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HOLLY OAK JOURNAL /S' VOL 1, No, 1. HOLLY OAK, DELAWARE, FEBRUARY, 1889. TWO CENTS. THE BLUE AND THE GRAY. 'Tis the day of the conflict ; in battle array Stand the waiting combatants—the blue and the Gray. From the green pasture-lands comes the lowing of herds From the forest's deep shadows the music of birds. In warm, golden splendor the sun's slanting rays Lie over the broad fields of ripening maize. A little brook gurgles by hedge-row and thistle; A quail makes his plaint in a soft, mellow whistle. Ail nature is peaceful ; yet here, face to face, They meet for the contest—these souls of one race! The Gray waits serenelv in abatised strength— eä Just there, on the edge of the meadow, they meet, An attack, - harp and sudden—a noise-—what is this ? A report ?—it is only a true lover's kiss ! 'Tis a glorious capture—and thus ends the fray— His eyes are blue eyes, and her eyes are gray. Eva Best , in Detroit Free Press. The Way to Win Him. BY E. g. j. "Will you never learn," said Mrs. Wall lingford, angrily, addressing her daughters, Clara and Augusta, "to be dressed in time for morning callers? This is not the first occasion I've had to speak of it." "Nor will it be the last," answered Clara, pertly. "It doesn't pay to dress so soon, especially when one isn't sure anybody will call. The footman told Mr. Murray to wait." "But gentlemen don't like to be kept waiting. Nothing disgusts them more. And the catch of the season, too ! It's useless frr me to work and plan for you, if you act in this way." Clifford Murray, the hero of our story, possessed every advantage that man could desire. ' ! I He was young, eminently handsome,finely educated, and the heir to large estates, Murray House, his fathers residence, was one of those fine old mansions that still linger here and there, as mementoes of the past, even in New York ; it was grand and sumptuous, in a stately way, quite different from anything that is built nowadays ; and it was adorned everywhere, with works of the rarest beauty and costliness. It was principally for his sake that Mrs. Walling ford had issued cards for what she intended should be the ball of the winter. No ( wonder then she lost her temper, when she : found, the morning he called, that the niece she had taken in from charity, had acci- j dentally met Mr. Murray, and proved to be ! an old acquaintance. But for the dilatoriness of her daughters, she said to herself, this would not have hap pened ; and though Clara and Augusta laughed at the idea of rivalry on the part of Ethel, Mrs. Wallingford was not quite so sure of their superiority. But let us go back and tell how it all happened. Clifford Murray was going up the broad walk that led to the imposing front entrance of the Wallingford's, and was admiring the gorgeous green-house bloom and tropical splendor that met his eye on every side, when his attention was suddenly arrested by the sound of a woman's voice, or a girl's voice, rather, singing a simple but most exquisite strain. He was an ardent lover of music, and paused involuntarily, at the base of the marble steps, and listened, while the clear, liquid notes floated out on the frosty air. He thought it the sweetest voice he had ever heard—and he smiled unconsciously in his delight. Just at this moment, the drawing-room window flew up and a tuft of feathers flut tered in and out, and the wondrous singing seemed much nearer than before. Clifford Murray was a gentleman, but for the life of him he could not refrain from looking up, and as he did he so, a pair of very brown eyes looked down, and the sing ing ceased all of a sudden. "Why dear me !" cried a pretty plaintive voice. "Wait just one moment, please, Mr. Murray Mr. Murray ran up the steps, and the door was opened as he reached it. "Good morning Mr. Murray!" said the as same pretty voice. "You have forgotten me no doubt; but I remember you. Walk in, please.' -I — *-** ,ht •*—* - b ' came," continued his companion smoothing down a pair of very dainty cuffs as she spoke, He walked in, and seated himself amid the splendors of the Wallingford drawing of room. "and the drawing-room is a little cold. Won't you sit closer to the fire?" Murray was at his wit's end. This was neither of the Misses Wallingfords he had seen on his first call. Who could it be? He looked at her narrowly. A trim, grace ful figure in deep black, save the spotless white at the throat and wrists, and the sweetest young face, and the brighest, sunniest hair his eyes had ever beheld. She looked up and her brown eyes twinkled. "Ah, you have quite forgotten me, Mr. Murray ?" she said mischievously. Clifford Murray cudgeled his memory as he never did before. Presently a sudden flash "No I haven't !" he exclaimed rising to his feet. "You are Ethel Willoughby, the rector's daughter. lit his gray eyes. The young lady smiled, and extended her 'Miss Willoughby," he continued, "I am very glad to meet you. How is your hand. worthy father, and my old friends ?" I Her eyes filled with tears immediately. He saw his mistake in an instant. "Forgive me," he entreated, glancing at her mourning robes. "1 did not think ; and I have pained you so-" "No, no!" she replied, struggling bravely *° r command; "It roes not pain me. * l° ve to speak of poor papa; it is the greatest pleasure I have ; but sometimes it comes so sudden." "Ah ! I often look back to those happy evenings at the old parsonage. How long since ?" He paused, fearing to give her pain. ''Over ( a year now," she replied quietly, and I have : no t been home since. Auntie took me away immediately after poor papa's death, and she j j s s0 goo d an d kind ; but I do so long for ! my 0 [d home, This city life is so dull and prosy, I think. Do you know," she added with a sudden smile, that made her face fairly dazzling, "that I grow weary for want of work, Mr. Murray—a plebian instinct that must be uprooted, Aunt Wallingford says, and I dare say she knows." Mr. Murray laughed and made some pleasant response, which Ethel failed to hear for she started up exclaiming, "But, dear me, I had quite forgotten ! you call to see my cousins, no doub'; and here 1 sit appropriating your visit to myself, Here Sanford, take this Pray excuse me. card to the young ladies, and tell them Mr Murray is in the drawing-room. "My dear Miss Willoughby," said Clif ford, as the servant left, "you mistake. If I had dreamed of finding you her< But Ethel cut him short. "Not a bit of compliment, please, Mr. Murray," she laughed. "I don't appreciate it at all, and we are old acquaintances, too." "So we are," responded Clifford, heartily, " and on the strength of that I am going to ask a favor. Will you sing for me the ballad you were singing when I came?" She went to the piano without a word, and began to sing in a voice as sweet as the note of a nightingale. Clifford was enraptured, but his pleasure was of short duration, for she had scarcely ended the first stanza, when Mis. Wallingford came bustling in, with a loot ot such utter surprise on her face, that the young man found it hard work to main tain his gravity, "Why, my dear, why Ethel !" she began, as soon as she had given M . Murray a gushing welcome, "what is this? You surely *r >•»», —***■ continued the lady, with an anxious, angry light ir, her eyes, "Oh, auntie, 1 cried Ethel, as she rose from the piano, "I used to know Mr. Mur ray when he was at college ; he was a ffiend of dear papa's, that's all." Ethel glanced down at her neat apparel with artless surprise. "I did not think of that," s he said, innocently, "but it doesn't signify, Mr. Murraj called on my cousins you know. I bid you good morning, Mr. Murray." She left the drawing-room with a grave courtesy as she spoke. Clifford Murray was guilty of the gross impoliteness of staring after her, to the utter neglect of wh.it his at that moment her daughter; sailed in. F resh from a hurried toilet, as the most unobservant eye could see at a glance, and overdressed for the occasion, yet very hand some and showy girls withal. Mr. Murray hostess was saying. Mrs- Wallingford grew very red, and the angry light in her eyes deepened, and just did the devoted gallant to the letter, and ex ressed his pleased anticipation in regard to the approaching ball; but despite his pleasant manner, he was heartily glad when the call was ended. And walking back to Murray House, he found his memory wandering back to his college days, and to the quiet evenings he was wont to spend in the little library at the old parsonage; and he marveled within himself that he had not sooner recognized Ethel Willoughby, having thought so much of her in the intervening years. The Wallingfords' ball was a great suc cess. The Misses Wallingford were abso lutely too dazzling for d scription. To play the agreeable to both at the same time, thought our hero, would be rather a weari some task. But Mamma Wallingford was too skillful a diplomatist to put him in such a dilemma. "I shall leave you to entertain Mr. Murray, Clara, my love," she said when the salutations of the evening were over. "Come, -'-ugusta, I promised to present you to Mr. Falkland." waltzed.he promenaded,he talked all manner And fairly white with anger and disap poi"tment, Augusta was