10
U WLitMtti Mmhj gaoler- jfcraflag pmtiitg, Ufcutft 9, 1890..
pew appertammg to Tho Hawthorns
Tho Hawthorns had a right to it, as it
had to the fishing in tho Oxhaugh water
and in this pew tho family deposited J
themselves on the first Sunday after their
coming. People see each other in church;
t this is a good thing; in truth, it is the
end of going to churoh to worship in the
company of our fellow creatures; but,
like every other good thing, it can be
put to bad uses, such as criticising
glances, uncharitable thoughts, etc. The
minister, but moro especially the minis
ters wife, is apt to think it an exceed
ingly wicked thing in any one to sleep
in church, and it would not be good to
advertise a prize for the best esay in de
fence of the weakness, although a great
preacher was not offended, nor did he
Beem to consider it a deadly sin, when a
young man fell into a dead sleep as he
was Jong preaching. Self made men are
probably not such humble worshipers as
men who have not been made at all; still,
Mr. and Mrs. Wright, with the perpetual
consciousness of intensely comfortable
circumstances, all owing to their own
good guidance, were religious people,
and they went to church from the best
of motives. Partly owing to this, and
partly to the fact that their powers of
observation were not quite in their first
jeunesse, they did not see every one that
was in it; but Miss Wright listened at
tentively to tho services, and could not
help mastering tho population of iho
district at the same time. In particular,
in a pew on the other side of the church,
below a gallery and immediately under
her eyes, she saw the manager of the
mill, his mother and what she knew
must be his sister; and in this girl she
instantly recognized the distressed dam
sel to whose appeal for the loan of a
shilling she had not only refused to listen,
but whom she had told thac sho did not
in tho least believe her story. Their eyes
met, and tho recognition was mutual;
Katie withdrew hers with an unpleasant
sensation, and Sarah felt her face grow
red and warm.
Next day Miss Wright wrote to hor
cousin, thus:
"Dirui JA5II3 Do come here imme
diately; I wanl to show j'ou something
you would like to see.
"Yours, S. Wright.
"Tho Hawthorns, July 20, IS."'
To which he rejoined:
"Dear Sarah I can't come; I am
busy among my turnips, and unless it is
something of great importance you must
excuse me. Truly yours,
"J. Jameson.
".Tustinloe. July 20. 18-"
"Dear Jasies It is very important.
Do you personally hoe turnips? Do
come. S. AVright.
"Tho Hawthorns, July 21, 18."
"Dear Sarah At times I personally
hoe fciraips. and the eye of a master is
worth much. Tell mo what I am to see,
and I'll judgo if I can come.
"Yours, J. Jamieson.
"Jnstinlee, July 21, 18."
"Dear James I won't tell you what
you are to see, but please don't neglect
your turnips on any account. lam yours
affectionately, S. Wright.
"Tho Hawthorns, July 22, 18."
"Dear Sarah Is it a thing I could
Bee between Saturday night and Monday
morning? I could come then, if that
will do. Yours ever, J. Jaiiiesok.
"Justinlee, July 22, 18."
"Dear James That will do, capitally.
You must see it on Sunday you cant
help it but wo mupt not speak of it on
that day. I shall expect you; don't fail
me. S. Wright.
"The Hawthorns, July 23, 18."
Accordingly Mr. Jamieson arrived at
tho Oxhaugh station on tho next Satur
day evening. Miss Wright met him and
drovo him up to Tho Hawthorns.
"Well," ho said, "what is it Tm to
eee?"
"You'll find that out when you see it."
"When am 1 to seo it?''
"To-morrow."
"Can I not see it to-night?'
"Well, if wo were to take strong meas
ures we might, but it will be better to
wait till to-morrow."
"Strong measures! What can it be?
Where am I to seo it?''
"At tho church."
"At tho church! It's not a grave, is
it? Is Ossian or tho Venerable Bede or
Mary of Lorraino or John Knox's first
wife buried here?"
"I don't know; they may be, all four
of them. It's not a grave you are to seo,
but you must look grave when you see
it. Mind that, above all things."
"Shall I bo inclined to laugh? Is it
funny?"
"Oh, very funny. But we had better
say no more about it; you'll seo it in
good time, and you won't need mo to
point it out."
"Very well; I'm not curious. I feel
as I do when I'm reading a story where
there is an extraordinary mystery always
kept before you; you know that nothing
can pofcfeibly happen to justify the expec
tations that have been raised. However,
if I get away on Monday early in the
morning, I don't mind."
"Certainly, you can go by the first
train, and Til drive you down with great
pleasure, and very likely we shan't seo
you all summer again."
"What! do you think I shall take of
iense at your nonsense? Not a bit."
"We shall see."
v.w- nioxniiur thoWrishts and their
guest- were seated in their gallery in
very good time. Miss Wright watched
the peoplo coming in, and at length,
when she saw tho Bertrams enter, she
fixed her eyes on her cousin's face to
note the effect. The Bertrams were set
tled in their seals with their faces full in
bight before ho noticed them, then all at
onco he saw and knew the eyes that had
gleamed on him from tho carriage win
dow at Summertown station, and ho
bent his head and smiled with tho kind
of expression people have when they
find out they have been pleasantly fool
ed. He turned to Sarah and whispered.
