had been breathing all night the quivering pines, and brown
swamps, and the white and gray checkered fields that would soon
be upturned by the plowshares--a vagrant wind wandered into the
city street.

The lingering, but faint perfume wafted here from God's open
world to die in this man-made town inspired in the youth thoughts
and desires that had been struggling within him for expression
for days past.

"I know what I want," said Hiram Strong, aloud. "I want to get
back to the land!"

The progress of the day was not inducive to a hopeful outlook
for Hiram. When closing time came he was heartily sick of the
business of storekeeping, if he never had been before.

And when he dragged himself home to the boarding house, he
found the atmosphere there as dreary as the street itself. The
boarders were grumpy and Mrs. Atterson was in a tearful state
again.

Hiram could not stay in his room. It was a narrow, cold place at
the end of the back hall at the top of the house. There was a
little, painted bureau in it, one leg of which had been replaced
by a brick, and the little glass was so blue and blurred that he
never could see in it whether his tie was straight or not.

There was a chair, a shelf for books, and a narrow folding bed.
When the bed was dropped down for his occupancy at night, he