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24 "11 IE THE
The Family
THE MILLER OF THE DEE.
There dwelt a miller, hale and bold,
Beside the River^Dee;
He wrought and sang from morn till
night,
No lark more blithe than he;
And this the burden of his song
I'UICin U3CT1 tu ue,
"I envy no man, no, not I,
And no one envies me!"
"Thou'rt wrong, my friend!" said old
King Hal,
"As wrong as wrong can be;
For could my heart be light as thine,
I'd gladly change with thee,
And tell me now what makes thee sing
With voice so loud and free,
While I am sad, though I'm the King.
Beside the River Dee?"
The miller smiled and doffed his cap:
"I earn my bread," quoth he;
"I iove my wife, I love my friend, ,
I love mv fhildrpn throo
I owe no one I cannot pay,
I thank the River Dee,
That turns the mill that grinds the corn.
To feed my baibes and me!"
"Good friend," said Hal, and sighed the
while,
"Farewell! and happy be:
But say no more, if thou'sdt be true.
That no one envies thee,
Thy mealy oap is worth my crown;
Thy mill my kingdom's fee!
Such men as thou are England's boast.
Oh, miller of the Dee!"
"A BEAUTIFUL THING."
By Mary Hoge Wardlow.
"Not afford it? You know he can
afford it1 I wouldn't try to be charitable,
Luzanne, at the cost of my verac
ity."
"Nor of my reputation for good sense/'
added another girl. "The idea of a man
in his position economizing on his sweetheart's
engagement ring! If there's one
thing I abhor beyond another it is stinginess.
And Kate feels the same way,
uvii t juu, rvutc i
"I should say so," was the emphatic
rejoinder of the first speaker. "I used
to admire him so much, but he's killed
himself with me. Everybody is talking
about it, and pitying poor Frances."
"She doesn't look like a candidate for
pity,*' maintained Luzanne, mildly. "Her
eyes have such a deep, satisfied expression.
I am 'sure she understood the
reason, and approves it."
"I heard," said a fourth girl, "that
some one tried to approach her mother
about it, and Mrs. Maynard intimated
that this simple little ring was Frances's
preference. Of course she would wish
to convey that impression."
"Of course," echoed all the girlB except
Luzanne.
The entire village of Cedarvale had
taken to heart the plainness of Frances
Maynard's engagement ring. Oscar
Elliott, the rising young professor from
a big university had aroused great interest
in the little community, and its
i
r r
I PRESBYTERIAN OF THE SOU!
inhabitants were elated that he had
chosen a Cedarvale girl for his bride.
Frances had not lived there many year3.
it is true, but she was much beloved and
admired. Her manners were marked,
however, by a gentle dignity that set her
somewhat apart from the gay circle who
had been intimates from girlhood. Kate
Bowen, the most daring of the set. had
declared her intention of sifting to the
bottom the history of the "miserly en-,
gagement ring," and the scoffing provoked
by this announcement spurred her
on to make the experiment. Her pretty
expression ot* good wishes was received
so cordially that she ventured further.
"And what a lovely pearl! But, do you
know, we thought you would be wearing
a superb solitaire, cr a half-hoop of diamonds,
or something priceless?and?
regal,?like yourself. We girls all
thought so."
"Did you"? smiled Frances.
"And I felt ashamed of myself, girls,"
Kate confessed afterwards. "If you
could have seen the sweetness of that
smile?if you could have heard her voice,
so good-humored, almost caressing, with,
maybe, just the faintest hint of amusement
in it, you would have realized, as
I did. that she was miles and miles above
our sillv chatter In general nn,1 mv lt.1
pertinence in particular. Why girls, she
was?she was?absolutely unassailable."
As Kate was not in the habit of using
such lofty-language the girls, were pro
foundlv impressed, anu Frances was permitted
to wear her pearl in peace.