"Who is she? what is she?'
"Hush! hush!' she exclaimed, gravely;
"it's a subject we must not speak of to
dav." , vin.
ill, said Kaive Bertram as .he
and hor. brother were together iu the gar
den in the evening, "was the gentleman
who was in tho Wrights' seat todav the
person who was with them when they
w ere here?"
'Yes," said Will, shortly.
"Well, he was tho man who lent me
the shilling at the railway station, you
remember?''
"I remember well enough; ho was the
man, was he?'
"Yes, and Mrs. and Miss Wright were
the two ladies who would not believe a
word I said."
"Not Miss Wright, surely?" said Will.
"Yes; sho said to her mother that ask
ing money on some pretext was becom
ing a regular dodge at all the railway
stations.""
"I could have supposed that of Mr. or
Mrs. Wright they are narrow minded
people, and narrow minds aro always
suspicious but I can hardly believe that
of her. She must have learned it from
ihem, and her own dispositions have not
asserted themselves yet."
"But how will they agree?"' said Katie.
"They'll never agree after they are mar
ried, they are so different."
"Except that they have been seen
speaking together, there is nothing to
make any one supposethey have the
least intention of marrying."
"I think it would bo a pity," said
Katie.
"A great pity," said Will; "it is al
ways a foolish thing for cousins to
marry."
"Oh, they are cousins, are they?"
"Yes; he called Mr. Wright uncle, so
I infer they are cousins. You should go
and call on her, Katie."
"I call on her! Why, she won't think
us her equals at all. Besides, it is not
pleasant to call on people who suspected
you of a regular dodge."
"Well, well, just as you like," said
Will. "I think myself quite her equal,
whatever you do."
"It's not whatever I do, it's whatever
she does, that is the question. Does Mr.
Jamieson stay with them always, do you
know?"
"I know nothing about it," said Will
shortly, anJ ho walked away to another
part of the garden.
Next morning Sarah came down equip
ped for driving, and ready to give her
cousin his breakfast before they started.
"You see I always keep my promises,
James," sho said; "and now that it is
Monday morning we may speak of it as
much as you like.'
"It -does not keep a baker's shop," said
he.
"No, my wisdom was at fault there;
Bho is tho manager's sister. I mean to
call today and apologize for toy horrible
suspicion at Summertown, and if she'll
come I'll bring her up to spend the day."
"Well, you can't do moro than apolo
gize, or less than ask her to visit you."
"Get on with your breakfast, please; I
don't mean that you shall miss this train.
Turnips first, and beauty in distress after
ward." "I'm ready; I don't mean to miss this
train either." And they started.
When they came in sight of the man
ager's house Sarah said, touching his
arm: "James, the blinds are still down;
she must bo bleeping. They say even a
criminal is holy while ho is sleeping;
what must she be?"
"It's a pity you are not sleeping too, I
think," said he. "Tho manager is not
asleep, at least; there he is, standing at
his gate."
"So he is; wa must speak, even at the
risk of losing tho train." And she drew
up. "Do you think," sho said to Mr.
Bertram, "that it would be convenient
for Miss Bertram for mo to call as I
come" back I am anxious to speak to
her? I would have called last week, but
the country air, and the thing I want to
speak about hanging on my mind, mado
mo bashful."
"Quite convenient. I will tell her to
expect you.
"And tell her I should like if sho
would go up v.'ith mo and stay till even
ing if she can."
"I know of nothing to hinder her, and
I'll come and bring her home."
"Good-by, then. We haven't a mo
ment to lose; Mr. Jamieson must catch
the train it is of tho last importance:"'
and she touched the horse with her whip
and sent him on at a fine speed.
"Now," sho eaid, "here you are,
James, in time. I'll not come out, as I
can't leave Gin. Good-by! We shall
not expect to see you till November,
when you havo got tho harvest well in,
but I'll write and tell you what I think
of her. What a pity you could not stay
till to-morrow! Farewell!"
"Farewell!" said he. "I think you'll
find Mr. Bertram's conversation informa
tory, as tho newspapers say."
"I have no doubt I shall. Just come
down a peg, will you, and ask me to
help you with beauty in distress?"
"Thank you; I don't need help, but
I'm not the less obliged. Good-by!"
IX. i
It was a curious thing that a week after,
tho following Mondaj-, when 3Ir. Ber
tram left the mill between o and G
o'clock, he met Mr. Jamieson. They
shook hands.
"You aro on tho way to The Haw
thorns, I suppose?" said Mr. Bertram.
"No, I was not thinking of going to
night; I am just going homo again."
"Indeed! but you'll come in for a little? I
Have you time? I am going in to tea,
and it will be ready. Katie, my sister,
will be glad to seo you, too; she told me
it was you who helped her .in her strait
at the railway 6tation."
"Did sho remember me?" asked Mr.
Jamieson eagerly.
"Of course she did; she hasn't had so
many adventures as to forget that one;
and I feel obliged to you for helping
her."
They went in and found Mrs. Bertram
and Katie waiting for Will; they were
both much pleased to see Mr. Jamieson.
