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WHERE shall I wander, where upon the plain,
Who find not that for which my heart is fain,
Not one sweet meadow where the violets wake,

Nor any woodland bordering a lake?

Where shall I search upon the mountain-side,
Who cannot find the darlings of my pride-

The first arbutus hid beneath the snow,

The star-sown wind-flowers that I used to know,
The wintergreen, the little partridge-vine
Bright-berried yearly underneath the pine?
Where shall I turn, who can no longer see
The far blue hills familiar unto me-

The hills of summer and the hills of snow
Where great winds rise and driven clouds sweep low.
Too long my steps were taught New England ways,
Too long my eyes looked out upon those days

To find their comfort here. Here sorrow dwells,
And the wide future opens, dim and vast;

But there forever lie the olden spells,

The balm of childhood and my treasured past!

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HAT 'S all," said Mr. Parsons Scott. He waved his hand at the groom, directing him to take the horse which was loose in the paddock back to the stable.

"They are a good lot," observed Mr. Carteret. He had been putting in the morning inspecting Mr. Scott's hunters.

Parsons Scott had an office in town, at which an office-boy might sometimes be found. Scott's personal attention was devoted to the purchase, education, and sale of hunters. As a prudent grandparent had provided him with an income, he was able to live in the country with comfort and to maintain the town office and his horse business as well.

"I'm glad you like them," replied Scott, referring to Mr. Carteret's commendation of his horses. Carteret's opinion was able in this field.

"Yes," repeated Carteret; "they are a good lot. They are better than Harrington's and better than Brown's. But I really don't think there is anything that will do for me. As I told you, I want something like old Elevator-something that jumps exceptionally big and sure."

"The only other thing which I have is a mare that came yesterday from Canada," observed Scott. "I have n't had her out yet. I got her in a trade, and probably something is the matter with her; but they say she can jump. Bring out Isabella!" he called to the groom-"the new chestnut mare." "Did you give her that name?" inquired Mr. Carteret.

"No," said Scott; "I should n't name a horse Isabella."

"I did n't know," observed Mr. Carteret. "I thought you might be growing sentimental. It's a pretty name for a gentle mare." "Stuff!" said Scott.


Quite an animal," observed Mr. Carteret, as the mare trotted into the paddock. "Sporty-looking, is n't she? White blaze and stockings, and a piece out of her ear. She is uncommonly well made," he went on; "but her head is coarse, and she carries it too knowingly for a picture horse."

"Yes," said Scott. "I am sorry about the nick in her ear. It takes a hundred off her value. But she is a mare with a lot of character-the kind that can look out for herself and you, too."

Carteret nodded. "Turn her at the jump," he said to the groom. In the paddock there was a made jump, with wings, over which horses could be chased without a rider on their backs. The bars were about five feet high when Carteret spoke.

"That 's too high to start with," said Scott. "She is just off the car."

The groom, who had started to drive the horse, stopped.

"Let it down to four feet," Scott continued.

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I'm looking for something for a-" He hesitated. "I'm looking for a lady's hunter, and I want a natural big jumper, something that can't make a mistake. If this mare is only sound-"

"She is sound," Scott broke in. "I might as well tell you the truth, too. She is a perfect lady's hunter. I got her somewhat reasonably because she kicked a man's buggy to pieces. He was an idiot who left her tied in a village street in flytime. A traction-engine came past, and the buggy melted away. I should n't exactly guarantee her to drive, but you can see yourself she's gentle as a kitten. She's a perfect pet for a girl."

"I did n't say it was for a girl," observed Mr. Carteret.

Scott looked at him, but made no reply. He picked up a green apple that lay by the paddock fence and held it out to the mare. Isabella came forward promptly and took it. "Look!" he said. "She 'll eat out of your hand."

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Mr. Carteret, "there might be a springboard, or almost anything of that kind."

Scott paid no attention to the joke. He went over to Isabella, who fed on, undisturbed at his approach. Taking the saddle off, he looked for nail-points and objects of a sharp or lumpy nature. There was nothing there. Saddle and leather pad were in perfect repair.

You must have done something to her," said Scott. "I'll ride her myself." The groom acquiesced obediently. Scott mounted, and Isabella stood meekly till he was on and had both his feet home in the stirrups. "Now," he said, "I shall move her around the paddock, slowly at first."

He spoke to Isabella, telling her to "Get up"; and then, placidly and more in sorrow than in anger, the mare gave three bucks. The first was a large one, but Scott hung on. With the second, which was larger, he was on her withers. On the third buck she shook out all reefs and sent him crashing through the top board of the paddock

That is very affecting," said Mr. Car- fence. He landed outside, surprised but


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She will probably come around to driving in time," observed Scott. "Suppose we see her under saddle."

"I should like to see her under saddle," said Mr. Carteret.

Scott spoke to the groom, and he led Isabella into the stable. While they waited, the two sat on the top board of the paddock fence and discussed the question of price. "I think that mare," observed Scott, "is easily worth a thousand dollars. She'd bring that on her jumping alone, and-"

"But I tell you that 's too much," said Mr. Carteret; "my commission does n't authorize me to spend so much: and yet, I want the horse."

