Well, Miss Meechim wanted to see the Goblin tapestry, so we visited the Goblin manufactory. These tapestries are perfectly beautiful, fourteen thousand shades of wool are used in their construction. What would Sister Sylvester Bobbett say? She thought the colors in her new rag carpet went ahead of anything, and she didn’t have more’n fourteen at the outside, besides black and but-nut color. But fourteen thousand colors––the idee!

Yes, we rid through the marvellously beautiful streets under triumphal arches and more warlike ones and visited all the most beautiful sights in the city and the adjacent country, and who do you spoze I met as I walked along in the Bois de Boulogne? It wuz the Princess Ulaly. The rest of our party wuz some little distance off and I wuz santerin’ along charmed with the beauty about me when who should I meet face to face but Ulaly. Yes, it wuz Ulaly Infanty.

I wuz highly tickled, for I considered her a likely young woman and sot store by her when I met her to home at the World’s Fair. She knowed me in a minute and seemed as glad to see me as I wuz her, and I sez to her most the first thing after the compliments wuz passed, “Who would have thought, Ulaly, when we parted in Chicago, U. S., that the next time we should meet would be in Paris?”

“Yes, indeed!” sez she, “who would have thought it.” And I went on to say, for I see she looked real deprested:

“Ulaly, things hain’t come out as I wanted ’em to; I felt real bad about it after your folks sold their jewelry to help discover us. I dare presume to say they have been sorry 307 time and agin that they ever found us, and I wouldn’t blame ’em, for as Josiah sez to me:

“‘Where would we be to-day if it hadn’t been for Columbus? Like enough we shouldn’t been discovered at all.’ Sez he, ‘Most probable we should be Injins.’ But don’t lay it to Josiah or me, Ulaly, we hain’t to blame, we didn’t do a thing to bring on the trouble. Of course we remembered the Maine some, we had to, and your folks couldn’t blame us for it. Josiah and me felt real provoked and mortified to think that after folks had gin their jewelry to discover us they should blow us up in that way. But I sez to Josiah, ‘Because three hundred are sent onprepared into eternity it hain’t no reason three thousand should be.’ We are great cases for peace, Josiah and I be, and would have managed most any way, even been run on some and imposed upon a little ruther than to have rushed into the onspeakable horrors of war.

“And I don’t want you to blame William, either; he held onto the dogs of war with both hands a tryin’ to hold ’em in.”

“William?” sez she inquirin’ly.

“Yes, William McKinley, our President. He jest held onto them dogs till they wuz likely to tear him to pieces, then he had to leggo. Them dogs wuz jest inflamed by havin’ yellow literatoor shook in their faces, and yells from greedy politicians and time servers, till they wuz howlin’ mad and would have barked themselves blind if he hadn’t leggo. But he didn’t want to, William didn’t, he wanted peace dreadfully.” And she said real sweet, that she knew he did.

“Well, it turned out jest as it did, Ulaly. But I think just as much of you as I did before you lost your propputy, and I d’no as the propputy Uncle Sam got hold of in the dicker is a goin’ to do him much good, not for quite a spell anyway. There is such a thing as bein’ land poor, taxes are heavy, hired help hain’t to be relied on and the more you have the more you have to watch and take care on, though of course it is a pleasure to a certain set of faculties and 308 some particular bumps in your head, to own a path as you may say, most round the world, steppin’ off from California to Hawaii and then on to the Philippines, ready to step off from there, Heaven knows how fur or when or where. It is a pleasure to a certain part of your mind, but other parts of your head and heart hold back and don’t cheer in the procession. But howsumever, Ulaly, that is neither here nor there. I hope your folks are so as to git round. I wuz sorry enough to hear that you and your pardner don’t live agreeable. But though it is a pity, pardners have had spats from Eden to Chicago and I d’no but they always will. The trouble is they take pardners as boons instead of dispensations, and don’t lean hard enough on scripter.

