The warm breath that blew in from the wheatlands felt dry and smelled dry.

An immeasurable barrier had arisen between him and his old fathera hideous thing of blood, of years, of ineradicable difference; the broad acres of wheatland so dear to him were to be taken from him; love had overcome him with headlong rush, a love that could never be returned; and cruelest of all, there was the war calling him to give up his home, his father, his future, and to go out to kill and to be killed.

Some nameless force loomed dark and sinister back of Glidden's meaning, and it was not peril to the wheatlands of the Northwest alone.

Now, lass, you know you'll get these wheatlands of mine some day.

But his understanding of the worth of the United States and his loyalty to it were manifest in his love for his wheatlands.

His wheatland must go to Anderson.

I'll buy ten thousand acres of that wheatland round old Chris Dorn's farm.

It had been long remarked that certain parts of these beds carried admirable wheatland; it had been remarked, too, that the finest hop- landsthose of Farnham, for instance, and Tunbridgelay upon them: but that the fertile band was very narrow; that, as in the Surrey Moors, vast sheets of the lower Greensand were not worth cultivation.

At the conclusion of his term returned to his home at Wheatland, near Lancaster, Pa. Died June 1, 1868, and was buried at Wheatland.

At the conclusion of his term returned to his home at Wheatland, near Lancaster, Pa. Died June 1, 1868, and was buried at Wheatland.

In the lull which succeeded the election, Mr. Buchanan had leisure, at Wheatland, to draft a programme for his incoming administration.

Broad green meadows, where the cattle graze beside the streams and in the plains; rolling uplands, ploughed and sown, where the barley nourishes; deep rich wheatlands; high hills and shadowy woods; grey church towers; new glaring schools; quiet wayside inns, and ancient farmhouses tenanted for generations by the same families.

All day across the ever-cloven soil, Strong horses labour, steaming in the sun, Down the long furrows with slow straining toil, Turning the brown clean layers; and one by one The crows gloom over them till daylight done Finds them asleep somewhere in duskèd lines Beyond the wheatlands in the northern pines.