a nation with its history yet before it, with only
its darkest and yet most glorious record traced indelibly on the annals
of the world. The New Year has come again, and Dorris, with her
spinning-wheel, is wondering what it will bring her. The door opens
suddenly, and some one announces, "Col. Endicott, Miss Gordon."

For a moment Dorris loses sight of everything but a tall figure in the
quaint Continental uniform, and only hears the old, light tones say,
"Will the fair Goddess of Liberty welcome the soldier as he comes back
from fighting his own battles, as she bade him?"

And Dorris, with a blush for the memory he recalls, bravely confesses
her fault and her gratitude, and ends very humbly, "Can you forgive me,
Col. Endicott?" stealing a look up at the grave face.

"Forgive you, dear child! Do you not know that I have loved you all the
time? Now that you know I am a little better than you thought me can you
trust me for the rest? Can you love me a little, sweet Dorris?"

There was no lightness now, only deep, loving tenderness; and Dorris
answered trustingly:--

"I have been waiting for my hero, and I have found him, Keith."

And there we will leave them, while the dancing fire-light shows us the
pretty scene beside Dorris's dear little spinning-wheel, and the silvery
beams of the rising moon bring to Dorris the beginning of a new and
happy life with the advent of a new year.

But ah, Great-grandmother Dorris, stately and demure in your lavender
brocade, and your feathered and powdered hair, do you know you were not
so very unlike the Dorrises of to-day, after all? And they have
spinning-wheels, too, with their flax tied with blue ribbons. And think
you that these wheels see no romances? Ah, but they can't _tell_ them,
you know, pretty Grandmother Dorris.

EDITOR'S TABLE.

It often happens that the worst effects of wrong-doing are visited upon
neither the criminal nor upon those who have suffered in person or
property by his crime. This fact is emphasized by the recent suicide of
a convict's wife, in one of our New England States, after having killed
her two children. This incident furnishes a dreadful commentary on the
condition of those dependent upon convicted criminals who are paying the
penalty of their crimes. For the convict there is abundant sympathy. As
the _St. Louis Globe Democrat_ well puts it, societies are organized for
the purpose of improving his mind, and cooking-clubs toil and perspi