"I didn't know when you were here
before," said Mrs. Bertram, "that we
were obliged to you for being kind to
Katie when she was in perplexity."'
"I knew you as soon as I saw you in
the church," said Katie.
"So I did you," said Mr. Jamieson.
"I wonder a little at that," sho said,
"for I don't find many people have such
a good memory for faces as I have."
"All, but I don't remember every face
I see." ho answered.
You 11 bo or. your way to The Haw-
inuiiia. ouujjfb. .cxjriraui. ;
tie nan ro explain again that ho was
not on his way to The Hawthorns.
me manager thought, "if he were en- J
gaged to Miss Wright he would never be j
so near without going there; even if he
is hereon business he would have turned 1
it so as to go there.
-Mr. .Bertram was by no meansa dunce.
but the idea of Katie having a lover had
never dawned on him; she had had no
lover yet. Mrs. Bertram, with the pride
of fallen fortunes, had not cultivated so
ciety of any kind; Will had attended to
ids business late and early, and had not
cultivated it cither; so Katie was much
in the position of the lovely young La
vinia when the pride of swains crossed
hor nsth.
It was a varm summer evening, and
with the window thrown up they sat and
talked till Mr. Bertram got impatient, for
he had to go to the mill again; and he
wondered how long his guest meant to
stay. One train hour was past and an
other imminent, with no sign of move
ment. At last he said he would run
over to the mill and come back in a little.
Then Mr. Jamieson said they would look
at the garden till he returned, and Katie
went out with their visitor to show the
garden.
Katie, in light summer garments mov
ing about among flowers, showed to
much greater advantage than she did
wrapped in a dark cloakas Mr. Jamie
son had first seen her. She looked very
happy and serene, but she did not talk
much, nor did he. He had meant to sit
in judgment on her, but he could no
more do it than he could fly. She stoop
ed over a flower bed and pulled a pansy.
"See," she said, "if you gaze into that
flower a while you'll catch yourself won
dering it does not speak at least I do
often."
"Thank you," he said, "I'll put it in
my buttonhole. Perhaps it will speak
to me as I go home. You have got ac
quainted with my cousin Sarah, I sup-,
pose?"
J,Yes, a little."
"And how do you like her?"'
''Vmt well: Ehe is frank 3?id kind."'
"And clbiT," he said. "I wondered
how she made such a mistake about you
at Summertown."
Kate blushed and said, "I don't like
to think of it."
"Eut you don't object to my thinking
of it; it is pleasant to remember one's
meritorious actions."
"You must have thought me wicked
for a whole fortnight."
"No, I didn't; I merely suspended my
opinion. Were you far beyond Sum
mertown that day?"
"Not beyond it at all. I was visiting
an old friend of mamma's who lives two
miles to the west of it."
"Then perhaps you don't know the
country farther on?"
"No."
"Justinlee is five miles farther on;
that is where I live and where I was
born. I succeeded my father in the
farm. There are only three of us now
myself and two sisters and they are
both married."
"If you gaze into that flower a wMle.n
"Then do you live alone?" she said,
with an involuntary touch of compas
sion in her tone.
"Yes; do you think that sad?"
"Oh, no, not at all; plenty of people
prefer to live alone. But I shouldn't
like it; it would not suit ue."
"It suits very well till one sees some
person one would like to live with."
"People must love a place very much
where they have been all their lives,"
she said.
"Yes, and I love Justinlee: it is worth
loving. I wish you had seen it; it is an
old house, with additions built to it, not
regular, but very picturesquo, and from
the windows you look over a great
stretch of sea and laud."
"I am sorry," said Will, whohadcomo
up to them through the garden, "that I
was kept longer than I expected."
"Well," said Mr. Jamieson, "I am
sorry that it is time for mo to go. Per
haps if you havo nothing better to do,
you will walk with me to tho station?"
"I shall bo very glad," said Will;
"and, Katie, you might come, too, or
have you been walking today already?
But come, you don't look tired, and it
will do you good."
"Oh, "yes," she said, "I'll go."
When Mr. Jamieson bade Mrs. Ber
tram good-by she said sho hoped he
would call on them again any time that
, j
he was passing to The Hawthorns, which
ho very heartily promised to do, and
said it was likely that he would be often
there in the course of the summer.
The trio wero not far on their way
when whom should they meet driving
but Miss Wright? She saw them ap
proaching, and drew up her horse as she
came near. After they had spoken she
turndd to Mr. Jamieson and said: "No
wonder, James, that you despised my
help: you certainly aro independent of
human aid."
"Yes," he said, "in the matter 'you
spoke of."
"Quite so, in tho matter I spoke of.
How aro your turnips looking?"
"Verj- well indeed; they only need a
shower to be all I could wish."
"I am glad of that. Couldn't you
como up with mo and stay till to-morrow?
I really had no hope of seeing
you till November."
"Thank you, no. not to-night, but I'll
come next week for a day or two."
"Very well," she said, and drove on. i
Mr. Bertram came back, sure that his (
mother was mistaken entirelv as to the '
relations existing between Miss Wright .
uuu .mi. DU.LU1C2UU, .uu ijuc, &iiu
' thought of Mr. Jamieson. her thought t
as yet being like the faintest breathing
on a mirror, but as he came and came j
again his full image rose to tho surface-
and remained there .
