acquainted with him, wondering how he could content himself to settle
down quietly in Silverton, when he would surety die if compelled to live
there for a week. Something like this he said to Dr. Grant when that
evening they sat together in the handsome parlor at Linwood, for Morris
kindly invited him to spend the night with him:

"I stay at Silverton, first, because I think I can do more good here
than elsewhere, and, secondly, because I really like the country and the
country people, for, strange and uncouth as they may seem to you, who
never lived among them, they have kinder, truer hearts beating beneath
their rough exteriors, than are often found in the city."

This was Morris' reply, and in the conversation which ensued Wilford
Cameron caught glimpses of a nobler, higher phase of manhood than he had
thought existed, feeling an unbounded respect for one who, because he
believed it to be his duty, was, as it seemed to him, wasting his life
among people who could not appreciate his character, though they might
idolize the man. But this did not reconcile Wilford one whit the more to
Silverton. Uncle Ephraim had completed the work commenced by the two
feather beds, and at the breakfast, spread next morning in the coziest
of breakfast-rooms, he announced his intention of returning to New York
that day. To this Morris offered no objection, but asked to be
remembered to the mother, the sisters, and little Jamie, and then
invited Wilford to stop altogether at Linwood when he came again to
Silverton.

"Thank you; but it is hardly probable that I shall be here very soon,"
Wilford replied, adding, as he met the peculiar glance of Morris' eye:
"I found Miss Katy a delightful traveling acquaintance, and on my way
from Newport thought I would renew it and see a little of rustic life."