfully bashful that he 
had never summoned courage to take 
the necessary steps toward such a con¬ 
summation, and tho older he grew the 
more distant seemed tbe prospect of 
matrimony. The unmarried ladies of 
that vicinity had long agopiven him up 
as one upon whom all their arts and 
fascinations would be lost; aud the 
dream which had once seemed so sweet 
to him—the dream of being a husband 
and father —bad faded until only a 
breath of the old sweetness lingered. 
He believed that he was destined to re¬ 
main a single man the rest of his life¬ 
time. 
It was early spring and Mr. Ken¬ 
dall's rural labors were often inter¬ 
rupted by candidates for examination, 
but whenever he was called in to ques¬ 
tion them his heart sunk like lead in 
his bosom. It would be hard to aay 
which most dreaded tbe ordeal—the 
youug, frightened schoolgirl makiug 
her first application for a certificate, or 
the calm and apparently self-possessed 
A. Home Picture tliat Requires neither Comment nor Description 