One davWill said (for even vet the'
.,..,- ,V ,. . -, !
thing haa not occurred to lnmj: "I won-,
der. Katie, what brines that man here i
to ofton?" i
jvato blushed. "It must bolus own
good pleasure," she answered. i
Will said no more; the matter stood ,
revealed to him at last, and he had a i
queer, stinging feeling that the sister of 1
whom he was so fond."and who had been
about him like one of his own hands j
an njs iife? was weaned away fromliim.
Yet he could liave chosjn nobetter broth-
-in-law, and lie knew it.
On the 10th of October, the anniver-
sary of their first meeting, Mr. Jamie-
i son transferred Katie Bertram to Justin- 1
lee. They went on no wedding tour, pre
ferring to live the memories of the
honeymoon in their own home, and .
postpone, the tour of Europe till they
should grow rich; it is well that people
should been some new nlaaiaxra b&fara '
Sikh 1'A w-sLwcj ML
them to "Dear them up under the' burden
of riches. But the aunt whom Mr.
Jamieson had been on his way to visit
when youth and beauty in distress ap
peared to him, "presented the bride with
a sumptuously bound book of travels
entitled "Forty Days in the Desert" She
must have thought this an appropriate
gift for people entering on the honey
moon, as she repeated it on the occasion
ot Jdiss Wright becoming Mrs. Bertram,
which event occurred in the course of
another year. The presentees enjoyed
the joke; there are times when even a
small joke is as sweet manna in the
well, desert.
Mr. Bertram had before his marriage
got a partnership in the mill, and Mr.
Wright, having bought The Hawthorns,
proposed resigning that place of resi
dence in favor of his daughter and her
husband, but Will declined it; he knew
that being obliged to such a man as Mr.
Wright meant always talcing his advice
when offered, and having it offered very
frequently. Sarah was quite willing to
live in the manager's house till her hus
band could afford a better one. Mrs.
Bertram Senior continued to t live in her
son's house, except when she visited her
daughter; and if, as is said, mothers and
daughters-in-law always disagree, this
case must have been the exception that
proves the rule, for the two ladies agreed
admirably; while Mr. Bertram, by dili
gently holding liis tongue and letting
his father-in-law speak, found much
favor in that gentleman's sight. Mr.
Wright, being the kind of self made man
who thinks when he takes any one by
tho hand that ho makes him too, felt
that when Will became his son-in-law
he, by reason of reflected consequence,
became a man of mark and considera
tion; even Will's dreaming visions of
scientific progress, although Mr. Wright
did not at all approve of tliem, he quoted
to others with pride, but then, as he said,
"Mr. Bertram was a practical man aa
well as a dreamer."
If the ill natured railway clerk hap
pens to see this account of all that hung
upon his disobliging humor, what will
he think? Let him not be encouraged
to do evil that good may come; if Cupid
mado an opportunity out of his ill nature
for shooting an arrow, no thanks to him.
Lippincott's Magazine.
the end.
WHEN I GO HOME.
TFLen I go home, when I ro homo to hitn!
1 like to picturo to myself his way
Of greeting mo, and what his lips shall say
And mine reply; and will his eyes be dim
With iriUt of joy tears? Will my coming bo
As dear a boon to him as ho has dreamed?
Will all the glad bewilderment that seemed
So sweet in fancy find its verity
When I come heme ? Or will some fancied change
Of speech or look or mien the one transform
Who used to wear for him a nameless charm.
Tempering his joy with shadows new and strange?
With shadows darkling for a little space,
And then, O, sweet beyond imagining,
The cadences half sob, half song, will ring
With tho old music, hallowing the place.
My glad heart has no room in it for doubt.
The morning glories clambering at the door,
With leaves and blooms and tendrils leaning o'er,
Flecking the sunshine, cannot keep it out.
I love to fancy the felicities
That shall be mine upon that day of days,
The old endearing names, and tricks of phrase,
And smiles that haunted all my reveries.
If rain or sunshine be, or gloom or gleam,
The day of my return, sweet opulence
Of gladness, flooding mood and circumstance,
Eh nil smile across the mists with roseate beam.
When I go home again! When I go hornet
My feet have stiayed upon these journeyinga,
But my heart never; all my longing clings .
To the old haunts; always my fancies come
Back to the old abiding place to rest,
Howe'er I wander under alien skies.
And find forever there their paradise,
Loves very el answering my heart' s behest.
Rosalind E. Jones in New York Sua.
Good LucU.
Missionaries and others, who live year after
year in foreign countries, are liable to lose
something of their familiarity with their na
tive tongue, aild sometimes to be troubled
about the spelling of very common words.
Au English clergyman, who was also a
voluminous author, was in Paris, where he
made the acquaintance of a kind hearted
Scottish nobleman. This man had lived for
mauy years at the French capital, and know
every one. Tho Englishman quite enjoyed
walking with him in tho Champs Ely&ees. Aa
tk carriages and coursers raced along the
Scotchman was kept continually busy taking
off his hat.
"You ought to know the ambassador," ha
said one day to his new friend. "I will give
you a letter of introduction."
