He came to the door presently and shouted to the two men to come in, and pointed out to them as he had pointed out every evening since they had arrived his own skill in swizzling. It was a curious coincidence that had led Peter and Christopherson to Las Lomas.

So Peter went to London to collect his kit and to say good-bye to Jane Erskine, and Nigel Christopherson ordered a great many new boots of various designs, and some warlike weapons, and then there came the time when he had to write to Mrs. Avory to say that he was going away, and when in the solitude of his life at Hulworth he had time to sit down and wonder what she would think about it.

The silence of a minute or two was broken by a thunderous rat-tat at the house-door. Christopherson leapt to his feet, rushed from the room; I, half fearing that he had gone mad, followed to the head of the stairs. In a moment he came up again, limp and wretched as before. 'It was the postman, he muttered. 'I am expecting a letter.

Brother Haagenson was greatly blessed in his labors, and before the end of the year purchased the German Baptist Church, located on Walker Street, between Hanover and Greenbush. The cost of the building and lots was eight hundred dollars. Brother Haagenson remained until 1868, when he was succeeded on the Milwaukee and Racine Mission by Rev. N. Christopherson, who remained until the close of 1870.

They had the choice between sacrificing the books and losing what their relative offered. 'Christopherson refused? I let fall. 'I suppose his wife saw that it was too much for him. At all events, they'd agreed to keep the books and lose the house. And there's an end of it. I haven't been so riled about anything for a long time! Meantime I had been reflecting.

Nigel Christopherson lay on the sofa and looked up at the ceiling, because, as Jane had somehow divined, he hated the sight of blood; and he discoursed gravely on his misfortunes while she dressed the ugly wound and bound and slung his hand.

Well, this is what Mrs. Christopherson tells my aunt, Mrs. Keeting has offered to let her and her husband live down yonder, rent free, and their food provided. She's to be housekeeper, in fact, and keep the place ready for any one who goes down. 'Christopherson, I can see, would rather stay where he is. 'Why, of course, he doesn't know how he'll live without the bookshops.

There was a tap at the door, and a hurried tremulous voice begged the landlady to go upstairs. 'What is it, sir? she asked. 'I'm afraid she's worse, said Christopherson, turning his haggard face to me with startled recognition. 'Do come up at once, please. Without a word to me he disappeared with the landlady.

'Twenty years at least. She's about forty, I think. I mused for a few moments. 'After all, it isn't an unhappy marriage? 'Unhappy? cried Pomfret. 'Why, there's never been a disagreeable word between them, that I'll warrant. Once Christopherson gets over the change, they'll have nothing more in the world to ask for. He'll potter over his books

Get out? Where? How? One day when Chris Christopherson came in I asked him why he thought the water supply would be better in a year or so. "We can dig better dams. If they bane twice so big this year, they be full now from the snows and rains. We would yet have water plenty." "We could dig cisterns, couldn't we?" "Cost money, but not so much like deep wells.