was the only grass in the world fit for the dainty Jersey cow
to eat.

There were comforts and conveniences on the Tomlinson Place not dreamed
of in the old days, and I think there was substantial happiness there
too. Trunion himself was a wholesome man, a man full of honest
affection, hearty laughter, and hard work--a breezy, companionable,
energetic man. There was something boyish, unaffected, and winsome in
his manners; and I can easily understand why Judge Addison Tomlinson, in
his old age, insisted on astonishing his family and his guests by
exclaiming: "Where's Trunion?" Certainly he was a man to think about and
inquire after.

I have rarely seen a lovelier woman than his wife, and I think her
happiness helped to make her so. She had inherited a certain degree of
cold stateliness from her ancestors; but her experience after the war,
and Trunion's unaffected ways, had acted as powerful correctives, and
there was nothing in the shape of indifference or haughtiness to mar her
singular beauty.

As for Mrs. Tomlinson--the habit is still strong in me to call her
Harriet Bledsoe--I think that in her secret soul she had an
ineradicable contempt for Trunion's extraordinary business energy. I
think his "push and vim," as the phrase goes, shocked her sense of
propriety to a far greater extent than she would have been willing to
admit. But she had little time to think of these matters; for she had
taken possession of her grandson, Master Addison Tomlinson Trunion, and
was absorbed in his wild and boisterous ways, as grandmothers will be.
This boy, a brave and manly little fellow, had Trunion's temper, but he
had inherited the Tomlinson air. It became him well, too, and I think
Trunion was proud of it.

"I am glad," said I, in parting, "that I have seen Aunt Fountain's
Prisoner."

"Ah!" said he, looking at his wife, who smiled and blushed, "that was
during the war. Since then I have been a Prisoner of Peace."

I do not know what industrial theories Trunion has impressed on his
neighborhood by this time; but he gave me a practical illustration of
the fact that one may be a Yankee and a Southerner too, simply by being
a large-hearted, whole-souled American.

TROUBLE ON LOST MOUNTAIN

THERE is no doubt that when Miss Babe Hightower stepped out on the
porch, just after sunrise one fine morning in the spring of 1876, she
had the opportunity of enjoying a scene as beautiful as any that nature
offers to the human e