“But this is not the time or place for sermons on how to be happy, though married. How is Christina and Alfonso? I’m afraid he’s gittin’ obstropolous, and I d’no but Christina will have to give him a good spankin’ before she gits through. Of course, spankin’ a king seems quite a big job to tackle, and of course he’s pretty old for it. But it don’t do to let children have their heads too much. One good spankin’ will strike in truth when reams of sermons and tearful expostulations will fail. You might just mention to Christina what I’ve said, and then she can do as she wants to with fear and tremblin’.”

But I see my folks passin’ down a distant path, and I sez: “I will now bid you adoo, Ulaly, as time and Arvilly and Josiah are passin’ away.” She bid me a real pleasant good-by, and I withdrawed myself and jined my folks.

One day the hull of our party visited Fontainbleu and went through the apartments of kings and queens and popes and cardinals. The rooms of Napoleon wuz full of the thrilling interest that great leader always rousted up, and always will, I spoze, till history’s pages are torn up and destroyed. And in the rooms of Marie Antoinette we see the lovely costly things gin to this beautiful queen when the people loved her, and she, as she slept under the beautiful draperies gin by 309 the people, never dreamed, I spoze, that the hands that wrought love and admiration into these fabrics would turn on her and rend her.

But Marie didn’t do right. Carelessness, oppression, neglect of the people’s rights, a few grasping the wealth of the nation while the people suffer and starve, weave bloody colors into the warp and woof of life from Paris to New York and Washington, D. C., and so on to Jonesville. And we went through the apartments of Louis Philippe, Francis I., Louis XIII., etc., and Madam Maintenon’s apartments and Diana de Poyter’s, and seen her monogram decorating the apartment interwoven with the king’s. I hated to see it, but couldn’t do nothin’ to break it up at this late day. Miss Meechim walked through these apartments with her nose in the air, having sent Dorothy into the garden with Robert Strong and Tommy, and Arvilly wouldn’t cross the thresholt, and I didn’t blame her, though havin’ my lawful pardner by my side I ventered.

But Arvilly led off into the beautiful gardens, where we found her settin’ with Robert Strong and Dorothy and Tommy by the fountain.

We wanted to explore the forests of Fontainbleu, but only had time for a short drive through it, but found it most picturesque and beautiful what we see of it.

Bein’ such a case for freedom, Arvilly wanted to see the Column of July riz up on the site of the old prison of the Bastile. And I did, too. I felt considerable interested in this prison, havin’ seen the great key that used to lock up the prisoners at Mount Vernon––a present to our own George Washington from that brave Frenchman and lover of liberty, Lafayette.

A brave man held in lovin’ remembrance by our country, and I spoze always will be, as witness his noble statute gin by our school children to France this present year. That his statute and G. Washington’s should be gin to France by America, and that Josiah Allen’s wife and Josiah should 310 also be permitted to adorn their shores simeltaneous and to once, what a proud hour for France! Well might she put her best foot forrerd and act happy and hilarious!

But to resoom: The last afternoon of our stay in Paris, Arvilly and I went to see the Column of July, accompanied by my pardner, Miss Meechim and Dorothy havin’ gone to a matinÉe, and Robert Strong havin’ took Tommy with him to see some interestin’ sight. And I had a large number of emotions as we stood there and thought of all the horrows that had took place there, and see way up on top of the lofty column the Genius of Liberty holdin’ in one hand the broken chains of captives and holdin’ up in her other hand the torch of liberty.

But I methought to myself she’s got to be careful, Liberty has, or that torch will light up more’n she wants it to. Liberty is sometimes spelt license in France and in our own country, but they don’ mean the same thing, no, indeed! We hung round there in that vicinity seein’ the different sights, and Josiah took it in his head that we should take our supper outdoors; he said he thought it would be real romantic, and I shouldn’t wonder if it wuz. ’Tennyrate, that is one of the sights of Paris to see the gayly dressed throngs happy as kings and queens, seemin’ly eatin’ outdoors. Lights shinin’ over ’em, gay talk and laughter and music sparklin’ about ’em.

