the road showed through the naked trees. His keen old eyes were able to discern every object that passed this open space, and in many cases to recognize pedestrian or vehicle. Presently, with a sidelong glance, he again. began a conversation. "There ain't a funeral in the neighborhood, is there, Debby?" "Not that I knows of." "I thought I hedn't heerd o' nobody bein' dead," he remarked amicably; "but layin' here, I don't know what happens. What made me think so. was seein' so many wagons. I've counted ten in a half an hour." "There's ben a good many passin' here ter day." "Goin' ter Fremont?" Again there was silence. Debby finished the skirt, and began to run up some sheets, and Caleb had a nap. He had just opened his eyes, when there came a knock on the bedroom door. "Come in!" Caleb cried, sitting up eagerly. The young minister opened the door. "What!" he exclaimed, "still in bed! Why, I thought you were up long ago!" "Still in bed," Caleb answered, shaking hands. "Set down. I'm glad ter see you. Debby, git him a rockin' chair." With a flushed face, Deborah turned toward the parlor door, - but the minister stopped her. "Don't let me trouble you, Mrs. Ballard," he said. "I'll take this old patriarch here in the corner. A hundred years old, isn't it? I thought so. My grandfather down in Maine has its brother. I suppose you will be buying new things now." "New things? What for? Ain't the old ones good enough?" demanded Caleb. "I meant for the wedding, of course." "Oh, for the weddin'! Wal, I s'pose Sallie an' Reuben would be fools enough ter try ter fix up; but, preacher, the old man holds the purse strings. There ain't never ben no change made in the place sence my gran'ther's day. Debby hes ben worryin' me an' worryin' me for forty years ter paint, you know what women be, but she'll hev ter worry forty years longer." "Exactly." The young minister laughed. "But, perhaps, now that you are so fine, you'll want to keep it up. I declare it was a great surprise. I looked up from the lower road, and I said, 'Can that be the old Ballard place! I really didn't know before what a fine situation you had." "I don't understand," Caleb said with a bewildered look and putting a hand to his ear. "I'm a little deef." It was seldom he acknowledged his failing. "I said the new paint made your house stand out from the lower road. I think all Fremont must be driving by to see it. I met a dozen teams. It looks very well, Mrs. Ballard." "My house painted?" The question was a roar. "Painted! I should think so. And the barn and granary. Why, is it possible you didn't know?" "Oh, you woman!" Caleb screamed, darting a look at his wife, under which she cowered. "This is what hes ben goin' on, is it? This is what sweepin' rooms an' stitchin' meant, is it? Oh, jest let me" and he made a sudden dart from the bed, while his wife sunk fainting. The minister put out his strong arm and caught him. "That is enough, Mr. Ballard," he declared sternly. "How dare you disgrace your manhood? Your wife has cost you a little paint; but what have you cost her? Do you realize, man, the anxious hours she has passed this winter, the sleepless nights spent in brooding over your supposed sickness? Any one who saw her in the fall, and sees her now, can guess at what her life has been. She is nearer the grave than you are." He towered over the old man in in dignant wrath. Caleb burst into tears. "She isn't dead," he cried wildly, throwing his arms about her. "I never meant it, sir; I never meant it! I'm an old fool, but I love my wife. Debby, Debby!" The minister lifted Mrs. Ballard tenderly onto the bed. "Hush!" he said. "Bring that glass of water from the table, and I will bathe her head." Caleb clung to her with effusive affection, as she came to. "If I get you your clothes, Mr. Ballard," the minister exclaimed, "perhaps you would like to come out and stop the painting." "I should like my clothes," Caleb answered, sheepishly,-"but let them go on with the paintin'. Debby wants the house painted, — an' she shall hev what she wants." "A praiseworthy resolution! It is a pity it did not occur to you forty years ago." Ten minutes later the minister climbed into his buggy. A smile was still on his face, but as he drove away he grew grave. "A wife," he murmured, "who for forty years has stood bravely by her husband's side, and given him love and duty, the best of her life and heart! And she had asked that little thing on which her simple mind was. set an indulgence that could have been given for fifteen dollars and at last obtaining it by fraud, she, naturally the soul of honor! I wonder if women marrying such fellows think what marriage means 'In sickness and in health - till death do us part.' It's a large contract." He was silent a moment, and then he gave a sigh. "I hope Sallie will be happy," he said aloud, and drove on. Back at the Ballard farm, the eight men were singing as they kept painting on in the spring sunshine. THE HORIZON. By Mary Laura Mason. T is as if we stood on some vast shore Of one great