CHAPTER XVI.

CONCLUSION.

I have entitled this chapter "Conclusion," because it seems necessary to have the last chapter of a book named in that way. But the author might as well have named it "Beginning," for there is no such thing in life as a "conclusion," unless, indeed (as Randolph, looking over my shoulder, and fresh from the classic shades of Cambridge, suggests), we take the literal meaning of the word, a "shutting together"--of the covers of this book!

No; life is full of beginnings, and stories can never, never, to all eternity, "conclude." Because the "Pine Cone Stories" can have but just six volumes, of so many pages each, we must let the story go on without us. But it will not conclude, any more than your life or mine forever. With which little "preachment," as Miss Alcott's young people somewhere call it, let us take a last look at the friends whose stories are drifting away out of our sight.

More than three years have passed since Tom delivered that lucky shot at old Silver-Tip; since Bessie gazed thoughtfully down into the mighty cañon in the Yellowstone, and took in her hand the slender ribbon of grass for a token.

It is Christmas time, and we are in an old mansion house in the depths of a deep forest in the Pine Tree State. You recognize the room at once, I hope--for it is Uncle Will's little secret chamber at the Pines.

It is night, and the North Wind is smiting grandly his "thunder harp of pines," while the window panes whiten and rattle with the sheets of snow that are flung against them by the storm.

There is a glorious fire in the fireplace, throwing great billows of flame far up the chimney, crackling, snapping and purring, sending a ruddy glow into every corner of the room and over its inmates.

For the chamber is not empty; the fire is not talking to itself, but to a goodly company that gather around it, with all the old-time cheer.

Uncle Will is there, sturdy and broad-shouldered as ever, with hair only a little whiter than when we first met him, standing beside his good horses at the Pineville depot years ago.

Aunt Puss, too, is not far away, and her husband's occasional "Eunice" is even more full of tenderness than in earlier days, when they met by the lilac bushes.

Close by her side nestles golden-haired Pet, who turns, however, as she talks, to a tall youth with a dark curling mustache, whom she addresses as Randolph. The flush on her cheeks and the brightness in her happy eyes is not alone borrowed from the dancing fire; for Randolph has just stooped down and whispered to his aunt--Pet knew perfectly well, too, what he was saying, sly puss!--that the wedding-day was set for the first of May.

In another corner of the room Tom, now a grave senior at Harvard, is reading by the fire-light a letter postmarked "Portland, Oregon." I don't believe Bert Martin wrote it, though there is a great deal in the letter about him; for the handwriting is decidedly feminine. Can it be that Bert employs his sister as an amanuensis?

The young lady in navy blue, next to Tom, must be Kittie, whose engagement to Fred Seacomb "came out" simultaneously with Randolph and Pet's. She tells me privately that she can not help teasing him, he's so dignified with his new instructorship in the University of Pennsylvania; but then he's good-natured and don't seem to mind it a bit--"'so long as he has me,' he says--foolish fellow!"

"Have you heard from Bess lately?" asks Uncle Will.

"Only last week," replies Tom, throwing a handful of cones on the fire, and then trying to get the pitch off his white hands. "She and Ross were in Geneva, and having a glorious time."

"I shall be glad when she is back in this country again," remarks Aunt Puss, stroking Pet's bright hair. "If all my girls should run away so far, as soon as they were married, I don't know what I should do!"

Pet laughs and blushes a little, and assures her aunt that "there's no danger!" For she and Randolph have talked it over, you see, and have resolved on another Alaskan trip, where they can renew their memories of that bright summer among the gulfs and glaciers of the far Northwest.

"Just for the sake of old times" Uncle Will tells a story, while the red blaze crackles around a plentiful supply of cones and curling sheets of "silver rags." Without, the northern crosses all through the wood are white with snow, and the wind rises until in its continuous voice can be heard a roar as of the kelp-laden surges around the lonely reefs of Appledore.

There is silence in the little chamber as young folk and old gaze dreamily into the heart of the fire, their thoughts full of dear old days, yet looking forward, strong, trustful, hopeful, to the shelter that shall be for them in the heart of every storm that may assail them; to the work and the joy and the gladness of life that is set before them.

* * * * *

D. LOTHROP COMPANY'S SELECT LIST OF BOOKS.

BOYD (Pliny Steele).

UP AND DOWN THE MERRIMAC. Illustrated, 12mo, 1.00.

A vacation trip upon one of the most charming rivers in the world, made in a dory by the author and his two sons for the purpose of hunting, fishing and a good time generally.

"The author is a shrewd thinker; his reflections upon men and things which run through its pages render it peculiarly attractive."--_Philadelphia Item._

BOYDEN (Anna L.).

ECHOES FROM HOSPITAL AND WHITE HOUSE. 12mo, 1.00. (=4=)

"Anna L. Boyden has undertaken to commemorate the services of Mrs. Rebecca R. Pomroy in the hospitals of the army and in the family of President Lincoln during the Rebellion. The book is a well-written, earnest account of Mrs. Pomroy's valuable work as a nurse, and, as such, an addition which all will be glad to have to the bibliography of the late War."--_Chicago Tribune._

BOYESEN (Hjalmar Hjorth).

