"My starting for any place out of sight of these mountains," answered Brent, "depends chiefly on the views of a certain young woman. At present the indications are that no such pilgrimage will ever begin." "_Alle Wetter!_ Are you married?" "No; but I expect to be in two weeks." "Is it the maiden who dwells in this house?" "The very same." For a few moments the professor gazed in silence at the prospective bride-groom. Besides feeling a personal interest in the case, he considered it a good subject for psychic investigation. "My good friend," he said, with judicial calmness, "why do you wish to espouse Miss Reinfelter?" Brent knew this question was not meant to be offensive, but was propounded in a spirit of critical analysis. He was about to answer it with a pretence of deep gravity, when Casper came around the corner of the house and asked him where "Sister Rena" was. "She has gone to the village," replied Brent. As the boy turned away, his disappointment was so evident that Brent said, "Do you want her to do anything for you, Casper?" "No, sir," said Casper dejectedly. "I just _want_ her." Brent smiled, and turned to the professor again. "I couldn't find a better answer to your question if I thought for a week," he said. "I just _want_ her." W. W. CRANE. MUSTER-DAY IN NEW ENGLAND. Arms and the men we sing,--not those panoplied and helmeted according to Virgil, nor those of our own day, armed with repeating rifles and drum-majored into popular favor, but rather the heroes of the flint-lock and the priming-wire in the New England of two or three generations ago, the sturdy train-bands that have left scarce one John Gilpin to tell the tale of their valor.