questions and go to the polls to vote, there are certain homely objections in the way of promiscuous attendance on protracted conventions.

Angelica's utter obliviousness to the fact that she was doing something incompatible with the loftiest ideals was quite diverting. It never once occurred to her that the dignity of an election lay in freely allowing a fair vote. No! She thought it quite right to deliberately keep away from a vote until the ranks of Crumley's supporters should, perforce, be thinned!

Her speeches, her objections, her calls upon this one or that, her varied and successful efforts to attain her end, made all of the women and some of the men very angry. But as woman after woman quietly left the building, and set out for home, Jelliky's eyes shone with triumph. Crumley was not the best man for the place, and the place he must not have!

"Wimming be better et home," said Deacon Smithling, tartly. "They be better et home, a-tendin' to ther famblies, an' takin' keer o' ther homeses! What be they a-doin' in conventions, a-keepin' sech men ez Jackson Crumley from bein' numinated! I numinate that we-uns have heerd frum Jelliky Tumlingson all we-uns wants to!"

"Which ez Jelliky Tomlinson hain't got no fambly to cake keer on," said that young lady, quietly, "et do seem ez if Deacon Smithling hev kem ter be plum idjotic.

An' ez fur ez takin' keer o' my home," she went on, and her voice rose ever so slightly with a languid sting which made the deacon quiver and the others burst into a derisive laugh at his expense, ez fur that-wal, I reckon ez how ev'rybody hyar hez heern tell how the Widder Tomlinson kin do thet

'thout'n enny holp, expeshally when such yar men ez him goes thar!" And, indeed, it was true, that they had all heard of the deacon's hasty departure from the mountain, under the hastening influence of the widow's pointed hint.

"An' now," said one of the younger men, springing to his feet before the applause and laughter had subsided. "I reck'n ez we-uns doan want ter stay here till nex' sun-up; an' I reck'n 'et we be all agreed ez how et's ben powerful diffikilt ter chews atween the pussons ez hez ben numbinated; an' I move, Mister Chairming, ez how our candydate be the one ez is the most on

selfish, the best fur the offis, an' the one ez kin let us get home soonest. I've got a right smart o' stock et home, an' ef I doan git thar pritty soon they'll be a-sufferin'. An' so, feller citizens— an-an-zinesses-I moves ez how our candydate fur this hyar offis be Miss Jelliky Tomlinson!"

The suggestion went through with a rush, and, almost before Angelica could realize what had happened, she was the declared nominee, and the convention had adjourned, and all were making their few brief preparations for departure, or saying their final good-nights.

For it was really night. True, the sun had so recently set that, although it was dark at the foot of the mountain, on those lower roads and among the pines, a glorious golden sheen still glowed about the mountain summits. Angelica almost fancied that she could still make out, in the dusk that had gathered about the upper slopes, the clump of trees that marked her home.

It was with somewhat of heart-sickness that she looked on at the young people gayly riding off, in couples, and at husbands and wives comfortably jogging away together, and at friends and neighbors making up little parties and driving or riding off in company. But the Tomlinsons had no immediate neighbors on the mountain, as their home was too lofty and isolated, and such as went nearest to it did not think of Jelliky as needing an escort. But she was not afraid of anything, and in a few moments she started quietly off. Chivalrous regard for women, and a sense, among all the men of the mountains, that every man's first duty was to protect them, had sufficed to make mountain roads and lonely cabins as safe as homes in the crowded streets of cities. And yet, although there was no actual fear, such a night climb, up slope after slope, was liable to be a trial on the nerves, after all; the darkness of those mountain sides held vague terrors that were none the less strong for being intangible.

Angelica passed the burying-ground; she followed the main road for a little distance; then she entered a byway, and began the long, zigzagging ascent.

"Jelliky!"

She started. "Jackson Crumley!"

"Yes," he drawled. "Bein' ez ye are a-goin' my way, I thout I might go along. Keep off painters, ye know," he added.

"I'low as there hain't ben a painter showed hisself on the mounting sence the one you-uns shot las' month," she drawled in reply. And who shall say but what her brief political expe

rience had aided her to make the best possible speech? He felt strongly gratified.

"Wal! Thar ben't so many ez thar war, an' that's a fack! I be mighty handy with my gun, an' I know the beastisis tracks a'most a haffen mile off! No; thar won't be many painters a-yellin' an' a-cryin' aroun' this hyer mountin'."

"I be a-gettin' ter be a sort 'n a shot myself," she said, shyly. "I shot a Injun hen yestedday."

