bers of her husband's family and
desired to exhibit them to the friends and relatives of the Clays.

* * * * *

As the train drew near Harlan, winding in and out along the river and
the foothills of Pine Mountain, Mary nestled close to John and, dreamily
watching the big mountain, whose shadow was reflected in the deep pools
of the river, said:

"I no longer call to you through space, John, wondering if you hear. Now
we travel side by side our narrow, little way of life and read its
meaning in each other's eyes. We will soon be home, John; and I for one
am glad we are to live in the mountains. I love them more than plain, or
rolling pasture, or woodland, or the sea. One of my favorite poems is:

"'Thou art a mountain stately and serene,
Rising majestic o'er each earthly thing,
And I a lake that 'round thy feet do cling,
Kissing thy garment's hem, unknown, unseen.
I tremble when the tempests darkly screen
Thy face from mine. I smile when sunbeams fling
Their bright arms 'round thee. When the blue heavens lean
Upon thy breast, I thrill with bliss, O king!
Thou canst not stoop--we are too far apart;
I may not climb to reach thy mighty heart;
Low at thy feet I am content to be.
But wouldst thou know how great thou art,
Bend thy proud head, my mountain love, and see
How all thy glories shine again in me.'"

"Will your mother be glad to see me, John? Will she fear I shall steal
too much of her boy's love?"

"Mary, mother is a little, old woman with a wonderfully big, young heart
and a grand soul filled with tenderness and grace and love. There's not
a joy in all the world she would not share with you. When she shares
your sorrows, night changes quickly to the dusk of morning and as the
day comes they flit away like shadows on the dewy grass. When she sees
you she will kiss you and cry a bit and call you 'John's wife' for a day
and then it will be 'Mary dear.' Were you a stranger, whose name had
never been mentioned, she would take you in, first for my sake, then
love you for your own. One day I said: 'Mother, your aim in life seems
to be to live for and wait on me.' 'No, John, my aim in life is to live
like Him!' She has kept some of earth's clay out of my soul."

As the train pulled into the station, Mary surreptitiously powdered her
nose. Mrs. Cornwall, Mrs. Neal, Duffield and several othe