So tho two men sat down, and tho Scotch
man w ent to his writing desk.
"Tin in ltnntwn In know." hn cni1 Ti-ifJi
j rl .., , ....
look of mild inquiry, "how many d's thero
ore in tho word introduce!''
The Oxford graduate, curiouly enough,
did "happen to know," and so the note of in
troduction was written. Youth's Compan
ion. A Treatc of Xature.
A curious freak of nature was recently dis
covered. It i- a slab of Mexican marble
about two feet long and a foot wide, bearing
j upon its face a beautiful mountain landscape,
w inch has in some strange way been pictured
there by nature. It is now in the possession
of CoL A C. Ilawley, formerly adjutant gen
eral of Minnesota, and was given him by
Maj, Knappen, who owns tho quarry in New
Mexico where this was found. The major is
authority for the statement that the picturo
in the marblo is the exact reproduction of
the scenery-cn the tide of the vailey opposite
where the quarry is located. Col. Hawley
explains the curiosity in this way: He says
the river and chfTs must have been photo
graphed on the marble, when it was in a j
plastic condition, by the 'rays of tho sun.
Exchange. '
A Dylnc Man's Lcsmjti.
Wasn't it tunny, by the way, about Pre-1
fessor Younians, of The Popular Science '
hl3 deathand inasted on having hu,
teth all attended to ana new ones nut idi
Evervbodv knew he couldn't live, and the
dentist told him he was having a good deal
of pain and trouble for nothing.
But the
professor intimated pretty strongly it was hi
owtx I)Uiine&s and if was fitting to pay
IWor havmg good th to bo hud oat in,
tne dentist needn't complain. Do you know
faow manT u m brdecavmc
...i. t-I '.,r.. .j.er,. ...., ".
1 : ' ,.,- .j,,., !.
stant drainage of bad matter from an itapar- 1
feet tc-thr two
phia Press.
Shu-ley Dare lnPhfladel- ;
.
A Xew ne for tl;e NlcUel.
I I
Somebody of an ingenious turn of. mind
gives us the raeTic system, "not in a nnt
shell,"' but in aniciceL It is claimed that our
uiciel five cent ptece holds the key to th ,
linear measures and eisbta. Tee diM3e:
of this coin is two centimeters, aad its -weight
five grains.
V a P121 ta. iJro,r
; re tMwp. . , awz
7 1 wo ui iD-ea wm wcjh - ucui...iii& ,-v
the kiolit- is a cubic raster, the key to the
measures of leagtS. it Js al the key to tb
measures of capacity. Aoy person, there
for, who fes fortunate noa jh to otj a fire
rsnt nickel ,ma.r carry in bi p&eket the en
tire metric rs:a cf ftiriiti and meum
INlSliMNGffil
Bj HAKf E. BLAIR.
f 18G9I
the sake
nduced,
of, rest and recreation, to
take charge of a young
American girl during a
tour in Europe. This
young girl was Miss Helen St. Clair, of
Detroit, Mich. We two were by no means
strangers. She had been my pupil since
the time when sho was the prettiest little
creature that ever wore a scarlet hood.
I have a little picture, scarlet hood and
all, that I would not exchange for the
most beautiful one that Greuze ever
painted. Not that her face bore any re-
l-semblance to the pictures of Greuze. It
had neither tho sweet simplicity of the
girl in "The Broken Pitcher," nor the
sentimental graces which ho bestows on
his court beauties. It was an exceeding
ly piquant, animated face, never at rest,
always kindling, flashing, gleaming,
whether with sunlight or lightning. Her
movements wero quick and darting, like
those of a humming bird. Her enuncia
tion, though perfectly distinct, was mar
velously rapid. The same quickness
characterized her mental operations. Her
conclusions, right or wrong, were always
instantaneous. Her prompt decisiveness,
her talent for mimicry and her witchery
of grace and beauty won her a devoted
following of school girls, to whom her
tastes and opinions were as authoritative
as ever were those of Eugenie to the
ladies of her court. School girls, like
college boys, aro very apt in nicknames,
and Helen's was tho "Little Princess,"
which her pretty, imperious ways made
peculiarly appropriate.
I do not know how her parents dared
trust her to me for a year beyond the sea,
but they did. We set oif in high enthu
siasm, and Helen was full of mirth and
laughter till we were fairly on board the
steamer in New York harbor, when sho
threw herself on her father's breast with a
gesture of utter abandonment that would
have made tho fortune of a debutante on
any stage in the world. It was so un
looked for that wo all broke down, and
Mr. St. Clair was strongly inclined to
take her home with him. But so sudden
was she in all her moods that his foot
had scarcely touched the shore before she
was again radiant with anticipation.
I will not linger on tho pleasant sum
mer travel, the Rhine majesty, the Al
pine glory. September saw us established
in the city of cities Paris. Every
where we had met throngs of Ameri
cans. Neighbors from over tho wa in i
our own city greeted us warmly in most
unexpected places. But we had not
crossed the ocean merely to see our own
countrymen. In Paris wo were deter
mined to eschew hotels and pensions
and to become the inmates of a French
home. Everybody told us this would bo
impossible, but I find nothing so stimu
lating as the assertion that a thing can't
be done. Two weeks of eager inquiry
and wo were received into a family which
couiu not nave oeen more to our wish
if it had been created expressly for us.
