KALPH WALDO EMERSON. THE SCHOOL OF PHILOSOPHY IN THE CHAPEL, ORCHARD GROUNDS, CONCORD.-SEE PAGE 101. AT THE wind was blowing a gale outside, and the rain and hail pattered threateningly against the windows; but the little group gathered round the glowing grate-fire in the pleasantest of libraries could afford to clap their hands and laugh at every fresh gust of wicked old Boreas. They were all housed for the night. Everything about them was cheery and comfortable-so comfortable that it is scarcely strange that the younger members of the group thought very little of the sufferings of the houseless. Harry Win chester was sixteen-a bright, intelligent young man who adored his mother, and was unusually fond of his two sisters, Maud and Kate; the former twelve years old, while Kate, the sunbeam of the family, was eight. The girls were engaged in a game of checkers. Harry sat on a hassock by his mother's side, and his head rested in her lap, as gazed they silently into the fire. "A terrible night for the poor!" said mamma, at last, with shiver. "Awful," said Maud, crowning her sister's man BAY. and Harry laughed in spite of themselves at the girl's quickness of repartee. "But what is the use, mamma, of thinking of things that you can't help ?—I mean, poor people." "I suppose," put in Harry, "that if all the rich people in the world would really do all they can for the poor, there wouldn't be any poverty at all. "Not so much, of course," replied Mrs. Winchester; "but there are very few of us, I fear, who do all we can. as she spoke; AT BAY. I SNATCHED THE POKER FROM THE FIRE, AND, ARMED WITH THE IRON AT WHITE "Um, um, um !" laughed Harry. "You'll have to send Maud to some other school, mamma. Her 'aren'ts' and 'orfuls' are something really extraordinary." "Extraordinary, Master Harry," replied Maud, with perfect good nature, "means more than ordinary, and more than ordinary means better than others. So you have complimented me, after all, by the use of an improper word." I want to do my share, but such a storm as this always sets me won dering if I really have or not. I know by experience what it is to mother's knee and gazed at her in silent wonder. "You poor and "You, mamma ?" spoke Maud, at last. cold and hungry? Why, mamma, I thought we were always rich." "I knew better than that," said Harry; "but I had no idea it was so bad. Tell us something about it, won't you, please?" "A storm like this," said the lady, "always takes me back to a night in Minnesota, fifteen years ago this very Winter. At that time your father and Harry, who was then a little over a year old, and myself, lived in a log cabin "Good for Maud !" said Kate, while Mrs. Winchester three miles from the nearest neighbor. We started West from Massachusetts, where we both were born, you know, against the advice and wishes of all of our friends; but your father was not at that time in very robust health, and his physician advised him to go to Minnesota. We had a little money, and with this bought a few acres of land, and partially stocked it. At first we had two workmen employed, and as the men-folks were never far from the cabin, I seldom felt afraid. For the first few months everything went on admirably. Your father's health improved, and, lonely as it was, we grew to like the place more than at first I had supposed it possible. Scarcely a day passed but one or more Indians called upon us, but they were friendly, and a little rice, a bit of sugar, or a cast-off garment sufficed to keep them all in good humor." "But you didn't give something to all the Indians that called upon you, did you?" inquired Kate, who had now drawn close to her side. "Yes, always some little thing. Sometimes they would bring a haunch of venison or some game to exchange for sugar and rice and meal, and we were usually glad to accommodate them. We were told, when we first arrived in Minnesota, that it would never do to turn them away without the gift of some little thing, and we found it was so. I was always very careful also to be cordial in my greetings, without appearing to be over-hospitable, for the Indians are sure to discover anything that savors of putting-on for the occasion. As I was saying, for several months we got along exceedingly well, and then a change came. A disease broke out among the cattle, and in almost every case proved fatal. Then we were obliged to discharge our hired men, and manage as well as we could alone. This made it very hard, and very dangerous for ne. It was at this time that we suffered for the common necessaries of life. Your father caught a terrible cold in his heroic endeavors to save his cattle, and was confined to the house for a month with a low fever that was exceedingly distressing for both of us. What cattle remained I had to feed. All the wood we burned I was obliged to cut. It had been hauled into the shed and sawed, but not split, and this was by no means the hardest