One man in the town—­a cousin of Jason the wanderer—­was supposed to hold communication with him.  This man notified Hannah one day that a safe life annuity had been purchased for her, and thereafter she lived at the house of Farmer Hopkins, not as a loved dependent, but as a cherished and faithful friend.  Thus freed from the bitter sting of helpless poverty, Hannah sank resignedly into a quiet and honorable life.

At length, one warm summer day, when Jason Fletcher should have been about forty years of age, there strayed into the village a blind mendicant, with a dog for guide, and a wooden leg rudely fastened to one stiff stump.  This stranger, white-headed and with the care-lines of many years on his sadly furrowed face, sought out poor Hannah Lee, and told her that he had, by the grace of God, come back, at last, to die.  Leading him with gentle counsels to that Mercy Seat where none ever seek in vain, poor Hannah saw him bend with contrite and humble spirit, and seek the forgiveness needed to atone for many years of sin.  Patient and penitent he passed a few quiet years, and then she followed to the tomb the earthly remains of him for whom she had sacrificed a life.

And this being done, she removed to a distant town, where Martha Hopkins, now kind Mrs. Marjoram, dwelt.

And many years afterwards Mrs. Marjoram told her story, as a lesson that men should never judge a living soul by its outward habiliments.

* * * * *

FREEDOM’S STARS.

  From Everglades to Dismal Swamp
    Rose on the hot and trembling air
  Cloud after cloud, in dark array,
    Enfolding from their serpent lair
  The starry flag that guards the free:—­
    One after one its stars grew dun,
  Heaven given to shine on Liberty.

  But swifter than the lightning’s gleam
    Flashed out the spears of Northern-light,
  And with the north wind’s saving wings,
    The cloud-host, vanquished, took to flight. 
  Then in her white-winged radiance there
    The angel Freedom conquering came,
  Relit once more her brilliant stars,
    To burn with an eternal flame.

* * * * *

ON THE PLAINS.

The plains is the current designation of the region stretching westward from Missouri—­or rather from the western settlements of Kansas and Nebraska—­to the eastern base of the Rocky Mountains.  Part of it is included under the vague designation of ‘the Great American Desert;’ but that title is applicable to a far larger area westward than eastward of the Rocky Mountains.  The Great Basin, whereof Salt Lake is the lowest point, and the Valley of the Colorado, which skirts it on the east, are mainly sterile from drouth or other causes—­not one acre in each hundred of their surface being arable without irrigation, and not one in ten capable of being made productive by irrigation.  Arid, naked, or thinly shrub-covered