It was that of M. Le Fort, a profes
sor in the medical colle0e, a hand
some elderly man with the bit of red
ribbon coveted by Frenchmen in his but
tonhole. Mme. Lo Fort, a charming,
graceful woman midway between 'JO
and 30, and a pretty daughter of 17,
completed the family. With great sat
isfaction wo took possession of the pretty
rooms, all white and gold, that over
looked the Rond Point des Champs Ely
sees. My little princess had found a prince
in her own country, and, considering the
laws of attraction, his sudden appearance
in Paris ought not to have been a sur
prise to her. But, to his discomfiture,
and even anger, Ilelen refused to see
him. She had bidden him good-by at
home, she said: thev would not be mar-
ried for three- years, if they ever were; j
she was going to devote herself to her j
music; and sue uiu not wisn to see mm
here. When he had completed his stud
ies and their engagement was announced
(it was onlv a mutua; understanding
now) thero would be time enough to see !
each other at home. Excellent reason- I
imr! but a fortnight later a tiny hand
slipped between my eyes and The Fig- j
aro a little note on which I read:
"Dear Friend I think I should like
to say good-by again.
"Yours, Helen."
The dark eyes looked half shyly, half
coaxingly into mine.
"Well," said I, "Katrine will mail it
for you."
The next day I saw for the first time
Mr. Frederic Denliam. He was tall and
slpndpr. with a sallow comolexion. rath
er dull grav eyes and black hair, by no
means handsome, but sufficiently well j
looking to please a friendly eye.
Tn hit
manners there was a coklnes3 and
serve which passed for haughtine;.
re- j
He 1
was said to xossess great talents and am
bition, and Helen had the fullest belief
in his genius and success. Not Goetho j
himself was a greater man in her eyes.
I liad frsouent oDPortunitifes of sfling
them together, for. according to French
ideas, nothing Is more improper than to
leave a young man and woman a mo- j
ment by themselves. Was it my fancy
that he seemed too much absorbed in '
himself, too little sensible of the rare
trood fortune which made him the fa-
Tored lover of the beautiful 31U St.
Clair.' It might foe so, bur others snarea it.
"What ails the American? aefced
Mme. ! Fort. "Is it possible that h-
is notin love with that fascinating young
creature? Or are all your countryman
so cold and inanimate? Eile est ravis
sante, adorable! I cannot comprehend
it."
"Probably,'" I replied, "he hts too
much reserve and delicacy to make a
display of his feelings in the prsance of
strangers."
But I was not sackfk-d. The more I
watched thm, the more I psroeired a
lack of deference to her opinions and re
spect for her judgment an irritatlnpr
aHim prion of superior wudoai, aa If h J
bad worn tho vkible icsenptfon. I wili
't Off
accept homage, but not suggestions.
Offer incense and be content." Would
the little princess be content? I saw
symptoms of rebellion.
"Do you think I am a little fool, Mme.
Fleming?" she asked with "heightened
color and impetuous tone, turning sud
denly to me whilo they were conversing
apart one evening.
November came, and we wero launch
ed on the full tide of Parisian society.
Mr. Denham had gono to Germany to
complete certain scientific studies, and
he left his fair betrothed with a parting
injunction not to dance with any for
eigner. As well shut her up in a cell!
Nowhere is there such a furore for danc
ing as in Paris. Every family has its
weekly reception, and every card of in
vitation bears in the corner, "On dan
sera." These receptions are tho freest
and gayest imaginable. Any person who
has the entree of tho house comes when
he feels inclined. Introductions are not
indispensable as with us; any gentleman
may ask & lady to dance with htm,
whether he has been formally presented
or not, and it would be an affront to de
cline except for a previous engagement.
The company assemble about 10, and
often dance till 8 or 4 in tho morning.
In any one house we see nearly the same
people onco a week for the whole win
ter, and such frequent companionship
gives a feeling of intimacy. It is sur
prising now many trench men and
French women have some special artis
tic talent, dramatic or musical, and with
what ready good humor each contributes
to the entertainment of the rest. In
every assembly, with all its sparkle of
youth and gayety, there is a background
of mature age: but though a card room
is generally open, it never seems to draw
many from tho salons de danse.
In these salons the little princess en
tered at once upon her royalty. Her
dancing was the poetry of motion. She
sang, and the most brilliant men hung
over her enraptured. "Sho was like
Adeliua PattI " they said, "but of a moro
perfect and delicate typo of beauty.
What wonderful eyes, with tho long
thick lashes, veiling Oriental depths of
liquid light! How the miiaic trickled
from her fingers and poured from her
small throat like the delicious warble of
a nightingale! What a loss to art that
her position precluded her from singing
in the opera! Not Malibran or Grisi
ever had triumphs that would equal
hers." Eminent painters wished to make
a study of her face. Authors who had
received the prizes of the Academy for
grave historical woks 6ent ber adulatory
verses. "May I flirtation will you
loavcly meess?" asked ono of "the im
mortal forty," displaying his English.