Well, Josiah enjoyed the eppisode exceedingly, but it made it ruther late when we started back to the tarven through the brightly lighted streets and anon into a more deserted and quiet one, and on one of these last named we see a man, white-headed and bent in figger, walkin’ along before us, who seemed to be actin’ dretful queer. He would walk along for quite a spell, payin’ no attention to anybody seemin’ly, when all at once he would dart up clost to some young girl, and look sharp at her, and then slink back agin into his old gait.

Thinkses I is he crazy or is he some old fool that’s love 311 sick. But his actions didn’t seem to belong to either of the classes named. And finally right under a lamp post he stopped to foller with his eager eyes a graceful, slim young figger that turned down a cross street and we come face to face with him.

It wuz Elder Wessel––it wuz the figger I had seen at the morgue––but, oh, the change that had come over the poor creeter! Hair, white as snow; form, bowed down; wan, haggard face; eyes sunken; lookin’ at us with melancholy sombry gaze that didn’t seem to see anything. Josiah stepped up and held out his hand, and sez: “Elder, I’m glad to see you, how do you do? You don’t look very rugged.”

He didn’t notice Josiah’s hand no more than if it wuz moonshine. He looked at us with cold, onsmilin’, onseein’, mean, some like them same moonbeams fallin’ down on dark, troubled waters, and I hearn him mutter:

“I thought I had found her! Where is Lucia?” sez he.

The tears run down my face onbeknown to me, for oh the hunted, haunted look he wore! He wuz a portly, handsome man when we see him last, with red cheeks, iron-gray hair and whiskers and tall, erect figger. Now he had the look of a man who had kep’ stiddy company with Death, Disgrace, Agony and Fear––kep’ company with ’em so long that he wuz a stranger to anybody and everybody else.

He hurried away, sayin’ agin in them same heart-breakin’ axents: “Where is Lucia?”

Arvilly turned round and looked after him as he shambled off.

“Poor creeter!” sez she. Her keen eyes wuz full of tears, and I knowed she would never stir him up agin with the sharp harrer of her irony and sarcasm if she had ever so good a chance. Josiah took out his bandanna and blowed his nose hard. He’s tender-hearted. We knowed sunthin’ how he felt; wuzn’t we all, Dorothy, Miss Meechim, Arvilly, Robert Strong, Josiah and I always, always looking out for a dear little form that had been wrenched out of our arms and 312 hearts, not by death, no, by fur worse than death, by the two licensed Terrors whose black dretful shadders fall on every home in our land, dogs the steps of our best beloved ready to tear ’em away from Love and from Safety and Happiness.

From Paris we went to Berne. I hearn Josiah tellin’ Tommy: “It is called Burn, I spoze, because it got burnt down a number of times.”

But it hain’t so. It wuz named from Baren (bears), of which more anon. Robert Strong had been there, and he wanted Dorothy to see the scenery, which he said was sublime. Among the highest points of the Bernise Alps and the Jungfrau and the Matterhorn, which latter peak is from twelve to fourteen thousand feet high. Good land! What if I had to climb it! But I hadn’t, and took comfort in the thought. Deep, beautiful valleys are also in the Oberland, as the southern part of the Canton is called, the Plain of Interlaken being one of the most beautiful.

There are several railways that centre in Berne, and it stands at the crossroads to France and Germany. And though it is a Swiss city, it seemed much more like a German one, so Robert Strong said. The people, the signs, the streets, the hotels and all, he said, was far more like a German city than a Swiss one.

It is quite a handsome city of about fifty thousand inhabitants, with straight, wide streets and handsome houses, and one thing I liked first-rate, a little creek called the Gassel, has been made to run into the city, so little rivulets of water flow through some of the streets, and it supplies the fountains so they spray up in a noble way.

