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him to such a degree? Had you been in my place, world of men may be your kingdom. Under any conwould you have been willing that I should have so ditions I could have but
He is my all robbed
of your husband's care and companionship In your heart you must know what it would be to have and tender love?”
all taken froin you. Say, I beseech you to say, that “I dare say not. But don't be unjust to me, Mrs. you will not rob me of my husband !” King. At first I did not know anything about you. “ Your husband I do not want," says Circe SutherI did not know that Cyril King had a sick wife. I did land coolly, but kindly still ; "I cannot say that I have not know that he had any wife at all. He did not look 'not wanted an admirer,- a lover, even, though in no married. He did not act married. And when I was positively committed sense. But it was with no wish to told about his wife, I assure you, you were represented rob you. I'm of the opinion still that no one of us car to me the opposite of what you are.
• Wcak'! I never long hold anything which does not intrinsically belong saw any one with such strength for truth-telling. Dear
I've given you the best of advice how to bind how
you have lectured me! If you bring such a your husband to you in devotion. If you fail to do it, battery to bear upon him, no wonder he runs away from it will be because it is not in you to be able to do it, – you.”
or in him to be bound. It will not be my fault. I am “No, 'tis no wonder," says Agnes sadly, measuring speaking the truth to you, Mrs. King, and nothing but once more with unclouded eyes the exquisite face and the truth – something I can't always afford to do. form before her.
Now I will be as honest with you as you have been “ Now let me tell you a little truth, Mrs. King.
I care for your husband. All in all I think Don't make me wholly responsible. 'Tis unjust. If I
If II care more for him than for any other man that I ever had never been born, such a woman as you could never But if he were free, I can't say that I would hold in absolute loyalty a man like Cyril King. You marry him, for I don't want to marry anybody. I are too truth-telling. If you want to keep a man's love, prefer my freedom, my kingdom, if you will. I never never tell him the truth. He will not bear it. No had any purpose to harm you, I scarcely thought of yon man will bear it, not if it is disagreeable; and the save as a nobody - as you know by the words you naked truth, as people call it, almost always is hideous. overheard, or I would not mention it. I thought of you A man will bear the truth from a man, never from a only to pity him, that he should carry you as a weight woman; not if he loves her, or wishes to stand well in | I pity him still, but I pity you more. You suffer and her opinion. The moment that she dares to become make others suffer from an excess of over-exacting virhis judge, his critic, she creates in him coldness, if not tues, more intolerable in one we live with, than sins – indifference, toward herself. The key to the entire arch which, to tell the truth, are usually agreeable. But to of a man's love is flattery. Soothe his self-love, and prore to you that I wish you no ill, I will make a greater you will be ever agreeable to him. Hint that he has a sacrifice for you than I ever made for any one in my life. fault, and he will run away from you, if it is only to his I will go away from here — not to-day or to-morrow, cigar. Now I am absolutely certain, Mrs. King, that
but soon. I will go soon.
And I am
sure you can you were never displeased with your husband that you never know what a sacrifice I make for you, for just did not show it in some way, though you spoke not now it is the pleasure of my life to stay.” & word.”
“ And you will never know with what gratitude I “I fear you are right,” says Agnes meekly.
thank you. Look at these children! Could any pass“ It would not have gone so hard with you,” says ing pleasure ever compensate you for the knowledge Circe kindly, “ if you had known how to manage him. that you had taken a father from his children? a hus, You have no finesse. You are too devoted for such a band from his wife? that
you had broken up a home? You give him no stimulus, not the slightest, in What could he give you to atone for such knowledge?" loving you. You made him sure in the beginuing that “ The love of his eyes, the worship of his life,'
, your devotion was absolute, as endless as it is narrow ; thought Circe Sutherland; but she said : “ You are that no matter what he does or does not, no iota can be the most dreadfully in earnest of any woman I ever added or taken from it; that to you he is the only man
It would tire me to death, - and you must par. in existence to dote on, to live in, to pronounce upon, don me when I say that I should think it would tire and to bore - and you attempt to measure his devotion your husband to death, — this eternal thrusting at him to you by the same irrevocable gauge. Now such a man of the right and wrong of everything. Do you take sometime is sure to feel nagged by such a devotion. nothing for granted? Do you accept nothing because It wearies him, it worries him; and he will run away it is, and is therefore to be enjoyed and rejoiced in, from it, somewhere, to something, if only to assert his without question?” own manhood. But if you could only give your hus. Yes, that which I have a right to, surely, — but band a little home excitement by admiring some one never that which infringes upon the peace of another." else, - mind, I don't say falling in love with some one "Well, we could come no nearer together were we else, you would give him a new stimulus to stand first to talk on forever,” says Circe, rising.
