SHE SANG TO ME. BY F. E. WEATHERLY. SHE sang to me, she sang to me, Till my glad heart sang again. She sang to me, she sang to me, We heard the sea's faint chime, Under the cliffs by the dusking sea, In the tender twilight time. She sang to me, she sang to me, In mine her dear hands lay, And naught to me were land and sea, My love was mine for aye. She was too fair for earth and me, SAM BRANDENBURGH'S GREATGRANDDAUGHTER BY K. V. HASTINGS. O mind what I say, Hepzibah Jane! If I catch you speaking just one word to Ben Gilman, I'll break every bone in your body." And the speaker brought down one fist on the milkroom-shelf with an energy which set all the pans to jingling, and sent tiny breakers across the creamy seas. All the morning long had Heppy and her stepmother stood side by side churning, washing and working the butter; and for three mortal hours had the girl's ears been assailed by the older woman's harsh voice and violent tirades. All the morning had Heppy listened, trying not to hear, and made no reply; but this last brought forth an answer. "I guess not," said she, looking up and showing a peculiar glint in her big brown eyes-a glint strongly suggestive of her father, Captain Abe Sanderson, commander of an oyster-sloop, when indulging in his "tallest talk." "Guess not, indeed!" screamed his amiable betterhalf; "guess not, indeed! Jest you try it. you little fool, and yer back'll tell whether it's 'guess not'! I mean what I say; so now I've warned you !" She paused to emphasize her words with still further pounding of fists and stamping of feet, which sounded much like a restive horse in the stable. Meantime, outside all was loveliness and peace; and Heppy's eyes kept wandering out of the milk-room window, and over the distant hills lying warm and brown in the Autumn sun. Beside the door the Japanese geese cackled and hissed, and raised their patrician Roman noses toward heaven, condescendingly thanking God that they were not as other geese were. Yankee Doodle, the spitz, sat blinking in the sun, pensively licking his forepaws, while the guinea-hens called to their absent sweethearts to "Come back!-come back!" and whiled away the time of their absence by chasing a few belated millers, fluttering about in the sunshine. The air was soft and hazy with the gentle languor of Indian Summer; the broad blue sky just flecked here and there with a mackerel spot or two; while the grass, short and thick and brown, sang many a merry little tune to the passing breeze. All the morning long had Heppy's eyes strayed from her household duties, and out to the merry sunshine. She longed to go fern-hunting in the woods, or chestnutting on the hills; but, alas! all this could not be till the butter was finished and packed for market. So there was, for the present, no escape from the constant irritation of her stepmother's tongue, nor from Sophronia the "help's " laughable imitations of that lady's tantrums, given entr'acte, as her mistress stepped in and out. Hitherto Heppy had never troubled herself much about her stepmother's rages, for Captain Abe had usually been on hand to keep that lady within bounds; nor did it now occur to her seriously that Mrs. Sanderson would attempt to make good her threat. In her childhood there had been one constant fight between them; but now that Heppy was eighteen years. old, and just returned from five years at boarding-school, it would seem as though all that should naturally be at an end.. And so Captain Abe thought, for he had departed on one of his longest voyages with no idea but what hostilities between the women-folk were things of the past. Mrs. Sanderson had not seen her stepdaughter since the beginning of the latter's thirteenth year, and Captain Abe had no doubt but what in time the old feud had died out. So he kissed his wife and daughter, commended his dairy farm to their care, and took his departure with no notion that the family peace went with him. No sooner is he gone than Mrs. Sanderson, who feared nothing but her husband, and him only when present, once more gave free rein to her tongue, and "jawed" till it seemed the English language could be no further perverted from its proper use. Sometimes it was one thing, sometimes another; oftener nothing at all. Just now it was her next-door neighbor, Mrs. Gilman, with whom she had had words, and on whose account, Ben, Heppy's old playmate and friend, was to be tabooed. Ben was an orphan, one year older than his little neighbor, and from their babyhood up they had been brother and sister to each other. And as, during the time the girl was at school, Ben also had pursued his studies not a block off, the years which had separated her from her native village had not parted her from him. Ben had now grown into a tall, handsome young man, with brave blue eyes, a crop of dark-brown curls, and on his upper lip a thick growth which had passed through the downy stage, and which attained the dignity of a fullgrown mustache. He, too, had left school, for his deceased father's property was now nearly spent, and, his education being thus perforce finished, was spending a short vacation with "Cousin Gilman" while he-Ben-looked around for something to do. At last the butter was finished and packed for market, so Heppy strolled, warm and panting, down the gardenwalk to where the golden