ld thrill.'

"Franklin came and stood before us with his hands Upon our shoulders,
his face shining with happiness. "'Margaret, a woman needs something
to hold on to in this slippery world,' said he. 'Here is a man that
stands as firm as an oak tree.'

"He kissed us as did Lady Hare, also, and then we all sat down together
and laughed. I would not forget, if I could, that we had to wipe our
eyes. No, my life has not been all blood and iron.

"Would you not call it a wonder that we had kept the sacred fire which
had been kindled in our hearts, so long before, and our faith in each
other? It is because we were both of a steadfast breed of folk--the
English--trained to cling to the things that are worth while. Once
they think they are right how hard it is to turn them aside! Let us
never forget that some of the best of our traits have come from England.

"Suddenly Solomon arrived. Of course where Solomon is one would expect
solecisms. They were not wanting. I had not tried to prepare him for
the ordeal. Solomon is bound to be himself wherever he is, am why not?
There is no better man living.

"'You're as purty as a golden robin,' he said to Margaret, shaking her
hand in his big one.

"He was not so much put out as I thought he would be. I never saw a
gentler man with women. As hard as iron in a fight there has always
been a curious veil of chivalry in the old scout. He stood and joked
with the girl, in his odd fashion, and set us all laughing. Margaret
and her mother enjoyed his talk and spoke of it, often, after that.

"'Wal, Mis Hare,' he said to Her Ladyship, 'if ye graft this 'ere
sprout on yer fam'ly tree I'll bet ye a pint o' powder an' a fish hook
ye won't never be sorry fer it.'

"It did not seem to occur to him that there were those to whom a pint
of powder and a fish hook would be no great temptation."

2

"I dressed and went to dine with the Hares that evening. They lived in
a large house on a fashionable 'road' as certain, of the streets were
called. It was a typical upper class, English home. There were many
fine old things in it but no bright colors, nothing to dazzle or
astonish; you like the wooden Indian in war-paint and feathers and the
stuffed bear and high colored rugs in the parlor of Mr. Gosport in
Philadelphia. Every piece of furniture was like the quiet, still
footed servants who came and went making the smallest possible demand
upon your attention.

"I was shown