“ We do not in your opinion again. But if you insist on such abso- stand on the same plane, we see nothing from the same lute and exacting bondage, - what other word is there angle of vision. What is symmetrical to one is disfor it? — why, he will break away, though ever so little, torted to the other, and could never be otherwise. Of into by-paths, to taste the stolen sweetness of forbidden one thing be sure, whatever may happen in the future I fruits; there is no other help for it.”
shall never speak to your disparagement again. I could Agnes is silent before the to her new philosophy of never love you, for you disturb my good opinion of this fair daughter of the world.
myself --- which is not pleasant. But I respect you. At last she says, “ It is easy for you to say all this, I came here to give you these flowers, to ask you to you who have so much. I have but him. I want but
drive with me, to say nothing that I deeply meant ; him. Do not steal him away from me with
your beau- whereas, I never spoke so unreservedly to any one in tiful face and your alluring voice. Think of it! The my life. You know me perfectly, therefore I have made
no attempt to evade or to veil. You have spiritual in- “ And who was Mrs. Van Ness ? " sight and force beyond what I have ever found in one “ The heiress of Washington! Her father owned woman. By sheer moral power you have compelled all the land from Georgetown to where the Patent me to be as sincere as yourself. I can bear it for once. Office now stands. It was of this obstinate Mr. Burns, But it would make me very uncomfortable to have you as President Washington called him, that he bought drop your divining rod into me very often. I prefer to with much difficulty the site of the future city. Marcia hold it in my own hands and to sound the depths of Burns was then the only child of this old man. She other people. Your very presence would set me to was sent to Baltimore to be educated, and came back questioning my own motives, and tend to make me dis- to be the belle of the first Congress assembled at the satisfied with myself. I could never bear that, never, Capitol. I've just been reading that in the little log– and, as your friend, let me say your husband never house we are going to see, all the great people of that will.
time visited, - Washington, Jefferson, Hamilton, Burr, “How odd !” Circe goes on, as she stoops and kisses the Calverts, the Carrolls, and that Thomas Moore each child. “ Your little boy is yourself over again, and slept in the little room off the kitchen on the ground this little girl is the image of her papa. How I wish floor." you would let me take them to drive. You wouldn't “ Dear me! It will be like visiting Shakespeare's drive with a sinner like me ? ” says the sweet alluring house at Stratford-on-Avon,” said Circe, who was too voice, while the small mouth droops and quivers like polite to add that few things bored her more than old that of an injured child. “Ask mamma to let you go, shrines and relics. “And this famous belle became little ones. Tell her I'll bring you back safe.”
Mrs. Van Ness ? " she asked. “ Do, mamma! Let us doe,” says Vida.
“Yes, she married the handsomest man in Congress. “Why, Vida ?”
The record says he was well fed, well bred, well read.' “ 'Twill jew me dood to doe.”
After a while he built a mansion house a few rods away Yes, mamma !” pleads the boy.
from the log cottage. It was designed by Latrobe. " But you said you had a lesson ready to recite." I want to see the mantel-pieces ; they were wrought in
What's a lesson, mamma, compared with my health Italy, and it is said are covered with sculptured Loves and Vida's ?” asks seven-year-old Cyril.
and Vestas, models of exquisite art. But Mrs. Van She is fairly beleaguered. She has never yet let her Ness always loved the log cottage better than the manchildren drive out without her. This lady is probably sion house." right : she is over severe and puritanical. Even her “ Indeed! I suppose she was a very common sort of she must have judged too hardly. Look at that lovely, a person?” pleading mouth, quivering like a child's.
“ No, she was very uncommon, an exquisite soul, “I will go,” she says suddenly. “ And may it seems to me. Horatio Greenough, in his poem on go, babies. I will not keep you waiting long,"
– to the her, says, smiling Circe, as she leads the children out of the parlor “'Mid rank, and wealth, and worldly pride, for their wrappings.
