The boy went back and picked up his bundle. When he returned to the edge of the thicket the spot of red was disappearing over the hill. He took off his cap and stood there until there was nothing before him but the sun shining on the hillside. Then he turned about, and walking steadily, Nathaniel Everett entered into his own world. NOCTES AMBROSIANAE From Hemlock Mountain's barren crest The roaring gale flies down the west And drifts the snow on Redmount's breast In hollows dark with pine. Full in its path from hill to hill There stands, beside a ruined mill, A lonely house, above whose sill A brace of candles shine. And there an ancient bachelor And maiden sister, full three-score, Sit all forgetful of the roar Of wind and mountain stream; Forgot the wind, forgot the snow, What magic airs about them blow? They read, in wondering voices low, The Midsummer Night's Dream! And, reading, past their frozen hill In charmed woods they range at will And hear the horns of Oberon shrill Above the plunging Tam;-- Yea, long beyond the cock's first crow In dreams they walk where windflowers blow; Late do they dream, and liker grow To Charles and Mary Lamb. HILLSBORO'S GOOD LUCK When the news of Hillsboro's good fortune swept along the highroad there was not a person in the other three villages of the valley who did not admit that Hillsboro deserved it. Everyone said that in this case Providence had rewarded true merit, Providence being represented by Mr. Josiah Camden, king of the Chicago wheat pit, whose carelessly bestowed bounty meant the happy termination of Hillsboro's long and arduous struggles. The memory of man could not go back to the time when that town had not had a public library. It was the pride of the remote village, lost among the Green Mountains, that long before Carnegie ever left Scotland there had been a collection of books free to all in the wing of Deacon Bradlaugh's house. Then as now the feat was achieved by the united efforts of all inhabitants. They boasted that the town had never been taxed a cent to keep up the library, that not a person had contributed a single penny except of his own free will; and it was true that the public spirit of the village concentrated itself most harmoniously upon this favorite feature of their common life. Political strife might rage in the grocery-stores, religious differences flame high in the vestibule of the church, and social distinctions embitter the Ladies' Club, but the library was a neutral ground where all parties met, united by a common and disinterested effort.