chrysanthemums were turning their yellow heads to the sun. She stood with her back to the thick lilac-hedge, gathering a bouquet de corsage, and listening gladly to the song of a joyous little bird who, in the top of a neighboring cherry-tree. was hurrahing in anticipation of high jinks to come when cherries should again be ripe; and so absorbed was she in his merry song that she scarcely heard the sound of wheels, nor did she see Ben himself till the buggy stopped beside the gate and the driver jumped out. "Hallo, Heppy !" cried he; "got through with your butter? Come and take a turn before dinner; there'll be just time enough." "I can't; it's just on the stroke of twelve, and we'll have dinner in a minute. Stop rumpling those red leaves, Ben; I know they're for me, and you're spoiling them as fast as you can. And she deftly extracted a bunch of After this the dance became a pas e trois, for he flew round after them, chewing the calves of whichever combatant was the handiest at the moment. After a while they came to a standstill, Mrs. S., out of breath, but more vituperative than ever, and Ben, sound of wind and limb, but almost furious enough to have broken her wrists. "Go outside the gate, Heppy, and close it after you. Go!" he added, peremptorily, as he saw her hesitate. "Now," removing his hands, and standing sternly over the breathless termagant, "will you tell me what all this means ?" Autumn leaves from his button-hole. "Tell you, you sarsy scamp! What have you got to Ben stuck out his manly lower lip in a laughable do with it, pray? Do you think because you stand over attempt at a pout. "I don't care if I do spoil them!" letting her take them, nevertheless. "I think you might go riding with a fellow! What's dinner compared to a ride with a friend ?" And so these two light-hearted young geese chattered away as they had chattered from their babyhood up. And neither saw the hidden foe who was stalking them, Indian fashion, from bush to bush, and from tree-trunk to tree-trunk, until a shower of whacks on Heppy's calico-covered shoulders served to remind her of her stepmother. Sure enough, there stood Mrs. Sanderson, her feet planted wide apart, her little red eyes screwed up into mere gimlet-holes full of malice, her gaudy calico gown flapping and flouncing round her knees, and her brawny red arms wielding the boiler-stick with a fire and fury worthy of a Bashi-bazouk ! Heppy gave one low cry, and tried to catch the stick which was dealing such unmerciful blows all over her poor little shoulders and arms; but failing in this, fled to Ben for protection. That astounded young gentleman precipitated himself over the gate, and launched himself into the thick of the fray; seizing Mrs. Sanderson by both wrists, and retaining his hold though the lady reared and plunged like a frantic horse. "Thunder" cried he, in wrath and bewilderment. "What does all this mean? Mrs. Sanderson, you must be crazy ?" 'Let go! Ben Gilman, you let me go! Ah, you hussy!" and she shook the stick she still held in her imprisoned hand at Heppy; and launched kicks at that indignant damsel, who nimbly eluded them. "Just wait till I get hold of you again, and I'll make you sorry for the day you didn't do as you were bid! I promised you a whaling, and now you've got to take it! Just wait till I get you into the house again !" Here the speaker and Ben executed another waltz, caused by her frantic efforts to escape, which, however, had no effect, except that either party trod any number of times on the other's toes, and that the lady's backhair was shaken off and taken possession of by Yankee Doodle, who tossed and tumbled it to his heart's content. "What does it mean, I say?" roared Ben, getting angrier every moment, as he saw Heppy furtively rubbing her poor little back, which was smarting and tingling most unpleasantly. "Will no one answer me? Be still, you vixen !" as his captive launched another kick and storm of abuse in Heppy's direction. This time Yankee Doodle was the sufferer; for, as he lay quietly dissecting his mistress's chignon, his tail was trodden on with what seemed to him unnecessary emphasis. six foot in your Cousin Gilman's old cast-off boots, you can come here and lord it over me? Yes," suddenly changing her mind, as a chance for new insult presented itself, "I told Miss Hepzibah Jane Sanderson," courtesying ironically toward that young lady, "that I'd no mind to have any o' my people mixing with low associates, and that if ever I caught her speaking to Mr. Benjamin Gilman," bending even lower, "I'd give her a good licking, and that's just what she'll get the minute you're gone. I don't s'pose you calc'late to stay here for ever." Ben turned his head inquiringly to where Heppy stood outside the gate, her eyes flashing with anger, yet sparkling with laughter; for what could be more absurd than all this rumpus? Heppy nodded. "That's it; but I sha'n't give up my old friends for nothing, and father wouldn't want me to, either." This reference to her nautical spouse reminded Mrs. S. that she must make hay while the sun shone, and that if there were any "licking" to be administered, it mu t be done in his absence. She again seized the boiler-stick and made a rush for the gate, which, however, was held against her by Ben. "What shall we do ?" he was asking. "I can't leave you here, Heppy." "Every one "Do!" screamed Mrs. S., in derision. knows what you want to do, Ben Gilman. You needn't think folks is such fools as they look !" becoming incoherent in her rage. "Every one knows it's Captain Abs money you're after! You'll grovel and cringe and do everything mean to get it, I dare say; but you never will. Captain Abe ain't the man to marry his darter to a beggar or a sneak, or a fool, Ben Gilman !" And she came to a pause, for, though her vocabulary was not exhausted, her breath was. Poor Hetty stood hot and crimson, anger and mortification struggling in her breast; and when Mrs. S. stoppe‹l, she burst forth: "It's a lie, Ben, a wicked, shameful lie! Every one knows that you are not courting me at all, and that we're only friends. And, oh, dear !