"Wal!" he said, admiringly. Each felt relieved to have the conversation go on freely without reference to the doings of the convention. To each of them that would have been a sorely delicate subject. Each felt, however, that the subject would have to be broached sooner or later.

They passed near a talc mine-a seared section of mountainside, whence that soapy mineral was dug, to be laboriously hauled to the nearest railway station miles away.

"I've heerd ez how them thar kappytalists uses et in flour, an' sech," she commented. "Did you-uns ever taste enny flour ez seemed to neighbor ter stone?"

"Never et the Widder Tomlinson's," he replied, gallantly. And then they both laughed together, and then there was a constrained silence. Up and up they went, not by a straight or a continuously ascending path, but now swinging far in one direction, following the trend of same slope, and now far in the other, as they worked up some narrow gorge. At times the path was almost unascendably steep, and then again it was nearly level, leading along some ledge.

"Yer don't think thet I wanted thet offis?" said Angelica, with sudden abruptness.

"Naw," he replied. "Naw, sir!"

"Kase I didn't. An' I doan want et now."

An owl hooted and cackled in an oak-tree above her head. Jackson said nothing further, and the two went slowly on. They reached the upper slopes, where loneliness and solitude reigned.

"I am glad thet I did n' let you-uns come home alone,” he said.

"Et war good in you-uns ter come," she responded, with a touch of humility in her tone.

And then the solitude and loneliness were broken, for right before them was Angelica's home, and cheerful light glowed and shimmered in and about it. Crumley stopped. "Hol' on a minnit," he said. She stood beside him, obediently. When he

spoke again his voice sounded rather strained, and a little nervous. "Jelliky! I do. be reckoned a tol'r'ble sot man; an' I hed sot myself the idee o' that thar cussid offis-but I beg yer parding fer thet word

"Do ye mean-shall I- -" she began, hesitatingly; for the fact is that, in the course of the long mountain climb, her ideas regarding Jackson's fitness for the office had become somewhat altered, and she was almost ready to admit having, with the best intentions, made a mistake.

"What I mean do be this. The Newnited States hev sed thet all wimming air ter be jest ez good ez men-perlitickerally. An' I hev allus ben a law-abidin' man. An' ter see the new law tried, an' see how et works, I be ready ter do my share. An' so long as Jackson Crumley ez ter get thet offis, I doan kyar whether et be Mis' Crumley or Mister. Shell we-uns settle et that thar way, Jelliky?"

And she must have agreed; for when they reached the door of the cabin the Widow Tomlinson, looking at them, could make a pretty fair guess at what had occurred. She grinned broadly.

"Kem in! Kem in! Doan stan' thar like a couple o' colts at the bars uv the wrong paschur! Kem in! I tol' Jelliky that she war a-goin' down ter them thar poleses ter git ye!"

THE WITCH OF SANTA BARBE *

BY FREDERIC HALLA

HERE was a great stir in the tiny village of Santa Barbe. The hilly, picturesque streets were thronged with people decked out in gay attire, though it was not a holiday. In front of the old stone courthouse a mass of people surged, waiting-for what? Within two weeks the town had become famous, not for its tobacco fields, not for its crops, not for any passing fair, but because Santa Barbe had lately acquired a new saint. Most of the villages possessed saints, but they were old, dried up, and buried centuries before, with the musty relics alone left for the people to worship and adore. A passing report gathered weight as it spread all over Mexico, that here, in the miserable hamlet of Santa Barbe, a new saint was lying hidden, absolutely new, a girl, young, beautiful, and gifted with marvelous healing powers. The mere touch of her robe in passing was enough, the people said, to cure the vilest disease. I say the report spread; nay, it flashed like an electric bolt. In a few hours the people, barefooted and in tatters, were travelling toward Santa Barbe, bringing their sick with them as to a sacred shrine.

Crime and disease found their way hither. "Santa Teresa can take it all away," they said. The magistrates remonstrated: "The town is filled to overflowing; all the wretchedness and filth of Mexico is pouring into Santa Barbe. It must be checked." The decision was a wise one, but what power on earth could stay that rushing river? A quivering mass of humanity seethed outside the lowly hut which the little saint had chosen for her temporary dwelling on this earth. "Come, come!" the people cried, "she will not stay long with us, and when she flies away again to heaven we shall be left in our sins and misery."

Thus Santa Barbe had become world-renowned, even as far as the borders of Mexico stretched east, west, north and south. For the people that came sorrowful went away blessing the girl saint. "It may be that the heart of the gracious Mother has been touched by the sufferings of her children," they murmured, "and * Written for Short Stories-Copyrighted.