For an hour more, they sat there; then Grant's voice broke the hush, as he put his head in at the open window of the parlor, where his sister and Dr. Brownlee were sitting in the moonlight. "That's the seventh time you've said good night, Lou," he remarked, in a hollow tone; "and I should think the eighth 'most ought to do the business, unless you want to be dead sleepy, to-morrow night, while you're in the middle of being tied up." The next evening found the chapel crowded. Every seat was occupied, and the side aisles were filled with the miners and their wives, who stood waiting to look on at the marriage of "our Miss Lou," for she was a favorite with them all. At length the murmur of voices died away, as Mr. Nelson took his place in the chancel, while the little organ pealed out the opening strains of the wedding march. A moment later, the doors swung open and the bridal party entered, Charlie and Ned leading the way, with Allie and Marjorie following them, while Mr. Everett and his daughter came after them. Louise was beautiful, in her simple white silk gown, although she looked a little pale and nervous, as she saw so many eyes turned upon her. Then she forgot it all, all the crowd and the excitement, and even the friends gathered about her, and her face grew radiant with her love, for Dr. Brownlee had met her at the head of the aisle, to lead her forward to the altar; and above the low notes of the organ, she heard the quiet, earnest voice, as it followed Mr. Nelson's through the familiar words,-- "I, Winthrop, take thee, Louise, to my wedded wife." Their troths were plighted, the ring was slipped into place, and the blessing was pronounced. Then, as Winthrop Brownlee and his bride turned to face the congregation once more, the organ rang out in a triumphal march, and the bell in the little tower overhead burst into a merry peal. The sound rolled far up and down the valley, and the mountains echoed back the happy tidings; then the evening quiet once more descended upon Blue Creek Canon. L'ENVOI. The last leaf ended, ere you lay My book aside, and turn to rest, Read here, old friends, between the lines, My loving memories of your West. The distance shortens to my eyes; To-morrow's sun will sink to rest Behind your hills. One day is all That separates us, East and West. Then hasten forth, my little book, Speed on your way, nor pause to rest; But, turning towards the setting sun, My greetings bear from East to West. "TREMONT," Twenty-seventh May, 1892. Other Books Published by T. Y. CROWELL & CO. ANNA CHAPIN RAY'S BOOKS. "A quiet sly humor, a faculty of investing every-day events with a dramatic interest, a photographic touch which places her characters before the reader, and a high moral tone are to be remarked in Miss Ray."--_Detroit Tribune._ HALF A DOZEN BOYS. HALF A DOZEN GIRLS. IN BLUE CREEK CANON. CADETS OF FLEMMING HALL.