soon located within its humble walls, and the few articles of furniture they had brought with them being tastefully arranged, the little domicile soon wore quite a home look.

Weston had preferred this location, because, with what little means he possessed, he had been enabled to pay for it at once, and thereby he obtained it somewhat cheaper. He had enough left to fence and "break" his land, and soon had a crop of corn growing. But, alas for the mutations of life, western fevers were then prevalent, and in the midst of the first season his wife sickened and died. Poor Weston! his day star had set in midnight gloom, and the great hope of life was dying in his bosom; but his children were still left to stimulate his energies, and he toiled on with his accustomed diligence. Miriam Weston was only fourteen years of age, but she was a bright little creature, intelligent beyond her years, and with her aid, and that of her brother Frank, two years older, Mr. Weston managed to carry on his farm and household labor; but he made many blunders out of doors as well as in, for a life-long mechanic is, at best, but a poor farmer.

His health failed, also, under his sad bereavement, and the heavy toil to which he was so unaccustomed. His ambition sustained him until his corn was gathered, and stored in a granary of his own construction, but in a few days longer he was confined to his bed, and early in winter he followed his wife into the dark valley of the shadow of death. No words can describe the wretchedness of the

poor children thus deprived of their last earthly friend. Their tears were not only tears of grief, but of utter hopelessness, and they clung closely to each other, almost expecting that death would soon claim one of them also.

The neighbors came in and performed the last sad offices for their poor father, and then looked around to do something for the children. They soon found

"places" for them, though at some distance from each other; but when Frank and Miriam were informed of the fact, their friends were surprised and indignant to learn that they obstinately refused to be separated. Finding that

they could not be persuaded to yield, the neighbors relinquished all effort in their behalf, and allowed them to live alone in the little cabin.

One kind-hearted man undertook the sale of their surplus corn, and although he only realized a few cents a bushel for it, he placed a few dollars in Frank's hand, and carried the rest of the corn to mill and had it ground for them. Unfortunately Weston's farm had no timber on it, and the little sum that their corn brought would barely supply them with fuel through the winter, so that their food must be scanty and coarse; but their prison-like fare seemed better to them than being torn from each other.

Oh, the long dreary hours of that terrible winter! The prairie winds swept wildly o'er the barren waste, and sighed and moaned around the little cabin, as if in sympathy with its lonely inmates. Poor Miriam ate her coarse bread with patience, even while the pearly tears rolled down her cheeks. But one morning found her sobbing on Frank's bosom in utter hopelessness. As Frank's tears mingled with her own, he exclaimed:

"I will go down to the village, Miriam, and try to find work. If I can earn a little money we can be more comfortable. I can chop wood, you know, or do most anything that isn't too hard."

"Well, I'll go with you, Frank; maybe I can do something, too."

In a moment she was wrapped in the little shawl and hood she had worn the winter before, and, hand in hand, the little orphans started out to seek employment. At almost the first application, Frank obtained permission to chop wood at twenty-five cents a day, and the sum seemed so munificent to them that the position was gladly accepted, and

they cheerfully kept on, hoping to find work for Miriam. They were unsuccessful until they reached the bakery. The baker wanted some one to deliver small baskets of bread in the village, and Miriam gratefully accepted the situation, although it was not very lucrative. It was a sore temptation to the poor girl, after her meagre breakfast with Frank, to enter the warm bakery where the fragrant bread and cakes were just coming from the oven; still she was faithful to her trust, and carried the tempting food untouched, even while her stomach ached for the want of more nourishing food.

Among the places she daily visited was the office of Earnest Dunbar. Since the Hammond lawsuit he had been carefully avoided, and poverty had compelled him to give up his place in the cheap boarding-house and live in his office upon a scanty supply from the bakery. He would have sought employment outside of his profession before this, but knowing that the knowledge of his necessity would be a gratification to his enemies, he resolved to wait awhile longer. He began to look with pleasure for Miriam's visits, and as he learned her history, a strong sympathy grew up in his heart for the orphan girl and her brother, but he felt that, as yet, he was powerless to aid them.

It was now nearly spring, and Frank and Miriam, were getting along quite comfortably, for, although they worked hard and were much exposed to the cold, they had more nourishing food, and both were crowned with the blessings of health. They were winning their way to the esteem of the public by their industry and perseverance, and people began to think that they were capable of taking care of themselves.

For nearly a month Mr. Mason, the baker, had been aware that some one was constantly committing petty thefts upon his premises. He had missed, at different times, loaves of bread, small

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Watch my little bread carrier.

No! I should as soon think of watching myself. Did you ever look into her face? It is honesty itself."

"Oh yes," sneered Miller, "I've seen such honest folks before. If you take my advice, you'll watch her, though."

His words haunted the baker all day. He could not get them out of his mind, and though he had no idea that Miriam was guilty, it looked odd that the two children should prefer living alone, and he knew they were very poor. Perhaps he had better watch a little.

One

The losses continued, and Mason determined to find the thief, and see that he or she was properly punished. night half a dozen loaves and a basket disappeared. The next morning Miller came, and learned of the loss with apparent surprise, but at once proposed to Mason that they should both go out to the Weston cabin and see if they could find any traces of it.

"The young ones are both in town now, and we can look around as much as we please."

"Well," replied the baker, "the search will do no harm, but I am sure that it will bring us no light."