Josiah sez: “If Ury and I can turn the creek, Samantha, so it will run through the dooryard, you shall have a fountain right under your winder. Ury and I can rig up a statter for it out of stuns and mortar that will look first-rate. And I spoze,” sez he, “the Jonesvillians would love to see my linimen sculped on it, and it might be a comfort to you, if I should be took first.”

“No, Josiah,” sez I, “not if you and Ury made it; it would only add to my agony.”

We had quite a good hotel. But I see the hired girl had made a mistake in makin’ up the bed. Mebby she wuz absent minded or lovesick; ’tennyrate she had put the feather bed top of us instead of under us.

As Josiah laid down under it he said words I wouldn’t have had Elder Minkley heard for a dollar bill, and it didn’t nigh cover his feet anyway. What to do I didn’t know, for it wuz late and I spozed the woman of the house had gone to bed and I didn’t want to roust her up. And I knew anyway it would mortify her dretfully to have her help make such a mistake. Good land! if Philury should do such a thing I should feel like a fool. So I had Josiah git up, still talkin’ language onfit for a deacon and a perfessor, and I put the bed where it belonged, spread the sheets over it smooth, put my warm woollen shawl and our railway rug on it and made a splendid bed.

The food wuz quite good, though sassage and cheese wuz too much in evidence, and beer and pipes and bears. I always kinder spleened aginst bears and wuz afraid on ’em and wouldn’t take one for a present, but it beat all how much they seem to think of bears there, namin’ the place for ’em to start with, and they have bears carved and painted on most everything. Bears spout water out of their mouths in the fountains, they have dead ones in their museums, and they have a big bear den down by the river where great live ones can growl and act all they want to. And bears show off in a wonderful clock tower they have built way back in the ’leventh century. I never see Tommy so delighted with anything hardly as he wuz with that, and Josiah too. Every hour a procession of bears come out, led, I believe, by a rooster who claps his wings and crows, and then they walk round a old man with a hour glass who strikes the hour on a bell. But the bears lead the programmy and bow and strut round and act.

The manufactures of Berne are mostly cloth, silk and cotton, straw hats, etc. It has a great university with seventy-three professors. Good land! if each one on ’em knowed a little and would teach it they ort to keep a first-rate school.

And it also uses a Referendum. Arvilly disputed me when I spoke on’t; she thought it wuz sunthin’ agin ’em, but it hain’t. It helps the people. If they don’t like a law after it passes the legislature they have a chance to vote on it. And it keeps ’em from bein’ fooled by politicians and dishonest statesmen. I approve on’t and Arvilly did when she got more acquainted with the idee. I wish America would get hold of one, and I guess she will when she gits round to it, though Arvilly don’t believe they will. Sez she: “Our statesmen ruther spend their time votin’ on the length of women’s hat-pins, and discuss what a peril they are to manhood.” Sez she: “Why don’t they vote agin men’s suspenders? Everybody knows a man could hang a woman with ’em, hang ’em right up on the bed post.” Sez Arvilly: “Why not vote that men shall fasten their trousers to their vests with hook and eyes, they are so much less dangerous?” But I don’t spoze they ever will. It is a job to fasten your skirt to your waist with ’em. But they are real safe and I wish men would adopt ’em. But don’t spoze they will, they hate to be bothered so.

Another thing I liked first-rate there and Arvilly did, the corporation of the city is so rich it furnishes fuel for its citizens free. Arvilly sez:

“Catch the rich corporations of our American cities furnishin’ fuel for even the poorest. No; it would let ’em burn up their old chairs or bedsteads first, or freeze.”

“Well,” sez I, “mebby our country will take pattern of the best of all other countries when she gits round to it; she’s been pretty busy lately.”

And Arvilly sez, “She had better hurry up before her poor are all starved or friz; but as it is,” sez she, “her statesmen are votin’ on wimmen’s hat-pins whilst Justice lays flat 315 with her stillyards on top of her and Pity and Mercy have wep’ themselves sick.”

