CHAPTER XIV.
FINALE.
Through the open casement of a small, white cottage in the village of P----, the rays of the September moon are stealing, disclosing to view a gray-haired man, whose placid face still shows marks of long years of dissipation.

Affectionately he caresses the black, curly head which is resting on his knee, and softly he says, "Lenora, my daughter, there are, I trust, years of happiness in store for us both." "I hope it may be so," was the answer, "but there is no promise of many days to any save those who honor their father and mother.

This last I have never done, though many, many times have I repented of it, and I begin to be assured that we may be happy yet." * * * * * Away to the westward, over many miles of woodland, valley, and hill, the same September moon shines upon the white walls of the "homestead," where sits the owner, Walter Hamilton, gazing first upon his wife and then upon the tiny treasure which lies sleeping upon her lap.
"We are very happy, Katy darling," he says, and the affection which looks from her large blue eyes as she lifts them to his face is a sufficient answer.

Margaret, too, is there, and though but an hour ago her tears were falling upon the grass-grown graves where slept her father and mother, the gentle Carrie, and golden-haired Willie, they are all gone now, and she responds to her brother's words, "Yes, Walter, we are very happy." * * * * * In the basement below the candle is burned to its socket, and as the last ray flickers up, illuminating for a moment the room, and then leaving it in darkness, Aunt Polly Pepper starts from her evening nap, and as if continuing her dream mutters "Yes this is pleasant and something like living." * * * * * And so with the moonlight and starlight falling upon the old homestead, and the sunlight of love falling upon the hearts of its inmates, we bid them adieu.
RICE CORNER.