VAGABOND TALES. Square 12mo, 1.25.

A collection of characteristic novellettes by one of the most entertaining and most popular of modern story-tellers. No writer living--scarcely excepting even the great Bjornstein--so thoroughly understands the Norse character and when into this is infused the American element, the success of Prof. Boyesen's tales is easily understood. There is a breeziness, a vigor and a manliness about his characters that captivate the reader at once and combine dramatic force with literary skill. The stories included in this volume are: Crooked John; A Child of the Age; Monk Tellenbach's Exile; A Disastrous Partnership; Liberty's Victim; A Perilous Incognito; Charity.

BOY'S WORKSHOP (A).

By a Boy and his Friends. With an introduction by Henry Randall Waite. Illustrated, 12mo, 1.00.

"Written by 'a boy and his friends,' and takes you right into _A Boy's Workshop_; tells you how to make and to use a saw-horse and a work-bench; how to use tools and to care for them; lets you into the secret of book-rests, foot-rests, tables, cabinets, catch-alls, etc.; shows you how to build wooden tents, make a fernery, construct a railway and train, bind magazines, take photographs, tie knots, and do a great many other things. It is a book that every boy would like to have, and that he ought to have."--_Advance_, Chicago.

"Next to actual service with an intelligent carpenter or cabinet-maker this book is to be valued for its instruction in the art and mystery of tools."--_Christian Advocate_, New York.

BRAVE GIRLS.

12mo, illustrated, 1.50.

When young people see the name of Nora Perry, Mary Hartwell Catherwood or Frank H. Converse appended to a story, they prick up their ears at once, for they have learned to expect something of unusual interest. They will not be disappointed when they open this book and read about Glen Hastings, Kate Oxford, Sharly Raymond and Bessy May--brave girls every one, but in divers ways. Other writers almost as well known as these favorites have helped in no slight degree to swell this tribute to the girls.

FAITH AND ACTION.

Selections from the writings of F. D. Maurice. With preface by Rev. Phillips Brooks, D. D. 12mo, 1.00.

Few English clergymen are better known in this country than Frederic D. Maurice, whose untimely death, some years ago, deprived not only England, but the Christian world, of one of its ablest religious teachers. He devoted a great deal of his time to the social and religious needs of the common people.

Maurice was a dear friend of Tennyson. The following lines in one of the poet's best-known pieces refer to his friend:

"How best to help the slender store, How mend the dwellings of the poor, How gain in life as life advances, Valor and charity more and more."

FARMAN (Ella). (Mrs. C. S. Pratt.)

Ella Farman is the editor of WIDE AWAKE, and her books are full of sympathy with girl-life, always sunshiny and hopeful, always pointing out new ways to do things and unexpected causes for happiness and gladness.

THE COOKING-CLUB OF TU-WHIT HOLLOW. 12mo, illustrated, 1.25.

The practical instructions in housewifery, which are abundant, are set in the midst of a bright wholesome story. Girls who read this book will not be able to keep house at once, but they will learn to do some things, and they will have an hour or two of genuine pleasure in discovering how there came to be a cooking-club and in tracing its history.

GOOD-FOR-NOTHING POLLY. 12mo, illustrated, 1.00.

Polly is not a girl at all, but a boy, a slangy, school-hating, fun-loving, wilful, big-hearted boy. "Nagged" continually at home, he wastes his time upon the streets and finally runs away. The book tells of his adventures. Mrs. Pratt has a keen insight into the joys and sorrows of the little appreciated boy-life. Like Robert J. Burdette, she is a master of humor and often touches a tender chord of pathos. Every boy will be delighted with this book and every mother ought to read it who is, all unwittingly perhaps, "freezing" her own noisy boy out of the home.

"'Good-for-Nothing Polly' will doubtless gain the admiration and win the graces of as large a circle of readers in England as it has already done in the United States."--_Bookseller_, London.

HOW TWO GIRLS TRIED FARMING. 12mo, illustrated, 1.00.

A narrative of an actual experience.

"The two girls who tried farming solved a problem by taking the bull by the horns, and that is often as effectual a means as can be resorted to. They had for capital one thousand dollars. With this they bought thirty-five acres of scraggy farm land. Then they hired out as lady help for the winter and laid by enough money to buy clover seed, and a horse and a few other necessities. Dolly had learned to plough and harrow and make hay, and even to cut wood. Both girls worked hard and it is pleasant to chronicle their success. Now they have a prosperous farm, and raise cows, sheep, pigs and chickens, and as they do everything to the best of their ability, their products are in constant demand."--_St. Louis Post Despatch._

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"The success of the farm is almost surpassed by the charm of the record. It shows a touch of refinement and a degree of literary skill no less uncommon than the enterprise which has converted a bleak hill-top of Michigan into a smiling garden."--_New York Tribune._