America is good, her charities are almost boundless, but I think some as Arvilly that Charity hain’t so likely lookin’ or actin’ as Justice, and Robert Strong thinks so too. But it is a great problem what to do for the best in this case. Mebby Solomon knew enough to grapple with the question, but Josiah don’t, nor Arvilly, though she thinks she duz. Robert Strong is gittin’ one answer to the hard conundrum of life, and Ernest White is figurin’ it out successful. And lots of other good and earnest souls all over the world are workin’ away at the sum with their own slates and pencils. But oh, the time is long! One needs the patience of the Sphinx to set and see it go on, to labor and to wait. But God knows the answer to the problem; in His own good time He will reveal it, as the reward of constant labor, tireless patience, trust and prayer. But to resoom forwards: One of the picturesque features of the older part of Berne is that the houses are built up on an arcade under which runs a footpath.

But its great feature is the enchantin’ seenery. It stands on a peninsula and the view on mountain and river is most beautiful.

From Berne we went direct to the city of Milan in Italy. And we found that it wuz a beautiful city eight or nine milds round, I should judge, with very handsome houses, the cathedral bein’ the cap sheaf. I’d had a picture on’t on my settin’ room wall for years, framed with pine cones and had spent hours, I spoze, from first to last lookin’ at it, but hadn’t no more idee of its size and beauty than a Hottentot has of ice water and soap stuns.

From every point of view it is perfect, front side, back side, outside and inside; specially beautiful are the gorgeous stained glass winders in the altar.

Robert Strong and Dorothy and all the rest of the party but Josiah and me and Tommy clumb up to the biggest tower, three hundred and thirty or forty feet, and they said 316 the view from there wuz sublime and you couldn’t realize the beauty of the cathedral until you saw it from that place where you seemed to stand in a forest of beautifully carved white marble. But I sez to ’em, “I can believe every word you say without provin’ it.”

I never could have stood it to clumb so high, but they said you could see way off the Appenines, the Alps, Mont Blanc, the Matterhorn, a wonderful view. The cathedral is full of monuments to kings and queens and saints and high church dignitaries. Its carving, statuary, fret work is beyend description. It is said to be the most beautiful in the world and I shouldn’t wonder, ’tennyrate it goes fur, fur beyend the M. E. meetin’-house in Jonesville or Zoar or Loontown.

Milan has beautiful picture galleries, and Miss Meechim and Arvilly and I wuz restin’ in one one day, for we wuz tired out sightseein’, when a young man and woman swep’ by, both on ’em with glasses stuck in their eyes, richly dressed and she covered with jewels, and their wuz a maid carryin’ wraps and a cushion, and a man carryin’ two camp-chairs, and a tall, slim tutor follerin’ with a little boy.

I d’no as the Queen of Sheba and Mr. Sheba could have travelled with any more pomp if they had took it into their heads to come to Jonesville the Fourth of July. They didn’t seem to be payin’ any attention to the pictures, though they wuz perfectly beautiful. There wuz a group of titled people that had been pinted out to us, and their eyes wuz glued on them, and they seemed to be kinder followin’ ’em round. They gin Miss Meechim a cool, patronizin’ nod as they went by, and she gurgled and overflowed with joy over it.

She said they wuz the Mudd-Weakdews, of Sacramento, Rev. Mr Weakdew’s only child, and they wuz on their way home from Paris; he had married Augusta Mudd, a millionairess. “They are so exclusive, so genteel!” sez Miss Meechim, “they will not associate with anybody but the very first. He wuz a college mate of Robert’s and so different from him,” sez she.

“Yes,” sez I, in a real dry tone, “I spoze he is, he looks different anyway.”