thing I had to do." the most perfect quiet-or, rather, I should have enjoyed it had it not been for a constant anticipation of evil. I supposed this was occasioned by my dread of the Indians -a dread I never was able to conquer. It was very seldom that I saw a brave or a squaw approach, and they never made any noise. "The first thing I would know the latch would softly lift, and an Indian would stand before me. My first visitor was Deerskin-a brave at least seven feet high and large in proportion. Harry was asleep in my arms when he entered, and folding his blanket around him, surveyed me from the corner of the room. I laid the baby in the cradle, and, after carefully saluting him, proceeded to the preparation of some corn-dodgers, which I knew he was very partial to. I was also very hungry, and being in excellent health, was able to eat and digest the coarse stuff without the slightest trouble. "When I had finished baking them, I passed an old tin plate with several of the dodgers upon it to Deerskin. The reason I gave him the oldest dish I had was because the Indians always take away with them whatever dish is placed before them. "nerally I gave them whatever I desired them to have in a paper or on a piece of board, but the dodgers were greasy, and, besides, I knew Deerskin would be pleased with the tin. "Good squaw,' he remarked, after eating the last one. Squaw give brave more.' "I filled the tin again and passed it as politely as I would have done to a Crown Prince. "Good squaw,' he said again; 'no more.' "And then he commenced a series of groans and strange noises, which I decided after a moment were made in imitation of some wild animal. "Do you mean wolves, Deerskin?' I asked, when he finished. "He nodded his head gravely, but with satisfaction, and I knew that this was what he meant. Then he made a motion before the windows and door, which was intended to warn me in regard to fastenings, and then left the cabin without another word. watched him cross the fields. "Oh, mamma !" exclaimed the children, in chorus. "My first impulse was to run after him and ask him to "Never mind, now," said the lady. "It was doubtless remain with me till my husband returned; but then I the best experience I could have had, hard as it was. It knew that I should be almost as afraid of him as of the brought out the weak points in my character and devel-wolves, so with a sensation of relief hard to describe I oped them. I do not regret it, my dears, and you must not. The day preceding the evening I am going to tell you about had been more trying than usual. It seemed to me that a whole tribe of Indians had visited the cabin, the first one arriving before we were out of bed. We had a little corn-meal in the closet and a part of a very reasty ham. Flour, sugar, molasses, and even our salt, had given out, and it became necessary for your father to go to the nearest settlement to make some purchases. He was not able to, but there seemed no alternative, and so I helped harness our only remaining horse, who was about as able to make the journey as his master. "I shall be home long before night,' said your father, as he drove away, and I advise you to keep the door locked. I shall feel better to know that you are not entertaining any of these confounded, treacherous redskins.' "I laughed, and promised to do the best I could, sure that this advice was by no means wise. I had seen enough of these strange creatures to know that a door locked against them would be productive of the worst possible results. So I concluded to do as I thought best under these most peculiar and trying circumstanos. "Some squaws dropped in in the course of the afternoon, but they had nothing to say about wolves, and I made up my mind that Deerskin might be mistaken in regard to their nearness. I was expecting your father every minute, but seven o'clock came and he had not arrived. "I thought of the wolves, and was frantic with terror. Oh, how hard it was to remain quiet in this little but in the wilderness, and reflect that even then my husband might be dead or dying, and the one who would have given her life to save his at any moment unable to render him the slightest service." "I shouldn't think you'd think that was good for you," said Kate, breaking in upon the story, her sweet eyes full of tears. "No doubt it was, my dear, or I should not have had to bear it," her mother replied, taking the child's little hand in hers and kissing it fondly. "Well," she resumed, "ten o'clock came, and I was still alone. I sang and told stories to Harry in order to keep him awake, for the stillness and suspense was more than I could bear. The dear little fellow would fall off to "For two hours after your father's departure I enjoyed sleep once in a while in spite of my efforts, and then I listened with my ear to the window until it seemed as if my heart would leap from my mouth. "I had fastened the outside shutter