The Windsor chairs and side-table were scoured clean and white; through the open door of the buttery was seen a dresser in perfect order, even to the row of shining, but, alas, too often empty milk-pans, turned up under the lower shelf, and the bread-bowl, covered by a clean towel. The looking-glass between the windows, surmounted by curious carving and gilding, and the tall peacocks' feathers, the thin legs of the table at which they sat, indeed nearly every thing in the room were old friends of Mrs. Gilman's childhood. The house and farm had been her father's homestead, and she an only child. She often said she was too thankful that she did not have to go off among strangers, as so many young girls did when they were married, for she knew every rock and tree on the farm. Here she had been married, here her children were born, and here she hoped to die.

"Sam won't be home in time to milk, I' don't believe," observed Abby, the oldest girl, reaching her plate for a second supply of bannock. "He's always out of the way when he's wanted, seems to me."

"I don't know," "mother" answered goodna

turedly. "I think he's worked most hard enough all day to earn a good long play-spell. Sam's getting very handy, father. He fixed the wellsweep after dinner as well as you could have done it yourself. So after he'd brought in the wood, and gone to the store, I let him go over to Deacon Chase's. I thought you'd have no objection."

Mr. Gilman was home too little to know much about his children's movements, but his wife always kept up a show of authority for him, that he might be respected at home at least. Abby had found time for another theme. "Mother, I should think you might let Hannah and me have some new hoods. Julia Chase has got an elegant one, lined with pink silk, and a new merino cloak. And there's Anne Merrill and Jane Price. I'm sure we're as good as any body; ain't we, father?" for Abby, being her father's favorite, was always sure of a hearing from him.

"So you are, Abby-every bit, and you shall ride over their heads yet. I tell you what, mother; I can't stand this much longer; I don't see why you shouldn't have your silks and satins

as well as Eliza Merrill, and Hannah go to boarding school if she wants to, when she's old enough. I've about made up my mind to go to California -there-and there's the end of it!" and the excited man struck his knife upon the table so that every dish rattled.

Mrs. Gilman looked up with an anxious, questioning face. She was afraid that he had been drinking after all, and her hopes of a quiet evening, "like old times," vanished. Hannah ceased to wonder absently what would have became of the Swiss Family Robinson, if it had not been for their mother's wonderful bag, out of which every thing came precisely at the moment it was needed. Abby improved the opportunity to help herself to an extra quantity of “apple butter," unobserved. Abby certainly had a strong fancy for all the good things of life, dainties and new hoods included.

"Why, what on earth has put that into your head, father ?" Mrs. Gilman said, after a moment, still addressing him by the familiar household name, at first so endearing and afterwards habitual. She did not think it possible he could have any serious thoughts of such a scheme,