-oh, dear !—why did father ever marry her ?" And the tears burst from her hot lids and trickled down in a scalding rain on the golden chrysanthemums that nestled in the front of her dress. "He must have been drunk," replied Ben, hastily forgetting in his excitement of whom he was speaking. "But, by George, Heppy! we'll do just what she says! We'll go and get married this very day. It'll be better than leaving you here. I won't leave you here-and it's the only way." “But—but—I can't I never thought of it before.” And poor Heppy felt her brain whirling with all the strange and remarkable events occurring on that Fall day to add fuel to the flames by saying Ben Gilman was a "real nice feller," and she was "right glad Heppy had caught him." Then followed another torrent, and so still more time was lost, while the lovers sped on their way to Haverford-the next village-and the house of Mr. Justice of the Peace Fletcher. And he seized his niece by the hand and started for the door. But Ben, crimson with anger, interfered. "Stop!" he said, sternly; "you're too late. That lady is my wife. Let go her hand." And with one quick movement he separated them, and put Heppy behind him. Jim turned and stared for a moment, stunned, for he Now, Heppy had a young uncle, who was beside her thought he had been in time; then he raised his whip father her only real relation, a gentleman who had forsaken farming and the ways of his ancestors, and gone into business in the city. Mr. James Hunter was twenty-nine years old, a bachelor, and with far other views for his pretty niece than that she should marry a penniless boy like Ben Gilman. So to him Mrs. Sanderson resolved to apply for aid. It so happened that he was at home that day, and quietly seated at his dinner, when Mrs. S., after spend ing half an hour in useless oratory, startled him with the announcement that his niece had eloped. There was scant time for explanation; so, after a sentence or two, he stormed out into the stable, flung a saddle across a horse, and in five minutes was galloping through Laghorn and on his way to Haverford. Meanwhile things had gone on swimmingly at "the squire's," and he was just in the act of pronouncing the couple before him man and wife, when MESSALINA. and Ben his fist; but the justice was said Heppy, stepping forward, "I'm eighteen years old, and can marry whom I please; and if you quarrel with my husband, I'll never speak to you again as long as I live. But if I'd known you were at home today, I'd have gone and staid with you till father came back. I didn't know it; neither did Ben." Jim, to whom this was all Greek -for, of course, Mrs. Sanderson had omitted all mention of the boiler - stick -merely scowled, and slashed his boots for a moment or two. "Well," said he, "I suppose I can do no good here," and turning his back on his niece, left the house, and soon was galloping back to Laghorn, intent on revenge. He was followed before long by the young couple, who had a nice talk in the buggy, poor young things! about their brilliant prospects. Of course, Ben was to make a fortune immediately, all through his shining talents and superior capacities; while Heppy was to be, according to him, "the dearest, prettiest little wife in the world," and to make the "jolliest home that a fellow ever had." And so they | and grandchildren dead, about whom or what was it drew up at Cousin Gilman's gate. worth her while to speak? There was plenty of room in But in the gateway stood Cousin Gilman himself, and her house, for she was rich and alone; but it never refused them admittance! He, the good-natured, easy-occurred to Heppy to appeal to her, any more than one going, had been goaded to madness by Mrs. Sanderson's would think of asking the family portraits for aid on a taunts-for she had spent half an hour at his house in the pinch. course of the afternoon-and he actually told Ben he could take his wife where he liked, but he couldn't bring her in there. He had nothing against Ben, and nothing against Heppy; but he wasn't going to have his neighbors throwing it up at him that he'd sent his cousin out to run off with an heiress; so they'd just have to go elsewhere. Thus he said, and he stepped inside the gate and closed it, and there was nothing to do except what he advised— go elsewhere. "I'm afraid I've got you into no end of a scrape," said Ben, gravely, as they drove away. "I wish your father hadn't a penny, or that Cousin Gilman wasn't such an ass-dear old fellow !" "Never mind, dear," answered poor little Heppy, trying to