It grew rather annoying. I was im
portuned with questions, such as: "Will
you receive proposals of marriage for
Miss St. Clair?" "What is her dowry?"
"Are you intrusted to find a husband
for her abroad?" I was tired of answer
ing, "Miss St. Clair will probably marry
in her own country." "Her parents
would be very reluctant to consent' to
any foreign marriage." "I cannot tell
what Mr. St. Clair will give his daughter.
It is not the custom to give dowries with
us, as with you.
One evening we saw at Mme. Le Fort's
reception a young man so distinguished
in appearance that ho was known as "lo
beau Vergniaud." He was six foot in
height and well made, with abundant
chestnut hair, dark hazel eyes, clearly
cut, regular features and a complexion
needlessly fine for a man. From that
time he was invariably present, not only
at Mme. Lo Fort's, but wherever we
went.
One day Helen said to me, "I made a
silly speech last evening. I was dancing
with M. Vergniaud anu we were talkiuj
of that charming Mme. do Lauimy. I
6aid, 'I should think; sue might be nappy,
having an elegant house in Paris, a cha
teau in the country, and such a hand
some husband so devoted to her.' And
he rejoined instantly, very low, My dear
Miss St. Clair, can I not givo you all
this?' It was not fair to take advantage
of me in that way."
"What did you say?"
"Oh, I laughed it off. I did not think
he was in earnest, but he spoko to me
again before ho went away."
That afternoon Mme. Lo Fort came
into my room with the look of ono who j
has something important to communi
cate. "I have been wishing to see you,"
she said. "M. Vergniaud lias taken me
into his confidence. He has formed a
serious attachment to Mis St. Clair, and
wishes to make her his wife. It is a
splendid alliance," she continued, warni-
lntr with her theme: "if he hnd nuked
for my daughter I would give hf r to him j
blindfold. He belongs to 0115 of our old
families. You should wee his hoiibo on
the Avenue do Montaigne. Have you
never soon him driving with hi3 superb
horses in the Boi3 do Boulogne? He
has an estate with a fine old chateau in
Touraine, a family inhuritanca. Hi
character and habits aro unexcoptioa-
ble, too." she addwl by way of jmrenthe
sis. -,it is not 01 ten
tliat in a man of 2G.
that you thul ail
So handsome be-
sides!''
Tmp" uii I. "but von fnrcot Mr. I
Denham." " 1
"On the contrarv, I remember him
too well to conceive the possibility of life j
being a rival to Rene Vergniaud."
"But did you mention him to M.
Vergniaud?"
"Yes. and he was greatly disturbed at
fi"U but when I told him that h had no
expectation of marryins; for two orthr
years to come, ne laiigneu ami haiu 11
'aj of no importance. M. Vorj;niaiid
would like to be married in a few weeh,
as is the custom with uv but T mr'
it will take longer to adjust tho proiimi
nanes on account of her parent being
vcross the Atlantic What dowry ho
sny littlo jewel?" (The inevitable que5
rion, always put with as much simplicity
ind directness an if ono were asking the
jme of day.)
"I do not know" I replied. "It is k
contrary to all our notion. I do not .
think there is a man in .America who in
isktng a father for th hand of bi
daughter would inquire how much mon
ey he was to hav& with br.
be considered an malt."
It woeM j
j
"Perhaps 3Ir. St. Clair wgaW prefer to
fettle an annuity on h dawgJsfcsr. 1&
that the way the thing is managed ia
your country?"'
"It is not managed si alL A man givps
his daughter what he likes, or he gives
her nothing but hr bridal outai. It Jj
never a condition of the marriage.
"Kow strange all that hi On can
hardly bdieve it in France. We jt by a
sum of money for Clarico'sdowrralcioet
as oon as he was born. a4 it woM be
a ban! n&coftstty that could compel us to I
diminish it by a siagfct sou. If you would j
ltfc ft. in a oeaple of deja I oan girt y I
aa exact inventory of aB M. Vtrgnh.ud's
property and possessions. I coulcl gaa
anteo that it will not vary twenty napo
leons from, tho fact. Wo do everything
so systematically here."
"Thanks! I think it will hardly bt
necessary. I do not know that Helea
likes him particularly;,,
"Nobody admires that little paragon
moro than I I should he frantically ia
love with her if I were a man but ha
had beter think twice before rejecting
such a parti as Rene Vergniaud, espe
cially if she has no dowry. You will
surely not permit her to do so without
communicating with her father? He will
understand her interests better."
"In this case I shall let her do just M
she pleases, &3 her father would if ho
were here."
Essssafc.
"J shall Ut her dojHst as she pleas."
Mme. Lo Fort's look of atuazed in
credulity w as truly comical. What ought
I to do? I queried. On tho whole, I de
cided to do the easiest thing wait.
The next day I was honored with a
call from M. Vergniaud. Ho believed
that Mme. Lo Fort liad spoken to mo ot
his profound attachment to the lovely
Miss St. Clair tho most passionate, the
most devoted. Might ho hope for my
influenco with her father and mother?
Tho matter of dowry was indifferent to
him: his income was sutliciently large,
and, alas! ho had no parents to consult.
