well of him and stand by the institution you represent.' I think if I were working for a man, I would work for him all of the time, not a part of the time. I would give him an undivided service or none. If put to a pinch, an ounce of loyalty is worth a pound of cleverness. If you are inclined to vilify, condemn and eternally disparage, why, resign your position and when you are outside damn away to your heart's content. But I pray you, so long as you are a part of an institution do not condemn it. Not that you will injure the institution-not that. When you disparage the concern of which you are a part you disparage yourself."

With this statement the interview between father and son had ended. Silently they walked home together, each understanding the feeling of the other. Mute eloquence is frequently most forcible. Life to some is a comedy. To others it is a tragedy. The cheerfully inclined, musical geniuses, right living young men and women both may make of their lives a sweet oratorio of sacred song if they will.

That his son would give a proper and satisfactory account of himself in the new home and life of the city was already a settled fact in the mind of the father.

CHAPTER VI.

As Ephraim stepped upon the platform of the passenger coach attached at the rear end of the train, he stood in deep meditation until the winding roadbed obscured all view of the little band of faithful admirers, waving an affectionate adieu. "God be with my boy" whispered the mother as she struggled to keep back the tears. There was a look of suppressed regret on the part of the usual quota of villagers who stood around and gazed at the proceedings. They belonged to the "old guard" or Chair Warmers League of The Glen; arcient and honorable members of the "Sit Tight and Let Things Drift" association. Every rural community has such illustrious Sons of Rest-down-lifters'' of regretable propensities and doubtful benefit. Men who stand aimlessly, waiting for something to turn up, until they have idled away the golden opportunity, and something of no particular importance to any one except themselves does turn up their toes.

The concensus of opinion, in whatever language expressed by this contingent, was that old Adamson should have required his only son to remain at home and succeed to the business and identify himself with the enterprises the father had established. The self appointed regulators of village affairs, whose numbers were fast growing fewer and ranks thinning as one after another they slipped over the drop and rode out upon the unknown ocean, could not in the mist of their own experience or within the limits of their vision, see a future for any one outside The Glen. The flight of years with them had winged a way well on to the end of the trail, but they were still at the post of assumed duty; "on the job" with unsolicited advice regarding personal affairs of others. They belong to that class

of acquaintances who drop in upon you at the most inopportune time, interrupt private business or conversations and otherwise behave as if they have a private claim on your attention. Necessary nuisances are proverbial. No town or hamlet has an exclusive syndicate of this nature. These autophonal harpers on the virtues and beauties of "God's Own Country," as exemplified at The Glen, shook their heads knowingly, as Ephraim checked the last piece of baggage for transportation, thus conveying weighty expressions of doubt regarding the advisability of the choice made by him. While all faiths are the same in death, all places in life were not recognized by the villagers as the same, and love, patriotism and home pride in their judgment should enlist the activities of their fellow townsmen at home, even if they hibernated at least six months of the year. Their idea of thrift and progress was to live off the city folk three months of the year and off each other, as best they could, the rest of the time. They were Berserkers only in the sense that they were "Northmen" None of the active spirit of the fiery Norsemen accentuated their vocations.

A young man in deep thought, with quiet demeanor, was with Annabelle just ahead of the father and mother as they walked back to the Adamson homestead that eventful September day.

Samuel McPherson had grown up with the young people of the Adamson family. He had good manners, an amiable disposition, and most exemplary habits. Studious, he bent all his energies to acquire the limit of education obtainable, first in the country school at home, and later in the academy at Johnsville, a few miles distant. He was the chum of Ephraim, escort of the Adamsons' daughter on frequent occasions, and naturally a welcome visitor, or more correctly speaking, an almost daily part of their household circle. No

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word of affection had ever passed beween Samuel and Annabelle, albeit there was tenderness in the treatment of each by the other. Whatever plans they had for the future, immature years prevented them discussing, and their thoughts, if serious, were kept to themselves. Most persons who have attained middle age, or longer days look with indifference or small consideration upon the feelings of youth. Homer speaks of the preliminary period as "forever dear, forever kind." Another descriptive writer says: "The glory of young men is their strength; and the beauty of old men is the hoary head." The fact remains, that this young couple were living in the atmosphere of youthful intoxication which sc often creates a fever of heart awakening. It is not necessarily the spoken word, the oral plight that leads to betrothal. A condition of constant association; the invisible tie of destiny which attaches to each, the Leart beat of boy and girl; the dependence for happiness on the little attentions one cares to receive and the other to bestow; all these traits and conditions mold our sentiments in the form of love.

A reverence as great as that described by Juvenal was paid Samuel by Anabelle. She applauded his noble, manly effort to acquire an education calculated to assist him in making the most of such opportunities as might later come to him. Womanhood and manhood had come to them in such circumstances as had surrounded their lives from the days of earliest recollection. Samuel and Ephraim had drawn Annabelle to school upon a crude hand sleigh during the winter months, when she was of tender age, vieing with each other in attention and in their efforts to minister to her comforts. During the spring and autumn the trio had leisurely trodden the short-cut footpath that led from the school house to their respective homes. The music of the birds, the whispering tones of the arch

ing trees, the song of the on-rushing brooks, all lent a charm to the environment. High, mountain high, had their aspirations grown while their eyes beheld the giandeur, the colorings and shadows of the lofty peaks, which surrounded them on every side.

Ephraim had gone away. Samuel and Annabelle remained. Somehow it seemed different now. It was indeed different.