forced to obey, while her elder sister sailed off with the prize. Mr. Murray did his utmost to be agreeable. He of pretty nonsense—and Miss Wallingford was in the third heaven of triumphant bliss. His eyes wan But not so her companion, fibred, an< ^ h* s heart belied the words hi3 tor.gue spoke. At last, when patience began to desert him, he ventured to ask if Miss Willoughby was well ? She was quite well, Miss Wallingford said. "But I do not see her," hesitated Clifford. The young lady arched her lovely brows in well-bred sur 'No, mamma could not induce her prise. to come down ; she has an idea that it isn't proper to dance so soon after her bereave ment. She's an odd kind of a child you know, Mr. Murray," added the beauty con fidentially. "Mamma is really worn out with efforts to improve her ; but they seem to effect nothing." The ball went on with its glittering throng of dancers, and its bewildering music, but, for Clifford, much of the interest and enjoy ment was gone. Other girls than Clara and Augusta strove to attract his attention. But, though he was well-bred to all, he was impressed by none. Every face had the same stereotyped look, of which he was tired ; that look half of dis content, half of envy, which prevails so in fashionable society, innocent face of Ethel, rose up before him continually. He remembered how it had fascinated him in other days. In his memory all through those long years, had lived a portrait. It was that of a young girl dressed in white, sitting musing. He had surprised her in that position one day, and he had never entirely forgotten the picture. It was inno cence and loveliness enshrined in one. Often and often it had come up to him in his student days abroad. It was the same face now, only more matured, and, there fore, even more beautiful. Full of this memory, he stepped out into the garden, for the glare and noise of the ball began to jar on him. Pacing up and down the fragrant walks, he saw an open casement high above him, and a fair, sweet face, and still girlish figure, dimly defined in the uncertain light. It was Ethel, he knew. But the figure disappeared imme diately, and the light was put out. Clifford was punctual in making his "party call" at the Wallingfords. But he failed to see Ethel. He had asked for "the ladies," as was proper, but only Mrs. Wall, ingford and her daughters appeared. When he ventured to inquire "if Miss Willoughby was well," the elderly lady replied, "yes," indifferently, and let the subject drop. Again and again Clifford called, but nearly always with the same result. If he saw Ethel at all, it was when he surprised her practicing in the parlors. These interviews soon came to be the great objects of his life. They were always the result of accident, but he regarded them as triumphs, and went away thinking of every word Ethel said, and how she looked ; and on this food he lived till he saw the sweet girl again. Once or twice he overtook her in the street, and attended her home. She was always the same, innocent, fresh and unpretending, attired with striking simplicty and neatness ; in all things the greatest possible contrast to her dashing, insincere, fashionable cousins. It was this difference that won Clifford's heart. He was heartily tired of the shams of polite society ; of the managing mammas, and the scheming daughters and the very frankness and naturalness of Ethel was a charm that was irresistible. Ethel little suspected,the conquest she was making. She remembered Clifford as the friend of her childhood ; she always felt pleased to see him; nay, in secret, she began unconsciously, to think of him a good deal ; but she had no idea that she was falling in love, or that Clifford was in love with her. Pure, innocent darling ! There are a dozen Claras or Augustas where there is one Ethel. At last Clifford determined on a coup d'etat. Convinced that the Wallingfords were deliberately keeping Ethel away from him, he drove to the house, one morning, quite early, and boldly asked for Miss Willoughby. "Miss Willoughby done took a long walk this morning," said the old black woman, who answered the bell, for it was too soon for the fine footman to be about. "Sun never catches her in bed." "Then ask her to come down, please." And in one brief moment Ethel came, neat, fresh and smiling, with a sparkle in her brown eyes, and a rose-bud in her bright hair. Clifford held out both hands to wel come her. "Sit down, Mr. Murray, please," she said, "my cousins are not up yet." "I am not calling upon your cousins, Miss Willoughby, my carriage is at the door," ( Continued on Fourth Page.) The fresh, sweet,