A few months later Professor Elliott
carried her to the large town where his
work lay, and here Frances found an
environment which formed a decided contrast
to the friendly little village of
Cedarville. The claims of society were
heavy, but she did not allow them to
monopolize her time. She searched out
the poor and the afflicted, and became a
welcome guest in many a home where
poverty had set its seal. Although kind
to those who were frankly and Drofes
slonally poor, her principal ministrations
were addressed to that pathetic class
who had "seen better days." Poor, much
abused expression, so often applied in
ridicule, yet those who deserve it arc
usually the ones who shrink from having
their needs suspected^ the very ones,
too, who by inheritance and training are
least fitted to endure the toil and privations
which are their present portion.
There was Mrs. Marsden, for instance,
whose husband had not long survived
his failure in business. She and her
daughter had met the situation bravely,
and for a while had been fairly successful.
They had saved from the wreck a
little cottage on the edge of town, where
they raised chickens, and cultivated a
small garden. Mrs. Marsden filled
orders for beaten biscuit and chickensalad*,
and Gertie made cake and confectionery.
The ladies of this university
town entertained freely, and often on
very short notice; hence there was a
steady demand for their delicacies, anil
they were able, by close economy to
achieve that domestic triumph familiarly
known as "making both ends meet." The
students kept Gertie so busy that she
meditated employing an assistant
But the overturning of a sauce pan
of boiling sugar had overturned Gertie's
plans; her right wrist would be disabled
?H. June 9, 1909.
for several months, and she was utterly
helpless.
Frances Elliott had been out of town
when the accident occurred. She catne
back to find changes, and to guess at
(lifllciilties, in the little cottage She had
also come back in quest of a home for
a, little widow, almost a child in years.
Dennis O'Brien had left his girl-wife iu
the "old country/' with her feeble old
mother, while he came ahead to America
to make a home for both. The mother
had died, and Dennis h?.i ^nt
.v. HVItl, OV UUCV
for Nora, although the home was not
yet ready. Before she landed Dennis
himself had been called to another country,
whither she could not follow him,
although she iprayed to do so, and had
wept dim those "swate blue eyes of her,"
which Dennis had longed in vain to see.
Frances had discovered her in the way
that those whose vision is anointed from
above will discover a brother or sister
who sinks by the wayside. She had recognized
in her Gertie Marsden's needed
helper. And now she saw that the Marsdens
themselves were in need of help
if one dare offer it! . A thought flashed
into her mind by way of her heart, and
she hastened to talk it over with her
husband.
"Isn't this a case, Oscar?" she appealed.
"I shouldn't call it one," he answered
teasingly, adding quickly, at sight of her
blank face. "I should call it two cases,
rolled into one. You are getting ofT at
half price, little tlnancier."
"And oh, Oscar, isn't it wonderful?
Tomorrow is the anniversary of our engagement"!
"Wonderful? It had to come around
sometime, hadn't it"?
"Oh, Oscar, you know! Wonderful
that God should send us this opportunity
at this time. Doesn't He plan the most
beautiful things"?
"He does, Sweetheart?your eyes for
instance." But the. u-nnio ?*
? w? wo VTC1C IJUv
lightly spoken, for it was the spirit shining
in their dark blue depths at which
Oscar was gazing with loving reverence.
She thanked him, in a wife's way, and
eagerly outlined her plan.
"I think it can be arranged. Oscar,
without wounding any one's pride. I
shall got Gertie interested in Nora, ana
sbe will be glad to assist the heartbroken
little creature. Don't you tbink
she will And a comforting home with
those two sweet Christian women? And
the work is fascinating, and will take
hter out of herself. 1 can trust the
Marsdens with the story of the Fund,
and I shall Just put the little sum in their
hands, fcr her wages, and all that. They
will think it iB Nora's welfare I have
at heart, and my part iu it will be 'unbeknownst'
to Nora, as she herself would
say. If the experiment Is a success they
will be glad to continue it, and can
afford to, by that time. You know l nm
something of a prophetess, Oscar, and I
foresee great things for Gertie and her
pretty Irish helper."
When she left home upota her errand
(which prospered as she hoped and had
predicted) Professor Elliott drew from
his 'pocket book a well worn letter, and
read it over, with a tender light in his
haze) <jtfs. "The darlhig"! Itt* mur
mured.
It wa3 just about a year from that