trunks were not over a foot apart, and their branches had overlapped and interwoven. Almost as one growth they seemed. They were the dogwood and the redbud, and each was in full bloom. At first the sight dazzled me. The pure white flowers, yellow-hearted, gleaming against the mass of crimson blooms which clung closely to twig and limb, produced a remarkable effect. The hardier trees remained bleak, barren, apparently lifeless. They required more embracing from the sun, more kissing from the rain, more sighs of entreaty from the wind before the transmutation of sap to leaf would be accomplished. It chanced that I had halted at a spot where no homestead was visible, and I was absolutely alone. None passed, and no cattle or stock of any kind stood in the adjoining fields. It was a faint foretaste of the immediate future, and a peculiar peace came over me as I stood on the hard, oiled road, and felt myself becoming at one with the universal light and life of the earth and sky. My breast thrilled, and I drew in my breath quickly. Was it a message? An assurance from the mother-heart of Nature that she would care for me tenderly in exile? I turned and went slowly, thoughtfully, back to town, reaching it just as the dusk began to be starred by the rayed arc lights. "'Crombie," I said, lighting one of his choicest cigars and sitting facing him; "you've steered me into an awful mess." You know I could fuss at 'Crombie. He was too big to take offense. "How so, my son?" he replied, easily, his large face gently humorous. "Well, I started to pack for this--er--trip, or outing, and I had no more idea how to go about it than a pig. What will I need, and what must I take? You've got me into this, and you've got to see me through it." "The first thing you'll need will be a roof with good, stout, tight walls under it. Remember, you're not going there to bask in sunshine alone, but you're going to spend next winter there!" I looked at him, and I imagine my expression was something like that of a dog when a youth badgers it, for 'Crombie laughed. "I don't want to make it worse than it is," he apologized; "neither do I want you to be deceived in any way regarding conditions. But by the time winter comes, take my word for it, you can sleep in a snow-drift without hurt." I smoked in silence. The thought was not encouraging.