wo of our young women who had successively found
favor in his sight had failed to please his mother and sisters, and
Eustace was said to be watching and waiting for one upon whom all could
agree, though every one but Eustace himself knew this was an utterly
hopeless vigil. Meantime the mother and sisters looked up to him,
guarding him jealously from corrupting associations, saw that he wore
his overshoes when clouds lowered, and knitted him chest protectors,
gloves, and pulse warmers which he was not allowed to forget. He taught
the Bible Class in the Presbyterian Sabbath school, sang bass in the
choir, and, on occasion, gave an excellent entertainment with his magic
lantern, with views of the Holy Land, which he explained with a running
fire of comment both instructive and entertaining.

The Eubanks home that evening was said by a subsequent _Argus_ to have
been "ablaze with lights" and "its handsome and spacious parlors
thronged with the elite of the town who had gathered to do honor to the
noted guest of the evening."

There first occurred a piano duet, rendered expertly by the two younger
Misses Eubanks, "Listen to the Mocking Bird," with some bewildering
variations of an imitative value, done by the Miss Eubanks seated at the
right.

Then the front parlor was darkened and, after the consequent tittering
among the younger set had died away, Eustace threw his pictures upon a
hanging sheet and delivered his agreeable lecture about them, beginning
with the exciting trip from Jaffa to Jerusalem. Most of those present
had enjoyed the privilege of this lecture enough times to know what
picture was coming next and what Eustace would say about it. But it was
thought graceful now, considering the presence of a stranger, to
simulate the expectancy of the uninformed, and to emit little gasps of
astonished delight when Eustace would say, "Passing from the city gates,
we next come upon a view that is well worthy a moment of our attention."

With the lights up again, a small flask of water from the river Jordan
was handed about, to be examined, by those who knew it too well, in the
same loyal spirit of curiosity. A guest would hold it reverently a
moment, then glance up in search of some one to whom it might be
heartily extended.

This over, the elder Miss Eubanks--Marcella of the severe mien--sang
interestingly, "I gathered Shells upon the Shore," and for an encore, in
response to eager demands, "Comin' thro' the Rye." Not