THE STILLNESS WHICH FOLLOWED.

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CHAPTER XXX.

Thou com'st to use thy tongue: thy story quickly.-SHAKSPEARE.

TIME went his way as quietly as if he had been about child's play, and his rough wind seemed to have left no trace. Except indeed the stillness which followed that sweep through the house, and the afternoon dress of its mistress. All the

morning she went about her usual work in her usual working trim-sunbonnet and all; but the toil of the day once ended, and all sign of it cleared away,-Mrs. Hopper arrayed herself in deep black, with much more particularity and regard to appearances than she was wont to use. The rest of the afternoon was devoted to spinning, and to grave conversation with Martha or Miss Clyde, or with any neighbour that might chance to come in.

There Rosalie would find her, when she went out into the kitchen towards tea time to see if Jabin had gone to the post-office and had come back; the big wheel whirring round, the spindle throwing off its long fine thread, with now and then a break and now and then an added roll.

'Mrs. Hopper, has Jabin gone to the post-office?' 'Haint thought a word o' the post since morning, Miss Rosalie. Jerusha, go see.'

And Rosalie would come and stand with folded hands before the fire.

'What's the good of expectin' letters all the time?' said Mrs. Hopper running down the long thread of yarn with skilful fingers.

'Not much good,' said Rosalie.

and so I expect it.'

'One ought to come,

Things oughtn't to come till they do,' said Mrs. Hopper. 'No-that is true, in the large sense.'

"'Taint worth while to take small sense,' said Mrs. Hopper,—just as well have plenty while you're about it.'

'There's no letters,' said Jerusha returning. 'Jabin saw Mr. Squill himself, and there warnt but two letters come this morning at all—the bag hadn't nothing else into it; and one o' them was his'n, and 'tother was for the minister.' 'Feel disappointed?' said Mrs. Hopper.

'Yes-somewhat.'

'No need,' said her hostess. No news is always good news -firstrate. And you couldn't hope for one o' the letters, when there come but two.'

And Mrs. Hopper spun her wheel round and round with a degree of spirit that seemed to say she was speaking her mind with some force to somebody.

Rosalie thought she could not hope for letters much longer; and in that mood she sat with Hulda at breakfast next morning; giving wistful glances now and then at the bright fire which tempered the cool air within, and the bright sunlight which did the same work without. The night had been frosty, and long streaks of white lay upon the fields instead of shadows between the sunbeams.

'Miss Rosalie,' said Martha presenting herself with hot toast, 'Jabin wants to know if he 'll go to the post-office this noon afore he comes home, or if night 'll do ?'

'How is your foot, Martha ?'

'Here,' said Miss Jumps,-large as life, if 'taint no larger.'

'Could you walk so far without hurting it?'

'Guess I could,' said Miss Jumps. Wouldn't like to say what it might do on its own account.'

Rosalie looked out of the window again, and quickly resolved that she would be her own bearer of despatches. 'I will go myself, Martha.'

'Afoot?' said Martha. Or will you take Stamp Act along for company?'

'O I will ride of course, unless they want the horse on the farm.'

'Can't have him if they do,' said Martha.

'He's be

or will be just as soon as I can come at the back

'Stay Martha !' Rosalie called, 'I will go and see about it myself.' And taking Hulda, she went forth to where Jabin was splitting pine knots for Mrs. Hopper's spinning light.

He readily undertook to catch the horse, or at least to try; for Stamp Act was disporting himself in the adjoining meadow with colts and horses of every degree. Jabin however took an old rusty pan of salt and a bridle, and went off; and Rosalie and Hulda stood still to see the fun.

Now it was apparent that the bridle in some degree nullified the salt, for though the horses stretched out their heads and snuffed and neighed and walked about Jabin, till he was quite surrounded; none but the younger ones who had never been caught would approach his offered handful. Jabin whistled and tried all manner of blandishments and conjurations—shook the salt pan and handed out the salt; and the horses looked, and walked round and took up a new position and then looked.

''Taint no sort o' use to try 'em here,' Jabin called out. 'If Jerushy and Martha 'll come out and help I'll drive 'em into the barnyard.'

Jerusha and Martha came accordingly, the one to run and the other to stand; for while Martha was to watch at a particular turn of the road and head them off, Jerusha took stand behind her on the chip yard to guard a large expanse

of ground between the garden and the barn, in case the first barrier should prove insufficient.

Meantime Jabin had let down the bars, and having gone to the end of the field was now slowly driving the horses before him. Their pace quickened however as they came out into the road and perceived that the barnyard was their destination; and passing that with a scornful toss of her head, the leader, a beautiful black mare, trotted on towards Martha. Here was a pause, the road was narrow, the barn on one side, the fence on the other, and Martha with her big stick displayed in front. The horses turned and walked back there was Jabin with his bridle. There was a moment's consultation, the horses putting their heads together but as Jabin began to draw near, the black mare raised her head and with a loud neigh charged down upon Martha, plunging forward, with tail thrown out and mane tossed upon the wind, and hoofs beating a rapid and sounding gallop. Martha gave way, and on went the whole drove. The black one first, flinging out her heels as she passed, then a grey colt, then a fine roan, then Stamp Act and Lord North in an overplus of glee, then another black, a bay colt, a sorrel, and so on until seventeen were passed,— after which came a rolling cloud and silence.

'That's what you call kicking up a dust,' said Martha, as Jabin followed in the train of the horses.

""Taint what I call a stoppin' it,' said Jabin, who looked very hot and dusty with running and calling Whoa. "If Jerushy don't stop 'em they may run!'

The horses had clustered at the top of the hill before Jerusha's sunbonnet and were again in doubt. Then the black leader wheeled and charged down hill, the whole troop following; but this time into the barnyard,-for with Martha and Jerusha uniting their forces, the array of sticks was too imposing, and the horses submitted to superior force.

It was early yet when Rosalie set forth, and the frost was scarce off the ground; it crisped and cracked beneath Stamp's feet, who probably liked his exemption from farm duty or felt exhilarated with the stampede, for he went along at a good pace.

There was great beauty abroad that morning. The Indian corn fast ripening for the garner, the bright yellow pumpkins gleaming out beneath,-the stubble fields with their grazing flocks of sheep,-the green meadows spotted with cattle, or with a drove of horses grouped about some great tree, buckwheat and flax in a state of ripening perfection, and the light of plenty and peace upon everything. The brooks had filled up since the summer droughts, and tumbled and murmured along-the only murmur that is not complaining,—the mills were busy—the road filled from time to time with the great farm wagons and their o'ertopping loads of grain. In such a case Rosalie and Stamp turned out, and took no more of the road than its flowery edge, and no more of the grain than a mouthful. Stamp was pretty sure to get that by some adroit turn of his head. The fall flowers were beautiful by the way side— and when not strictly beautiful very showy. Tall elecampane and golden rod among the yellows, and yarrow and everlasting for the whites; with cardinal flower and blue gentian and pink-tinted snake root. In the boggy places where the brooks now and then spread out and stayed their swift course, tufts of green rushes waved gracefully in the fall wind, and immense green bullfrogs splashed down into the water at the first sound of Stamp's feet.

At every house might be seen marigolds and balm and feverfew in full glory; with now and then a drooping cranberry, loaded with scarlet fruit; and at every back door were strings of drying apples, and sieves of 'sweet corn'