the welcome sound of the familiar lowing, by which the old cow
recognized her summons. Following the sound, Edna soon saw the
missing favorite coming slowly toward her, and ere many moments both
were running homeward. As she approached the house, driving Brindle
before her, and merrily singing her rude 'Ranz des vaches', the moon
rose full and round, and threw a flood of light over the porch where
the blacksmith still sat. Edna took off her bonnet and waved it at
him, but he did not seem to notice the signal, and driving the cow
into the yard, she called out as she latched the gate:

"Grandy, dear, why don't you go in to the fire? Are you waiting for
me, out here in the cold? I think Brindle certainly must have been
cropping grass around the old walls of Jericho, as that is the
farthest off of any place I know. If she is half as tired and hungry
as I am, she ought to be glad to get home." He did not answer, and
running up the steps she thought he had fallen asleep. The old
woolen hat shaded his face, but when she crept on tiptoe to the
chair, stooped, put her arms around him, and kissed his wrinkled
cheek, she started back in terror. The eyes stared at the moon, the
stiff fingers clutched the pipe from which the ashes had not been
shaken, and the face was cold and rigid. Aaron Hunt had indeed
fallen asleep, to wake no more amid the storms and woes and tears of
time.

Edna fell on her knees and grasped the icy hands. "Grandpa! wake up!
Oh, grandpa! speak to me, your little Pearl! Wake up! dear Grandy! I
have come back! My grandpa! Oh!--"

A wild, despairing cry rent the still evening air, and shrieked
dismally back from the distant hills and the gray, ghostly mountain-