Today's Stichomancy for Margaret Thatcher

Jesus and Joseph toiled together, Mary's thoughts were far-- Angels sang in the wintry weather Under a star.

RIVERS TO THE SEA

Mary sat in the corner weeping, Bitter and hot her tears-- Little faith were the angels keeping All the years.

THE CARPENTER'S SON

THE summer dawn came over-soon,

outside had attracted his attention. Madeline listened. Low voices of men, the softer liquid tones of a woman, drifted in through the open door. They spoke in Spanish, and the voices grew louder. Evidently the speakers were approaching the station. Footsteps crunching on gravel attested to this, and quicker steps, coming with deep tones of men in anger, told of a quarrel. Then the woman's voice, hurried and broken, rising higher, was eloquent of vain appeal.

The cowboy's demeanor startled Madeline into anticipation of something dreadful. She was not deceived. From outside came the sound of a scuffle--a muffled shot, a groan, the thud of a

The Light of Western Stars

unobstructed view, and less than half a mile distant Madeline saw the riderless horse coming along the white trail at a rapid canter. She watched him, recalling the circumstances under which she had first seen him, and then his wild flight through the dimly lighted streets of El Cajon out into the black night. She thrilled again and believed she would never think of that starry night's adventure without a thrill. She watched the horse and felt more than curiosity. A shrill, piercing whistle pealed in.

"Wal, he's seen us, thet's sure," said Bill.

The horse neared the corrals, disappeared into a lane, and then, breaking his gait again, thundered into the inclosure and pounded

The Light of Western Stars