On Decoration Day

There had been for several generations a feud between the Maxwells and Harts. It was, so to speak, a decent, well regulated quarrel, no member of one family ever baving ofïered personal víolence to one of the other; still, they "did not speak." In May, Kate Maxwell carne to visit her uncle and aunt. "Are there services here on Decora tion Day?" she asked. "No, not in this part of the town. There's only one soldier's grave here, and the Grand Army send somebody to put a flag on it." "Whoseisit?" "Torn Hart's." 'And doesn'tit haveany flowers? I should think his family would see to that." "Oh, the Harts have no more sentiment than a cow!" 'Then some of us ought to do it." No one replied, and,notieing how grim the family expression innnediatoly became, Kate made her own private plans, and said oothing. On the morning of Docovation Day she donned her prettiest dress and most coaxing manher, and ran to beg Uncle (iray f she might have just a few apple blossoms. "Ves; if she would take them from the 'grmds tone' in the corner of the orchard, she might (trip the tree." "And, uncle," she still asked, hanging on his arm, ''I heard you say you were going to mili. Won t you take me with you, and wait juat a minute for me to do an errand by the way?" "Yes, Kate the Tease!" Half an hour later, Kate, accompnnied by an enormous basket filled with apple Mossoms, mounted the (arfn wagon. "What's that for?" asked her uncle. "I'm going to stop at the cemetary, and decórate Toni Hart 's grave." "111 have nothin to do v.ith one of tb' Harts, dead or alive." "Blesa you, unile, youneedn't have! Sitting in the wagon to wait for me won't compromiseyou. Andhowever you muy regard the Harts in general, this particular Torn is a hero and a martyr; he died for his country." Kate usually did manage to get her own way, and, thouijh her uncle grumbled, he set her down at the cemetery gate. It wasalittle yard, easily overlooked from the road, and by the time she had rinished her work, another farm wagon had stopped behind her uncle's. 'An old man alighted, and met her at the gate. "I can't hardly trust my eyes," he said. "Is that Tom's grave you've fixed up?" "Yes, sir- Torn Hart's. I had enough ilowersto cover it, anditsmells so sweet!" "You're a good girl," said tne old man, brokenly. "I should liketotalk with you about my boy Tom." "Únele will tako me to see you, I'm miro," said Kate clearly. Won't you, Unció Gi'ay?" Gray Maxwell wa3 by nature a polite man; he had been constant to his feud all these years chiefly by avoidance of the Harts. "Ye-es," he hesitated. Mr. Hart looked at him. "Fine growin' weather," he announced. "Yes," ropliod Maxwell, this time with more decisión. By sundown it was all over the village that "the Maxwells aud Harts had spoken." "Dear me!" thought Kate when shü heard it. "I builded better than I knew." And the two farmers, who had long ago tired of animosity, blessed the day of national peace and reconciliation which had broken their bonds. - Youths' Companion.