ost Hempfield!_"

I can scarcely describe how I was affected by these changes; but I
should have realized that any man bold enough to hitch his wagon to a
star must prepare himself for a swift course through the skies, and not
take it amiss if he collides occasionally with the heavenly bodies.

I think it was secretly amusing to Harriet during the weeks that
followed my first great visit to the printing-office to watch the
eagerness with which I awaited the postman on the publication days of
the _Star_. I even went out sometimes to meet him, and took the paper
from his hand. I have been a devoted reader of books these many years,
but I think I have never read anything with sharper interest than I now
began to read the _Star_. I picked out the various items, editorials,
reading notices, and the like, and said to myself: "That's the old
Captain's pungent pen," or "Anthy must have written that," or "I warrant
the Scotchman, Fergus, had a finger in _that_ pie." As I read the
editorials I could fairly see the old Captain at his littered desk, the
cat rubbing against his leg, the canary singing in the cage above him,
and his head bent low as he wrote. And I was disturbed beyond measure by
the signs of an unknown hand at work upon the _Star_.

"I thought, David, you did not care for country newspapers," said my
sister.

She wore that comfortably superior smile which becomes her so well. The
fact is, she _is_ superior.

"Well," said I, "you may talk all you like about Browning and
Carlyle----"

"I have not," said my sister, "referred to Browning or Carlyle."

"You may talk all you like"--I disdained her pointed interruption--"but
for downright human nature here in the country, give me the Hempfield
_Star_."

Once during these weeks I paid a short obligatory visit to the
printing-office, and gave Anthy the name of my uncle in California and
got the envelopes that had been printed for me. I also took in a number
of paragraphs relating to affairs in our neighbourhood, and told Anthy
(only I did not call her Anthy then) that if agreeable I would
contribute occasionally to the _Star_. She seemed exceedingly grateful,
and I liked her better than ever.

I also had a characteristic exchange with Fergus, in which, as usual, I
came off worsted. In those troublous days Fergus was the toiling Atlas
upon whose wiry shoulders rested the full weight of that heavenly body.
He set most of the type, distributed it again, made up the f