“He is engaged in the same occupation Robert is,” sez Miss Meechim, “and he would no more do as Robert does than he would fly. He keeps his workmen down in their place. Now Robert sells them land at a cheap rate and encourages a building association amongst the workmen, so most all of them own their own houses and gardens, and they cultivate fruits and flowers, making their homes look more like a genteel, wealthy person’s than a laborer’s; it makes them independent as you please, heads right up, lookin’ you right in the face, as if they wuz your equals. Mudd-Weakdew don’t let them own an inch of land; they live in tenements that he owns and they pay high rents. The houses are laborers’ rooms, not genteel and comfortable as their employer’s. He says that he makes as much out of the rent of these houses as he does from his factory, for I must say that Robert’s workmen do more work and better. But the Mudd-Weakdews live like a prince on a broad, tree-shaded avenue with a long row of tenement houses on the alley back of it, separated from the poor, and what I consider a genteel, proper way.

“Of course his workmen complain that they do all the work and he lives in a palace and they in a hovel, that he is burdened with luxuries and is hoarding up millions, whilst they labor through their half-starved lives and have the workhouse to look forward to. So unreasonable! How can the poor expect the genteel pleasures of the wealthy, and when their houses are low and old and the walls mouldy and streets narrow and filthy and no gardens, and ten or fifteen in one room, they ought not to expect the comfort and pure air of four people in one great house set in a park. But such people can’t reason.”

“Who is the fourth?” sez I coldly, for I despised her idees.

“They have a little girl older than Augustus and very 318 different from him. Little Augustus is naturally very aristocratic and they encourage him to look down on the tenement children and be sharp to them, for they know that he will have to take the reins in his hands and control rebellious workmen just as his pa does now, and conquer them just as you would a ugly horse or dog.”

“How is the little girl different?” sez I in cold, icy axents.

“Oh, she is a perfect beauty, older than Augustus and at boarding-school now. She is the idol of their hearts––even the workmen love her, she is so gentle and sweet. Her parents adore her and expect that she will unite them to the nobility, for she is as beautiful as an angel.

“Little Augustus was terribly frightened just before we sailed, his grand-pa told me; one of them impudent workmen who had been sick and out of work for a spell rushed up to little Augustus, who was feeding cakes to his pony and Italian greyhound, and demanded him to give him some. The man’s fierce looks was such that Augustus dropped the cakes and ran away to his tutor. The man had the impudence to pick up the pieces and rush away with them, muttering that his own boy was dying for want of food, while this boy was throwing it away. What business was it to him, I would like to know. The man was turned off, I believe. Mudd-Weakdew will stand no impudence; he builds up a wall of separation between himself and them that can’t be broke down, just as he has a right to.”

Sez I, “Mebby it can’t be broke down, but the wrongs and sufferin’s of one class is apt to react on the other.”

“But it cannot here,” sez she, “for Mudd-Weakdew is not like Robert, mingling with his workmen, breaking down the wall of separation, that always has and I believe always should exist between the genteel wealthy and the poor.”

“Well,” sez I, “time will tell.” And she went on.

“You ought to see the elegance of their house, thirty house servants and Robert has only two; and won’t let them 319 be called servants; he calls them helpers. Oh, they are so genteel! they mingle with the very first, and Robert might do just so, but he actually seems happier amongst his workmen trying to make them happier than he does with the titled aristocracy. Mudd-Weakdew would no more mingle with his workmen as Robert does, than he would fly.”

I murmured onbeknown to myself, “The poor received Him gladly;” “Except ye do these things ye cannot be my disciples.” And I sez to Miss Meechim, “How would the Mudd-Weakdews receive the carpenter’s Son if he should stop at their gate some afternoon while they wuz givin’ a garden party to nobility. If Jesus should enter there with his chosen companions, the fishermen and the poor, all dusty from weary walks and barefooted; if he should look through their luxury to the squalid homes beyend with reproach and sorrow in his divine face, how would they greet him?”