They started out, and walking rapidly for a few minutes they came to the little log house, and finding the door unfast

usual, when he met Frank, evidently laboring under great excitement. He kindly inquired into the cause, and was not long in learning the story. Having been confined to his office for a few hours with a severe headache, he had heard nothing of the arrest, and his surprise and indignation knew no bounds. He promptly offered his legal services, which were gratefully accepted, and he went to work at the case with an inspiration that he had not felt for months.

The case was tried before the justice who presided over the petty legal difficulties of the western town, and the evidence on the part of the prosecution was so positive, and the prejudice against Earnest so strong, that he was again defeated, and poor Miriam pronounced "guilty." It would be no exaggeration to say that Dunbar felt this terrible blow as keenly as the poor little prisoner and her brother; but he determined that his helpless client should not be sacrificed, and his own reputation utterly ruined, and he promptly appealed the

cheeks and quivering lips made a warm appeal to every heart, and her large dark eyes, though swollen with constant weeping, still gleamed with the light of truth. Harding again appeared as counsel for the prosecution, and the same witnesses testified precisely as before, and it seemed as if nothing was wanting to complete the evidence.

People wondered why the young lawyer should appeal the case when the facts were so evident. One or two besides Mason testified to the repeated losses, and also to the fact that Miriam had free access to the shop during the day, and Mason could not tell positively

whether the thefts were committed in the night or during the day, except the last, and that he was sure had occurred in the night, but his evidence was positive as to the identity of the loaves found in the Weston cabin, and he could form no suspicion of how they came there, if the girl was not guilty, though he freely testified to her good character for promptness and integrity so far as he knew. The cross-examination by Dunbar elicited nothing farther, and Miller was next called to the stand. He swore positively that on the night in question he had seen Miriam Weston enter the bakery by the front window and return bringing with her the basket of loaves. He said he was in the front chamber over the saloon, and just opposite the bakery; he happened to be up with a sick child, and on looking across the street he saw Miriam by the light of the moon standing near the door of the bakery, and curiosity led him to watch her. His testimony was very clear and explicit evidently well prepared, but the rigid cross-examination which Earnest immediately instituted, evidently confused him.

"What time was it that you were up and saw her commit the act?"

"It was a little after eleven," replied the witness.

"Are you positive in regard to the time?"

Yes, he was sure, for the clock struck eleven immediately after he arose from bed.

"You say you saw and recognized her," pursued Dunbar. 'Now you were across the street, and it was night; is it not possible that you were mistaken in the identity of the prisoner?"

"No," replied Miller; "the moon shone brightly into her face as I looked, and I could not be deceived."

"How long was it from the time she came there until she departed with her booty?"

"Probably fifteen minutes-certainly

not over twenty minutes," replied the witness.

"Now," said the counsel for the defence, drawing himself up and looking the witness steadily in the eye, "you do positively swear that you did see the prisoner on the night of the 20th of February commit the theft at the hour of eleven ?"

Miller quailed for a moment, before Dunbar's piercing gaze, and then responded, "I do."

"And you do positively swear that you saw her by the light of the moon, and therefore could not be mistaken in her identity?"

The witness again responded, "I do.” "That is all," said Dunbar, as he added the last replies to his notes. "May it please the court, I have done with the witness."

The witnesses for the defence were then called. First, Frank Weston, who could only testify to the utter ignorance of himself and Miriam as to the presence of the loaves in their humble home, and then Robert Nelson was called to the stand. Miller turned pale when Nelson came forward, for he had been a clerk in Miller's establishment and their acquaintance had been rather more extensive than was altogether favorable to Miller's reputation. Nelson testified that he believed Miller to be dishonest, and had left his employ on that account, that during the latter part of his stay, while boarding in the family, he had noticed that the table was frequently supplied with baker's bread and cakes, but that he never knew Miller to purchase any, and that he believed at the time, they were stolen. He further stated that when he left Miller's he went to work for a man who lived about half way between the bakery and the Weston farm, and that on the morning of the 21st of February he was up early as usual and was going to his work, when he saw Miller hastening by with a basket on his arm; his curiosity was excited

and he watched him until he saw Miller approach the Weston farm, and then go around behind the granary instead of going into the house. The witness stated that he then left his post of observation and proceeded with his work. Still the query haunted his mind, what could Miller mean by his strange conduct? He finally left his work and went to look again. He then saw Frank and Miriam coming to their daily labor, and still watching, he soon saw Miller come out of his place of concealment and go into the house for a moment and then return without his basket, but with something in his hand, which he afterwards threw away. The witness then concluded that Miller had wished to surprise the children with a present and dismissed the matter from his mind. Great excitement prevailed in the courtroom during the giving of this evidence. Harding was evidently nonplussed, but commenced the cross-examination by asking,

"If you knew so much about this matter, how does it happen that we knew nothing of it before? Why did you not appear at the former trial?”

on

"Because," replied the witness, that day I heard that my father was lying dangerously sick about twenty miles from here, and started immedi ately to go to him; I consequently knew nothing of this affair until I saw Mr. Dunbar about two days ago. He learned that I had been in Miller's employ, and finding out where I was he came out there to get my testimony concerning Miller's character."

The cross-examination failed to affect the witness in any degree or to produce any appearance of discrepancy in his statements. Harding was considerably embarassed by the turn that the case had taken and his efforts, as the counsel for the prosecution, became ridicu lous from their inefficiency. When Dunbar arose to make his plea, his fine face was fairly luminous with the inspi