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by its side and, calling one after an- 
other by name, bade each lay his or her 
hand on the bare surface of the stone 
where the ivy had been cut away and 
to make a wish. One looking on might 
have thought we were a band of se 
cret plotters taking the oath of allegi- 
ance on a tomb. It was no jesting mat- 
ter, I could see, for each one in that 
gay party approached the stone in si- 
lence and reverence. The only sound 
that broke the stillness was that of 
Miss Bllen’s voice as she called each 
name in turn. At last my name was 
®It behooves you to approach it rev- 
erently.” 
called, a little more gently than the 
others, I thought, and Miss Ellen, see- 
ing me approach, held up her hand and 
motioned me to stop. 
“And vow. Mr. Palmer,” I heard ber 
saying, “as a stranger to the wishing 
gtone it behooves you to approach it 
reverently. There is no reason to tell 
the others this, for they know the 
legend and its secret charms, but to 
you, who know it not and who come iis 
a stranger t it, tempt not its anger by 
deriding it, even in your thoughts, or 
its indifference by wishing for what 
ts impossibi: It was at this stone that 
my great-great-grandfather wished ivt 
his bride, and iv less than a fortnight 
they were wed. He enjoined his sons 
to seek this spot before wooing the wo- 
men of their choice, and it is a strange 
fatality that all our family who have 
not done so have gone to their graves 
NORTH SHORE BREEZE 
unloved old bachelors and the women 
who have derided it as old maids, Of 
later years it has become the custom 
for lovesick youths and maidens in the 
town and county to seek it out and test 
its charms, and many a happy home 
owes more than we may imagine to the 
legend whicb clings about this ivy col- 
ored dial. The moment has arrived 
when you can test its power too.” 
Already I had become a firm believer 
in the wishing stone. Laying my hand 
on it and looking into the lovely eyes 
of Ellen, | made my wish and added 
a prayer that it might find favor with 
the fates. After I had finished we 
joined hands again and made three 
circles around the stone. Then all be- 
gan to laugh, and some one started up 
the rollicking chorus of— 
"Tis love, ’tis love, 
*Tis love that makes the world go round. 
All joined in save Miss Ellen and me, 
for we strolled back somewhat slower 
than the others. 
“What did you wish?” I asked, but 
she only shook her head and said she 
eould not tell. 
“J wished that you”— I got no fur- 
ther, for she gave a startled cry that 
checked me before I could finish the 
sentence. 
“Don’t—oh, don’t!” she said. “You 
have already said too much. I ought 
to have told you not to tell your wish, 
for if you do the fates become perverse 
and mock you. If you even hint of 
what you have asked in secret some- 
thing will happen to mar its complete 
fulfillment. I am sorry you spoke 
about it at all,” and I thought her face 
grew a little paler. 
I dared not speak again, and we 
walked on in silence and joined the 
others in the old oaken dining room. 
Mr. Lamb asked the blessing, and the 
girls sat down, while the men waited 
on them and brought them supper. 
After a merry hour we danced again, 
and the incident of the wishing stone 
was soon forgotten in the frolic of the 
old Virginia reel. Miss Ellen led this 
old fashioned dance with me, and 
many a pretty ankle was displayed 
that night as toes were pointed and 
courtesies made, and many a little 
love scene, too, went on that night, 
but I was too busy with my own af- 
fairs to watch what others did. 
When the candles had burnt down 
to their sockets and Mr. Lamb said 
the band had struck, then began the 
good nights, which lasted for another 
half an hour. The wagons were 
brought round and the horses saddled, 
and soon the whole gay company start- 
ed like a cavaleade. Long after they 
had left we could hear them singing 
through the pines. 
Bud saddled his horse and rode out 
{nto the night to think of some young 
girl, I thought, but Miss Ellen said no; 
that sometimes when he became rest- 
less he would ride for hours and re- 
turn always with a_ brighter heart 
and more cheerfully take uD the bur- 
II 
ee 
den of his life again. . When 1! bade 
Miss Ellen good night on the landing I 
held the tips of her fingers for a mo- 
ment. 
“You are my queen tonight!” I cried 
earnestly. 
She let me raise her fingers to my 
lips and looked down at me in a sad, 
sweet way. Then, laughing softly and 
somehow. I felt, a little bitterly. she 
said: 
“Your queen of tonight will be your 
cook again tomorrow.” 
Before I could reach her side. for my 
impulse was to throw myself at her 
feet and pour out my love to her, she 
glided swiftly up the stairs. 
Within the next week I received a 
copy of the paper with my letter in it, 
prominently placed on the first page, 
and a note in the same mail from the 
editor congratulating me on the excel- 
lence of it. He told me to send one or 
two more from Georgia and then to 
push on and write up the bayou coun- 
ties in Louisiana. He liked the dia- 
logues and suggested that | give more 
interviews with the farmers. | rend 
my letter in print, and it again struck 
me that I had not made it clenr to my 
conservative readers that it was to the 
sons of the antebellum, slaveholding 
families that the south had to look for 
its regeneration and renewed prosper- 
ity; that it was this element which 
was rebuilding the fortunes in that 
section and not the few men from the 
north who hand gone there to invest 
money. If | dared to draw a picture 
of the Buds and the Ellens of the 
south how the people of the old com- 
monwealth would read the future of 
this sunny land and appreciate the 
struggle of its younger generation to 
overcome the obstacles which they had 
inherited in consequence of war: 
A fine sense of honor had kept me 
from making use of the life at the 
Pines as a basis for a letter, but I 
longed to handle the subject as I saw 
it and to make others see it through 
my eyes and appreciate its beauty. 
Shut in my room away from the influ- 
ence of Miss Ellen, of Bud and even 
ef the colonel. | argued that such a 
letter could do no harm and might in- 
duce to much good. | do not hide from 
myself ever now that there was with 
me a certain satisfaction in pleasing 
those in the home office, nor did I con- 
eceal from myself then the additional 
prestige such a letter might give me 
with my critics. The editor had com- 
plimented me on the first letter. What 
wrould he not do when he received one 
written with a pen guided by love and 
every word of it poured from the 
heart? If Miss Ellen loved me, I ar- 
gued. she wonld only rejoice with me 
pver my success, And then, too. she 
might not see it. This last thought 
brought a blusb to my cheek. and | 
started up. determined to show her 
my letter and tell ber what 1 contem- 
plated doing. 
\ [TO BE CONTINUED.] 
NT Se ee 