Miss Meechim said she didn’t really know, they wuz so very, very exclusive, but she felt that they would act genteel anyway. “And,” sez she, “they worship in a magnificent church built by millionaires and used by them almost exclusively, for of course poor people wouldn’t feel at home there amongst the aristocracy.”

But Arvilly said––I guess she had to say it––“Yes, they kneel and worship the Christ they crucified while they tromple on his teachings; hypocrites and Pharisees, the hull caboodle on ’em, Rev. Weakdew and all!” I d’no but Arvilly wuz too hash, but mebby my groans spoke as loud as her words; I felt considerable as she did and she knowed it.

“Oh! oh!” Miss Meechim fairly squeeled the words out, “Rev. Weakdew is very thoughtful and charitable to the poor always. I have wept to hear him tell of their home above, right in with the rich you know, mingling with them; I have heard him say it, exclusive as he and his family is, and how after starvation here how sweet the bread of life would seem to them.”

“In my opinion,” sez Arvilly, “he better spend his 320 strength tryin’ to feed ’em on earth; when they git to that country the Lord can take care on ’em.”

“Oh, he always has a collection taken up for the poor, Christmas and Easter, and his congregation is very charitable and give largely in alms and make suppers for the poor, Christmas, almost as good as the wealthy enjoy.”

Sez Arvilly, “You can’t put out the ragin’ fires of a volcano with a waterin’ pot; it will keep belchin’ out for all of that little drizzle; that seethin’ kaldron of fire and ashes would have to be cleaned out and the hull lay of the land changed in order to stop it. What good duz it do to scatter a few loaves of bread to the hungry while the Liquor Power and the mills of Monopoly are grindin’ out hundreds and thousands of tramps and paupers every year?”

Sez Miss Meechim, “the poor ye shall always have with you.”

“We don’t read,” sez Arvilly, “of Martha Washington having to feed tramps nor labor riots and strikers in the time of Jefferson. No, it wuz when our republic begun to copy the sampler of old nations’ luxury, aristocracy and enormous wealth for the few and poverty and starvation for the many. Copyin’ the old feudal barons and thieves who used to swoop down on weaker communities and steal all their possessions, only they gained by force what is gained now by corrupt legislation. Anybody would think,” sez Arvilly, “that as many times as that sampler has been soaked in blood, and riddled by bullets, our country wouldn’t want to foller it, but they do down to the smallest stitch on’t and how can they hope to escape their fate? They can’t!” sez Arvilly.

“But,” I sez, “they can’t unless they turn right round in their tracts. But I am a good deal in hopes they will,” sez I; “I am hopin’ that Uncle Sam will foller my advice and the advice of other wellwishers of the human race––I see signs on’t.”

“Well,” sez Arvilly, “you have fursightener specs than I have, if you can see it.”

And I sez, “You lay your ear to the ground, Arvilly, and you’ll hear the sound of a great approachin’ army. It is the ranks of the Workers for Humanity with voice and pen, with wealth and influence, the haters of hate, lovers of love, breakers of shams and cruelties in creeds, political and social life and customs. Destroyers of unjust laws, true helpers of the poor. It is them that try to foller Christ’s mission and give liberty to the bound, sight to the blind. That great throng is growin’ larger, every hour, the stiddy, stiddy tromplin’ of their feet sounds nearer and nearer.” And I sez in a rapt way, “Whilst you are listenin’ to ’em, Arvilly, listen, upward and you’ll hear the sound of wings beatin’ the air. The faint music, not of warlike bugles, but the sweet song of Peace. It comes nigher, it is the white winged cohort of angels comin’ down to jine the workers for humanity and lead ’em to victory, and their song is jest the same they sung when Christ the Reformer wuz born, ‘Peace on earth, goodwill to men.’”

Sez Miss Meechim, “I guess you hear the crowd on the avenue going home, and it is really time to go; it would not look genteel to stay longer.”

I looked at her, and through her, and smiled a deep forgivin’ smile for I thought she wuz a foreigner, how could she understand.