When Ephraim came home to supper that evening, he brought the Brampton Clarion, just out, and in it was an account of Miss Lucretia Penniman’s speech at the mass meeting, and of her visit, and of her career.  It was written in Mr. Page’s best vein, and so laudatory was it that we shall have to spare Miss Lucretia in not repeating it here:  yes, and omit the encomiums, too, on the teacher of the Brampton lower school.  Mr. Worthington was not mentioned, and for this, at least, Cynthia drew along breath of relief, though Ephraim was of the opinion that the first citizen should have been scored as he deserved, and held up to the contempt of his fellow-townsmen.  The dismissal of the teacher, indeed, was put down to a regrettable misconception on the part of “one of the prudential committee,” who had confessed his mistake in “a manly and altogether praiseworthy speech.”  The article was as near the truth, perhaps, as the Clarions may come on such matters—­which is not very near.  Cynthia would have been better pleased if Mr. Page had spared his readers the recital of her qualities, and she did not in the least recognize the paragon whom Miss Lucretia had befriended and defended.  She was thankful that Mr. Page did pot state that the celebrity had come up from Boston on her account.  Miss Penniman had been “actuated by a sudden desire to see once more the beauties of her old home, to look into the faces of the old friends who had followed her career with such pardonable pride.”  The speech of the president of the literary club, you may be sure, was printed in full, for Mr. Ives himself had taken the trouble to write it out for the editor—­by request, of course.

Cynthia turned over the sheet, and read many interesting items:  one concerning the beauty and fashion and intellect which attended the party at Mr. Gamaliel Ives’s; in the Clovelly notes she saw that Miss Judy Hatch, of Coniston, was visiting relatives there; she learned the output of the Worthington Mills for the past week.  Cynthia was about to fold up the paper and send it to Miss Lucretia, whom she thought it would amuse, when her eyes were arrested by the sight of a familiar name.

        “Jethro Bass come to life again. 
          From the State Tribune.”

That was the heading.  “One of the greatest political surprises in many years was the arrival in the capital on Wednesday of Judge Bass, whom it was thought, had permanently retired from politics.  This, at least, seems to have been the confident belief of a faction in the state who have at heart the consolidation of certain lines of railroads.  Judge Bass was found by a Tribune reporter in the familiar Throne Room at the Pelican, but, as usual, he could not be induced to talk for publication.  He was in conference throughout the afternoon with several well-known leaders from the North Country.  The return of Jethro Bass to activity seriously complicates the railroad situation, and many prominent politicians are freely