The dog lay at his master's feet, nor stirred until Solomon was carried out to his grave. The Community buried the miner in one corner of the lonely little meadow. No service had they and no mound was raised to mark the spot, for such was their custom; but in the early spring we went down again into the valley, and placed a block of granite over the grave. It bore the inscription:-- SOLOMON. He will finish his work in heaven. Strange as it may seem, the wife pined for her artist husband. We found her in the Community trying to work, but so aged and bent that we hardly knew her. Her large eyes had lost their peevish discontent, and a great sadness had taken the place. 'Seems like I couldn't get on without Sol,' she said, sitting with us in the hotel parlor after work-hours. 'I kinder miss his voice and all them names he used to call me; he got 'em out of the Bible, so they must have been good, you know. He always thought everything I did was right, and he thought no end of my good looks, too; I suppose I've lost 'em all now. He was mighty fond of me; nobody in all the world cares a straw for me now. Even Roarer wouldn't stay with me, for all I petted him; he kep' a going out to that meader and a lying by Sol, until, one day, we found him there dead. He just died of sheer loneliness, I reckon. I sha'n't have to stop long I know, because I keep a dreaming of Sol, and he always looks at me like he did when I first knew him. He was a beautiful boy when I first saw him on that load of wood coming into Sandy. Well, ladies, I must go. Thank you kindly for all you've done for me. And say, Miss Stuart, when I die you shall have that coal pictur; no one else 'ud vally it so much.' Three months after, while we were at the sea-shore, Ermine received a long tin case, directed in a peculiar handwriting; it had been forwarded from C----, and contained the sketch and a note from the Community. 'E. STUART: The woman Dorcas Bangs died this day. She will be put away by the side of her husband, Solomon Bangs. She left the enclosed picture, which we hereby send, and which please acknowledge by return of mail. 'JACOB BOLL, _Trustee_.' I unfolded the wrappings and looked at the sketch; 'It is indeed striking,' I said. 'She must have been beautiful once, poor woman!' 'Let us hope that at least she is beautiful now, for her husband's sake poor man!' replied Ermine. Even then we could not give up our preferences. WILHELMINA. 'And so, Mina, you will not marry the baker?' 'No: I waits for Gustav.' 'How long is it since you have seen him?' 'Three year; it was a three-year regi-mènt.' 'Then he will soon be home?' 'I not know' answered the girl, with a wistful look in her dark eyes, as if asking information from the superior being who sat in the skiff,--a being from the outside world where newspapers, the modern Tree of Knowledge, were not forbidden.