Jenner, time and the things of time ceased to be. She fainted, and lay on the lounge in merciful oblivion to all that was going on.

She came to herself, was it five minutes later, or ten years, and strong arms were about her. A voice sweet with the tender love of a lifetime, spoke familiarly. No, this was neither heaven nor the judgment day. It was Mary Jenner's kitchen.

"There, there, dearie! Hush, hush, the storm's most over. I'm here with you. You're all safe, Molly. I'm here!"

"Ephraim!" she murmured, "Ephraim !"

"Just your old bear of an Ephraim, Molly. Poor girl! The storm nearly killed you, didn't it? Poor little Molly!"

She looked up. The faithful blue eyes were smiling into hers. The dear hands were smoothing her forehead. She tried to sit up, but fell back. She smiled. The storm was passing. A sunbeam slanted over the carpet.

"Lie still!" said her husband. “You lie still, dear." "You came back, Ephraim?”

"Of course I came back. The train was late. I saw the storm was going to be worse than I thought, a regular out an' outer, so I hired Joel West to come out of his way and leave me here. He'll do anything for money, you know, Mary."

"Oh, Ephraim, don't!"

"Don't what?"

"Don't mention money! I've been getting to love it! It's just as well ours is lost, considering the day of judgment! Oh, Ephraim, forgive me. I've been so horrid, and-won't you kiss me?"

The wife made her plea half timidly, but the husband gathered her close to his heart, and their lips met in a kiss of perfect love and pardon. Mary had found out that money was not everything.

That evening, together, when supper was cleared away,

they swept and dusted the disorderly house. Very early next day, in the freshness of the rising dawn, they caught the train for Waterford.

The Governor and his wife were present, for the occasion was doubly a function for them, as their daughter received a diploma, and the Governor made an address. But Susan Jenner had the valedictory, and two prouder people than the plain-looking couple, who watched her every movement with adoring eyes, were not in the crowded building that day. A new peace had crept over Mary Jenner's face, and she looked younger than she had in years.

"Good stock, those Jenners!" said the Governor to his wife. "They've lost nearly all they have in the world in that Midvale Bank trouble, but did you see how serene they were, how dignified? You can't down Americans. I tell you, Sarah, that's a clever girl of theirs. I hope Dorothy'll keep her as a friend.”

"You are such a dear, sentimental fellow," said the lady, squeezing the Governor's arm, as they were seated in their carriage, "that I'll tell you a secret. Dorothy says that Susan Jenner is engaged to Mark Trevor, the young man who's going to be your private secretary."

"A young man with a career before him! Good!" said the Governor.

Susan had anticipated some opposition from her mother. Mrs. Jenner had reckoned a good deal on having some years of Susan's company.

"But, mother," she said, when they had their first confidential talk after she was settled at home, "you and father were just the age of Mark and me when you were married."

"Girls used to marry younger than they do now, Susy." "You waited a good while for me, didn't you, mother?" Susy was sitting in the moonlight in her own room, looking very sweet and childish.

"A good while, daughter; but they were happy years. Your father was always good."

Do you

"Yes," said Susy, "daddy is good, good. think, mother, there's any chance at all that he'll ever recover from the bank?"

"I don't know, Susy, and I don't worry. Notice, child, I don't worry. Ephraim and I are both spared, and I've had an awakening."

"THEY

THE CATNIP WOMAN*

HEY call me the Catnip Woman," she said, while a smile lit up her face. She had taken off her plain Shaker bonnet and laid her long cloak over a chair, and had given me the little basket which she had brought with her down the long hill road. When I opened it I saw two or three articles tempting enough to delight an epicure and dainty enough to please the most fastidious housewife. There was a pound of golden butter; beside it a box of lucent honey in the comb, and wrapped in a white napkin; completing the gift was a loaf of such brown bread as I had praised when, several years before, I had been a guest at the hospitable board of the Mount Lebanon Shakers. Bread and butter and honey! Are they not the requisites for a feast? My friend has passed many years of her quiet and beautiful life as a member of the tranquil community who have their home on a hilltop overlooking a wide range of country, well timbered, well cultivated and inhabited by good people whose homesteads can be seen nestling among orchards and fields, as far as the eye can discern.

"Why do they call you the Catnip Woman?" I inquired. It seemed to me that she might better have been called after a garden flower or a wild rose than after this humble denizen of pasture lands and fields. She explained. I will put the explanation into my own words.

The Shaker people, following, I suppose, the example of early Christians, have no single possessions of their own. Everything goes into the common fund. They live in celibacy and are called brothers and sisters. They unite. on the Sabbath in their morning worship and they have an *This charming sketch was written shortly before Mrs. Sangster's fatal illness.

agreeable family life. The men and the women alike work and work hard, the tasks being subdivided. The sister who was talking with me had charge of a large dairy, cared for the milk, cream and butter, and rose the year round as early as five in the morning. I knew the immaculate cleanliness of her dairy and the scrupulous nicety with which every detail of her work was carried out, and I also knew how severe and ascetic was her entire life. I had been entertained in her room and had there seen the austerity softened by her books and plants and the reading matter which she enjoyed. The Christian Herald had long been her favorite paper, and she subscribed for it herself. From time to time she had shared in its benefactions, sending her contributions to sufferers from earthquake or famine or to Mont-Lawn when the opportunity came. Understanding that the members of her community had little spending money and went, when they required clothing or other essentials, to the heads of the family, very much as children go to parents, asking and receiving what was necessary, I had desired to know where this bountiful soul obtained what she wanted for her little luxuries and. her larger charities. This was why she went out and gathered catnip, finding a market for it in a Massachusetts town and spending the money thus earned in the personal ways she chose. Not all of it, however. Not all of it, however. A certain share was devoted conscientiously to the community funds. She said with the same irresistible laugh of amusement in reply to my inquiry as to the uses of catnip: "Why, my dear, catnip has a dozen uses! Everybody who has a cat must have catnip. It is the finest thing for babies. All oldfashioned people will tell you that catnip tea is very soothing for fretful little children, while it never can do them any harm; and when grown people are nervous and cannot sleep, there isn't a thing in the world that soothes them like a cup of hot catnip tea just before they go to bed. It is a wonderful nerve tonic. I mean to give you some,