smile. "We'll get along somehow." Of course Uncle Jim's was closed to them; so Cousin Frank's was the next place to be tried. And there, too, they met with no success, for Uncle Jim had been before them, and made it a personal matter between himself and Cousin Frank-to whom he had lent money-that they should not be taken in. Cousin Rachel was next visited; but she, knowing nothing about the boiler-stick, had succumbed to Mrs. S.'s arguments, and merely screamed to them from an upper window that there "warn't no place for them there!" By this time the poor things were driving forlornly up and down the village street, with no place wherein to shelter themselves from the coming night. Laghorn boasted of no hotel; the efforts of Uncle Jim and Mrs. Sanderson had closed every door to them; and with nothing but a little odd change in their pockets, and the horse and buggy for their sole possessions, what was to become of them? They did not despair, however, and made light as possible of their troubles. But the fact remained that night was coming on, and there was no roof over their heads; that instead of the frank and friendly faces which had met them all their lives, there was now no one to be seen, except now and then a group who peered curiously at them from some open door or window, and then vanished, giggling, as they drew near. So they began to feel quite like babes in the wood. As the news flew from house to house, it at last reached "Aunt Phœbe" Brandenburgh, Heppy's great-grandmother. This lady was ninety-seven years old, and looked more than anything else like one of those South American mummies to be seen at Vassar College, or the S.nithsonian Institute. She was brown as a piece of her own old mahogany furniture, and she could not be said to be wrinkled, for she was nothing but wrinkles. Her hands were livid claws; her eyes had gone so far back into her head that no one could tell whether or not there was any sight left in them; and as for hearing, she seemed scarcely to have heard a word for years. She was nothing but a little soft bundle of clothes and cap-frills, which Debby, her attendant, dressed and seated by the fire every day, and which sat there, mumbling to itself, till time for bed. For years she had been "on the shelf," so to speak, utterly out of this world's affairs, never asking a question, never making a comment; her husband, children Neither had Mrs. Sanderson nor Uncle Jim thought it worth their while to visit and get her on their side. So when Cousin Rachel, rather spiteful, and also rather conscience-stricken, ran over to have a half-hour's gossip with Debby, and tell how she had "sent them nincumpoops to the right about," neither of them minded the little old bundle by the fire any more than if it had not been there. But by-and-by it began to stir and flutter, and finally & little wheezy noise came out from half a dozen shawls. "What's that, Rachel? Who's that what hadn't any place to go to ?" "Heppy, Aunt Phoebe," answered Rachel, in surprise ; for she hadn't heard as much from her aged neighbor in years. "What! my granddaughter, Heppy Hunter, that married Abe Sanderson ?" "No, no, Aunt Phoebe! Her daughter, Heppy Sanderson-leastways, Heppy Gilman now-she's run off and married Ben Gilman." "And why hasn't she a place to go to ?" queried the old woman, after a pause, seemingly taking that time to recollect who Heppy was. "'Cause Mrs. Sanderson's turned 'em out, and Gilman's folks has, too, and nobody'll take 'em in, and they're drivin' up and down the street with nowhere to stop." And Rachel was overcome with giggles at the humor of the situation. She But a change came over the poor old mummy-such a change as would not have been thought possible. straightened up her little old back till it looked almost perpendicular, and her eyes, that had been so long sunken out of sight, came again to the fore, and flashed fire on the two astonished women. "Do you mean to tell me that any o' Sam Brandenburgh's folks "-her thoughts wandering back to the lover who had courted and married her in her own lusty girlhood-"do you mean to tell me that any o' Sam Brandenburgh's folks is drivin' up and down Laghorn streets without a place to go to? Why didn't you take 'em in, Rachel? Why doesn't somebody take 'em in ?" "The folks is all mad at her, ma'am, 'cause she ran off and got married," stammered Rachel, beginning to feel rather foolish. 66 'S'pose she is married! She didn't change her blood when she changed her name, did she? None o' Sam's folks or mine shall go wanderin' round like beggars while I'm livin'!" And she rose to the feet on which she had not stood unaided for the last twenty years. "Let me alone !" she cried, angrily, as the two women made a frightened rush at her. And she feebly hobbled to the front door, opened it, and stepped out on the vine-covered porch. She shaded her eyes with one blue claw, and looked far down the village street, to where the sun was setting in a glory of purple and gold, giving the signal in so many happy homes for the return of the wanderers, and a merry gathering over the evening meal. A quarter of a mile away, and coming toward her, was a jaded horse drawing a buggy, and as they came nearer, she could see that it contained a man and a woman, both shivering with the cold, and poor Heppy doing her best |