as well as I could, but I found there was a flaw in one of the hinges that made it a little insecure. The window was also fastened on the inside, and our only door was barred and bolted. "About eleven o'clock I heard a noise which at first seemed like the sound of wagon-wheels. Then it ceased as suddenly, and I knew I was mistaken. The agony of that moment can never be described, nor the horror of the next one, when I heard, just at the front of the cabin, a growling and groaning similar to that made by Deerskin in the afternoon. For a "Then I knew that the wolves were upon us. moment, but only for a moment, I was like one stupefied. Your father had taken his rifle with him, and there wasn't under the roof a weapon that I could use. "I had just been singing 'Little Tommy Tucker' to Harry, who preferred this to anything in 'Mother Goose,' when I first heard the growling. I threw him into his cradle, and looked about me for something to fight with. A long poker stood by the fire, and this, withont the slightest idea of what I should do with it, I plunged into the red-hot coals. "I was not a moment too soon, for presently the wooden shatter flew back, and a wolf-a horrible, openmouthed, blood-curdling creature-stared me in the face. In a moment a pane of glass was shivered into atoms. One more moment, and not only this wolf, but a hundred more, if I judged by the noise, would occupy the cabin. I snatched the poker from the fire, and thrust the tongs into the hottest place, and then, armed with the iron at white heat, I proceeded to wolf number one. "As the monster opened his horrible jaws, I thrust the poker into his throat. He fell, and another wolf took his place. Oh! would the tongs be hot by the time I needed them, and how should I get from the window to the fire in time to prevent the bloodthirsty animals from entering? Five wolves were driven away by the poker, and four, I was sure, had been killed. "For the moment there was a lull in hostilities, and just as I was making up my mind to jump for the tongs, a succession of quick shots assured me that somebody had come to my relief. Then I heard my husband's voice, and five minutes afterward he and Deerskiu stood in the cabin. "I forgot to tell you that after your father started in the morning it had commenced to rain, and by the middle of the afternoon there was just such a storm as is raging tonight. The horse had fallen a couple of miles from the settlement, and would not rise. Your father had to walk this distance over a horrible road, and then get help to return for the wagon. "All this had taken time, and so in various ways he had been delayed till the storm had subsided and the moon had had risen. A mile from home he found Deerskin waiting for him, to warn him of the danger to be apprehended from the wolves. "Good squaw ! No hurt were the Indian's first words as he entered the cabin. 'Great Spirit take care good squaw, and good squaw's papoose.' "Your father mended the window-shutter and boarded up the broken glass, and then I went to work and got supper for the hungry travelers. We had a good cup of tea, some more dodgers and some molasses-cake, which Deerskin was so fond of that he actually laughed aloudthe first time such a thing ever happened. "The next morning there were found sixteen dead bodies, and when examined, five were found to have been killed by my red-hot poker." I have myself been very much annoyed by the way in which friends I went to visit allowed themselves to be "cumbered with much serving," so that it was almost impossible to have any reasonable conversation with them. I like good things to eat when I am hungry, but I feel almost insulted if that is the only entertainment offered me. I could get something to eat at home, but Lot my friends' company. The best visits among neighbors, in my opinion, are often those which are unannounced, and where the visitors do not stay to tea, unless they are sure they are desired to do so, and their staying will not make trouble for the hostess. There is something decidedly vulgar in the great "spread" sometimes made by those who entertain company. So many kinds of cake and sauce-so much indigestible stuff to please the sense of taste and make the visitors ill next day! And yet it is both natural and praiseworthy to wish to treat our friends to something nice in the way of food. Good eating is a privilege as well as a duty. We must eat to live, and so the first question in regard to our food is, whether it will "nourish these frail bodies of ours," as many a man has prayed at the opening of a meal which could "nourish " only by the working of a miracle. Too great a variety is burdensome to both guests and hostess, and it rarely proves the liberality of the one who entertains, but shows only too often a love of display and spirit of emulation. There should be enough of everything, and each dish should be good of its kind, especially the