"I was about to say," continued Scott, 66 when you interrupted me, that on account of the buggy affair I would sell her for exactly-" He stopped. There was a clatter in the stable, and somersaulting through the air out of the doorway shot Scott's groom, followed by Isabella, who trotted to a spot where the grass was tender and began to graze.

Scott jumped down from the fence. "What have you got under that mare's saddle?" he bawled at the groom.

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"I have been to all the Wild West Shows," observed Mr. Carteret from the fence; "I think you have the best bucker I ever saw. Are you hurt?"

"I shall fix that mare," said Scott, gloomy with rage. He called to the man:


Bring out a harness-bridle with a checkrein, and some strong cord." He climbed back over the fence. "Look at her!" he said. The mare had gone back to the plot of, tender grass. The episode seemed to have stirred no evil passions in her.

"She certainly is a mare of character," observed Mr. Carteret, thoughtfully.

Scott watched her in silence until the groom came out with the bearing-rein and string; then he approached Isabella and proceeded to arrange the apparatus, and Isabella made no remonstrance. Do you see," said Scott, "how she can get her head down now?"

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"No," said Mr. Carteret, doubtfully. There was something in Isabella's resourceful calm which impressed him and made him uncertain of everything.

Scott mounted, and clucked to Isabella to start. Then a curious thing happened. She made no attempt to fight the bearingrein and buck. She lifted her fore legs and reared rather slowly until she was perpendicular.

"Look out! She 's going over!" said Mr. Carteret.

man, "that we are at the stables. Put another place at lunch, and make my excuses

As he spoke she dropped over on her for not going up to the house to meet him. back.

Scott had anticipated her action. He slid off before she came down, and rolled himself out of her way. He arose hastily, and, with such dignity as a man can command who has been rolling in the soil of his paddock, said to the groom, "You may take the mare to the stable." Then he climbed to the top of the paddock fence and sat down beside Carteret. "Carty," he said after a long silence, "I had always believed that a horse that was well checked up could n't rear."

Carteret tapped the fence boards thoughtfully with his ratan stick. "Old man,” he said, "as we go on in life we lose many of our young beliefs."

There was a long silence. Scott made no answer. "I think," he observed presently, "that a trap just now turned into the driveway."

They could see the house from where they sat, and they watched and waited. In a few moments they saw Williams, the indoor man, come out and hurry down the walk toward the stables.

"You might brush yourself," suggested Mr. Carteret. "A man who sells horses ought not to be found at his own stables with so much mud on the back of his coat." "Brush me," said Scott. "Who is it?" he called to the man as he approached. “Mr. Henderson Lamppie, sir," said the


Scott jumped down from the fence and twisted his mustache for a moment. "I don't think I can stand him to-day," he said, as if speaking to himself.

Mr. Carteret also came down from the fence. "Old man," he said, "I ought to be going."

Scott looked at him in surprise. "But you said you'd stop for lunch," he said plaintively, "and it is almost ready."

"I know," said Mr. Carteret ; " but I forgot about an appointment. I must hurry." "Carty," said Scott, "if you leave me alone with Henderson Lamppie, it never can be the same between us."

"Well," said Carteret, "if you put it that way, I shall have to stay; but I may not be very civil."

"You can be what you please," said Scott. "Tell Mr. Lamppie," he said to the

Carty," added Scott, after the man had gone, "what an odious little beast that fellow is!"

"The most odious," said Mr. Carteret.

Carty," said Scott, "don't you think it strange that a girl like Elizabeth Heminway should stand having him about? Those Dago diplomats are bad enough, but Lamppie is worse."

"That thought has occurred to me," said Mr. Carteret.

"Carty," said Scott, "I feel that we ought to do something to save Elizabeth Heminway. One of us ought to marry her."

Carteret laughed softly. "That thought, too, has occurred to me," he said; "but not the part of it which introduces you."

"Well, ride up, then," said Scott. "Go out in front. I'll give you the panel first.”

"It is foolish," said Carteret, slowly, "to ride for a fall when you know the landing is hard."

"Falls be hanged!" said Scott. "If white men like you are going to funk, probably some Dago or Chinee will marry her, or Lamppie."

"Very probably," said Mr. Carteret. "It is apt to be that way."

"Well, something ought to be done," said Scott.

That 's true," said Carteret. "We might begin by murdering Lamppie," suggested Scott.

"Why not put him on Isabella?" said Mr. Carteret. "It's more lawful."

"That might be better," said Scott. "He's coming."

Carteret glanced at the approaching figure, and then looked gravely at a mud-puddle about fifty feet beyond the paddock fence. "Do you think," he said, "that she could buck him over the fence into that?"

"I think she could," said Scott; "but probably she would n't: she 's too contrary."

"Probably not," said Mr. Carteret, with a sigh.

"Hallo, you chaps!" called out Mr. Lamppie, when he came within hearing distance. "I say, Scotty, have you got a good one for me? I'm in a hurry, and can't look the string over, but I want the best you've got-something that can take care of himself."

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