sea. And waiting there, we send We mark some distant line that seems the end. His vision: all the Ocean lies beyond. Illustrated chiefly from photographs by S. P. R. Triscott, William Claus and sketches by Frank Myrick. N days long gone by a party of English explorers set sail for the shores of the New World. Prevented by head winds from reaching the particular point of their destination and driven by the pressing need of wood and water, they turned their ship's prow to the north and approached what is now the upper New England coast. It was near evening of a late spring day; and as the good ship sped on her untried way the watchers aboard saw appearing out of the depth of the distance ahead a bit of land. Fearing to sail on to an unknown shore at night, they stood off, and early the next morning again turned their vessel's bow to the land of the evening before. As they drew closer in, the dim mass began to take shape; and sailing around to the north they found it to be a bold and rocky island, far out at sea, and very fair to look upon. One of the party, he who chronicled the event, deeply grateful for deliverance from the perils of stormy ocean and treacherous shore, and greatly refreshed by the sight of the beautiful isle of green and gray, gave impulsive utterance to his feelings in the words: It is "but an island of some six miles in compass, but I hope the most fortunate ever yet discovered." It may be that this ardent expression reflected the thought of the whole company. The massive pile of land and rock. that was hailed with so much delight by those wind-stayed and needy ancient mariners is known to-day as Monhegan, - the La Nef and La Tortue of Champlain, the St. George of Weymouth, the Barties of John Smith, and the Southack of later days. While this "bold-to" isle of a rugged clime may not be "the most fortunate ever yet discovered;" while it does not possess the political significance of a Corsica, nor the religious meaning of an Iona, nor the soft air, rare herbage, rich fruitage, and class Like more ambitious history the chronicles of Monhegan divide themselves into periods. Up to 1605 is the period when navigators, from the Cabots to Champlain, came upon the coast, sailed by the island, looking admiringly upon its rugged beauty, no doubt, but left no mention of landing. The authentic history of this "keystone of New England," begins in 1605, from which time down to 1619 is the period of the first visitations and initiation of industrial activities. About noon of Saturday, May 18, 1605, an Englishman, Captain George Weymouth by name, commanding the good ship Archangel, dropped anchor half way between Monhegan and the group of islands now known as "the Georges." Some hours after, accompanied by twelve of his crew, he went ashore upon the former for the purpose of making observations and replenishing his supply of wood. After a short stay the party returned THE MAIL BOAT. 7 to the ship with the plenteous fruits of their visit, and the next day sailed their vessel to a safer anchorage among the islands nearer to the main. This is the first recorded visit of Europeans to Monhegan. Rosier, the narrator of Weymouth's voyage, says by way of brief description of the place: "This island is woody, grown with fir, birch, oak, and beech, as far as we saw along the shore, and so likely to be within. On the verge grow gooseberries, strawberries, wild pears and wild rose bushes. The water issued other fish in which the waters were reported to abound. In his deeply interesting "General History of New England" he says: "In the month of April, 1614, with two ships from London, I chanced to arrive at Monhegan, an isle of America in 43° 4' of northeasterly latitude." Again, speaking of the mountains, headlands and islands of the new coast and their remarkable adaptability to service as landmarks for explorers, he says of Monhegan: It "is a round high isle, and close by it Monanis, be forth down the rocky cliffs in many places; and much fowl of divers kinds breed upon the shore and rocks." Following the visit of Weymouth, many navigators and adventurers stopped at the island during this period, some for a rendezvous, others for fishing and fur-trading, while a few established there the base of their operations for exploring expeditions along the coast. Among the last was the famous Captain John Smith, who sought the North Atlantic region for gold and whales. Failing these, he intended to load his ship with cod and twixt which is a small harbor where we rid." Later on, while writing eloquently to his countrymen to try their fortunes in this promising land on the main despite its newness and strangeness, he alludes to the fertility of New England soil and asserts, by way of illustration: "I made a garden upon the top of a rocky isle in three and forty degrees and a half, four leagues from the main, in May, that grew so well that it served for sallets in June and July." It is more than probable that this reference is to Monhegan. Although Weymouth made the first |