Would I favor him with Mr. St. Clair'a
address and a few words of introduction
to him? He should be under everlasting
obligations to me, and if there was any
thing he cculd do to show his gratitude,
his appreciation
I interrupted these protestations: "I
doubt if Mr. St. Clair would consent to
any marriage which would separate him
from his daughter, however advantage
ous it might bt in other respect."
"My dear madame, who asks it? I
havo no business or profession; wo could
easily spend a part of every year in Amer
ica if it wero desirable."
"That would certainly make it easier,
but it will bo letter to defer writing till
I wo havo some intimation of Miss St.
. Clair's sentiments. Her father will bo
! guided chiefly by hor inclination."
! "It is a nice country for young girls,
! America,"' said he with a trniile. "I shall
j do all that is possible to win Miss St.
j Clair's favor, for life would be worthless
without her." And he bowed himself
gracefully out.
Is it possible that Ilelon will bo indif-
! fercnt to this young Antinout.' thought
I. Poor Mr. Dnhnm would have email
chance with me if I wero in her place.
An hour later the concierge sent up to
me an exquisite bouquet of violets aud
white caaiflhus, with tlw card of Rune
Vergniaud and a folded note: "If .Mme.
Fleming tloos not think it improper, will
she be so kind as to givo thcbe flower to
my beautiful queonr"
M. Vergniaud had asked Mme. Le
Fort's (eruiiasion to call on Mi& St.
Clair. "Certainly not," she replied. "I
am astounded at such presumption! But
you may call to sou ma. To-morrow even
inp: wuiro to the opera, and Wednesday
i to Mme. PuriwX and Thurstiav is my
reception, and rnuay we have tiokots to
"Phodre" at the Francaih. Saturday,
then; it is the first ovoning we havo
free."
We wero all assembled in the Falon aa
usual after dinner, when M. Vergniaud
was announced. The littlo princoM wiw
radiant. Sho hnd novor been merrier in
a school girl frolic or more ready with
gibe and jest and laiighu.tr. Shy suntt
her beat songs, putting hor whole fotil
into them "Si tu savaia comme jo
nime. Rone vorgmaud was ro dnzinl
tjmt ho came nour bidding farowoll to
his tunaes forever. II pvuluntly thought
that all thia brilliancy wan for him, and
was in such a rapturo of delight that lie
never noticed Mine. Lo Fort'f rupealed
glances at thu clock, and wan only routed
by the polite invitation to como again.
He wan not too diaconcurtod to make a
chnrutiiiK apology, likw a tmo Parisian,
aml tore htnitelf .'
Late an it was. 1
away.
h toou an wo woro In
our own little parlor I could not forbjar
Baying: "Iwa aurprfoMi at you to-night.
Helen. How could you run on so?
Mme Le Turc therr. too! and you know
thi youitfc French iHrls nvr opoa thoir
lipa to aoy moro than Oui. mondcur'
'Non. iwttwiir.' to a gntl'jmnn. What
will M. Vrgntaid ihiokT
. Cl,1! " what he thinks." fliagiosr
ber&eir dow-? on an ottoman wicn in-r
head in ray lap; "but I do jarj what
von think. Mms. Fleming. DkI I Ur-
''ftv bo very bndly? I didn't wc.mi U;
tat I wan rwolvod ho nhoukl not get a
chance to Uiik any oonmat-i to-clght
and he dwl, after alL I hate bing mado
s love to before a whole roomfuL I had
j to laagh or ehm err.7 And tho lib
j fairy dwaoivwi m a bowr of tyars, like
! another Undin.
Another wk wnt by. On Safcordaj
' afternoon Ilekui Jktil: "Will you bo so
I kind as to tak me to the httlo Protest
ant church beyond the Aro d'Etoile thhi
yvemiip. Mine. Fleming? 1 should like
j so utoob to ber tlat good M. lircter?
"So nh'MUl U But you liar cot tor
i gotten thai M. Ysrgniood will b )uti."
"I atn uader no obltatiooj to eaUrr
tam Mai. Lv Fort's tailors."
"Pot yoo know, Helen, that ho com
j for yocur tsds. H is well far you to on-
woer tftr. um
future Mint-L Vrzkiud
wii! haT m soro rsp-cta a mor brill-
mv jwnuoa itaa prapa suxy tn&n In
our country cooid ofter you."
I kijow all that, aad I ilftn't nrnLnnA
to say that I should not Hk it. 1 am
ashamed of fearac m or Id Jr. but t
have a mptrb Ub!ishia43t axuj si this
charming Pritan boowrtr, and giTe a
grand SjrH -vcfomerer I Hkcxi. w&uld L-
j0i paradisft. And Jo have It all In my
grasp, and not b &bU to lake it, i too
sggrawstMtjf. U L o rtsxmitom that th
right man rrr bs th right thmgs."
W went to church. M. Vcrgnlsad
call!, bet recollect an tfiigagsnt
which teok him away early. Monday
evening h dropped la again junt ultr?
dtann "Do not let n? derxo rott in
the !& je tw on ori. taadam I
eosse early fcaaatii am xtsml to tore '
bfls to-ckt.p
iffefc Be CSafr couW hardly bxvc betrn
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