bread and other solid articles. If we cannot possibly get a meal for our visitors-the guests of an afternoon or a single day-without cooking anything while they are with us which necessitates our absence from the room for much time, it is best to do so. We knew of a case in which two ladies went to pass the day with the newly married wife of an old friend. This wife was so overcome by the cccasion, and so "laid herself out" to show her appreciation of it, that in preparing an elaborate dinner she devoted herself so entirely to it that her visitors only saw her at the table while the meal was being eaten, and went away disappointed at not having accomplished the object of their visit, which was to become acquainted with their friends' wife. When we know beforehand that company is coming, we can have everything ready to set upon the table, and so not spend over half an hour getting supper. The supper ready, it is our part to make our guests feel perfectly free to eat or not of the dishes set before them-to make them feel by our cordial manners, rather than by words, that we like to share our best things with them, and are pleased to have them enjoy them, while we will not make them eat merely to please us, but let us talk about Cheerful conversation at something besides the food. table promotes digestion. THE busybody labors without thanks, talks without credit, lives without love, and dies without tears. CECIL CARTERET'S HEART.-' -"HE CATCHES HER IN HIS ARMS, BUT THE WARM ENFOLDMENT MEETS WITH BUT THE COLDNESS OF DEATH." CECIL CARTERET'S ever faithful HEART. VASHTI." CECIL CARTERET sat in his office in Wall Street, puffing | and who danced her way into your heart at the Odéon. But you will leisurely at his cigar, picked up, one after another, the come and see me for the sake of 'auld laug syne,' because I have letters that had just been brought down from the postnot a single friend or relative to welcome me to my native land, office. With rather an indolent air he cut open envelope because I long to see you; and am but the weak shadow of your after envelope bearing the post-marks of Liverpool, Havre, San Francisco and Genoa, not to mention half a dozen nearer home, for it was July, and presumably business Two from Doty, of Cincinnati, circulars from hotels at Saratoga and the Branch, and-Carteret starts back a bit, and his dark, level brows contract as he catches up a big, thick, square envelope, crested in gold, was dull. addressed to him in a thin but bold hand. It is years since Carteret has seen that writing, and, curious as he undoubtedly is about the contents, he holds the letter between his fingers with an odd smile on his lips, a smile half loathing reminiscence, half contemptuous amusement. Only for a few moments. He reaches it toward the gas-jet, and then, with a subtle, impulsive movement, draws it back, tears it open and reads: "ON BOARD YACHT FIDÈLE. "CECIL: Although we parted ten years ago, I can see your dark, clear eyes flash with surprise, and perhaps with scorn, as they fall upon this page of mine. It has been a weary life, Cecil, my boy. I sacrificed my all on the altar of my ambition, for I sacri ficed you, the only being I ever loved, so help me God 1-myself, my youth's freshness, and my dream of bliss. In less than a month my pride had turned to bitterness, my triumph into mad regrets for the heart I had flung aside. But to-day, Cecil, I am free. I buried my husband-ah, what mockery!-the Prince Kartoryska, in Russia before I left, three months ago. Will you come and see me? I am faded, old, worn. In the Princess Kartoryska you will never recognize the little Vashti whom you loved, not He threw aside his cigar-it had gone out. He read and re-read the faintly violet-colored sheet before him. He recalled the old days when Vashti Yorke, a little American danseuse, who had migrated to Paris and the Odéon, had charmed him with her startling beauty and her elfish mirth. In fact, she had fascinated many another than the young student of twenty-two. Artists raved over her, sculptors said she would be grand in a few years-the girl was but fifteen-and managers tried to capture the attraction. Vashti did not dance so extraordinarily well; but the tall, lithe figure, the pallid, marble-like face, with the eyes of fire, the sinuous grace-the promise, as it were, that breathed like an impalpable atmosphere from "l'Americaine"-were more her charms than any actual beauty of performance. "Whom you loved!" Carteret glanced down at the letter. He had loved her. Oh, surely, madly; with every pulse of his young heart. He remembered, with a small shudder, that he had gone through a mortal agony the day she was married to the Russian prince, with his sixty odd years and his sixty odd millions. Yes, he remembered it all, and, remembering, there came back upon his cheek the old hot flush, the old wild throb through all his veins, when he expected to see |