From every snare she turned aside. "So far so good,” says the musing Circe, now left “Oh, dear! what a wooden creature she must have alone. “ It is more than I expected, far more, when been then!” I felt how surely she struck the nail on the head. I “Oh, no! You will not say so if you go and look at wish I was well out of it all. I wish I had never her portrait in the Orphan Asylum. It is as lovely as been him. I wish she were the idiot I thought her. a Madonna. She founded and endowed the Washington I wish he had just as little at home as I supposed. Orphan Asylum after the death of her only child, Mrs. Then I could feel justified ; now, unless I get far enough Middleton, who was buried with her baby in her arms at away from that face and voice, I never can. Mercy ! to the
age of twenty-two. After that Mrs. Van Ness used to come to such a lecture! But I gave it back, and more, go into the little log-house every day alone to meditate before she got through ; that is some comfort.”
and pray. My nurse Chloe tells of General Van Ness' Linda, up-stairs, thinks the world must be turned up- splendid equipage, with its six horses and liveried outside down, or the pillars of the universe shaken in some riders, - how everybody on the street used to turn and way, to have brought these two together.
gaze after it; and the entertainments at the mansion “You couldn't see her, couldn't speak to her — and house were the most splendid given in their day. Mrs. in au hour's time you are going out to drive with her! | Van Ness was beautiful and elegant, but her heart was She must be a witch !”
in none of these things. She knew about public affairs ; “She is charming, Linda," is Agnes' only reply. she wrote poetry ; her associations were all with the
"Now tell me just where you would like to go, and great of this world ; yet her heart seemed to be with there we will drive,” said Circe, as Agnes and her the poor and the suffering. She was the only American children took their seats in her
woman citizen whose body lay in state and was buried " I would like to go to Van Ness Place; I intended with public honors; yet the mourners wbo followed her that to be my next drive with the children.”
coffin were the orphans whom she had cherished. " Van Ness Place: Where is it?”
" It seems to me the most consecrated and holy life " At the foot of Seventeenth Street. Have you never in the world, that I have ever heard about. I have been there?”
thought so much of the heiress of Washington,' as she "No. Nor ever heard of it. Tell me about it, please. is called. That is why I want to see the little logI am a stranger in Washington, you know. To Van house in which she was born, and always prayed; and Ness Place, Pierre, foot of Seventeenth Street ; " and the mansion house in which she lived and died.” the carriage turned toward the West End.
" A beautiful life, no doubt, for any one who fancies " It's the Burns cottage that I care most to see," said it,” said Circe, " but it seems to me a dreadfully dreary Agnes, "and that because it is so associated with Mar- What was the use of praying when her daughter cia Burns, who became Mrs. Van Ness.”
was dead ? It would not bring her back."
“ No, but it could help her to bear the loss. And ure from Aunt Jessie of an unusually stringent characby that daughter's grave she consecrated herself for life ter, that morning, sent her forth filled with a desperate to the orphan. Through loss she gave. Her memory resolve to make amends for all her past neglect, in a is an inspiration.”
single visit. “ To you !” said Circe Sutherland. “It is spiritless "I will take her flowers, and will take her out to enough to me, I assure you. This must be the place.” drive; and when the Peppercorns and all the rest
They had reached a high brick wall which shut in an Aunt Jessie is making such an ado about, see Mrs. entire square on the banks of the Potomac. Its tall King and Mrs. Sutherland driving out in peace together, gate stood open, the lodge by its side apparently hav- they will say, "There! A mistake after all! The two ing fallen into disuse. Å broad avenue wound on be- ladies are friends, though we did not know it.'” neath trees of forest growth, and in a moment they Aunt Jessie, a “wall-flower” on the opposite side of paused by the Burns cottage, famous in the annals of the hall at the ambassadors' ball, had been far from the capital.
pleased with her all-night observations. Her moral It is a low, sharp-roofed cottage, built of logs, and sensibility received no shock, but her usually serene white-washed. Its doors face north and south, one “sense of propriety” was jarred to positive irritability. opening on the grand old garden, the other on the broad “If I did not see it I would never have believed that river. Trees of immemorial years interlace in a green Circe would commit herself personally to disparaging arcade far above it. The moss grows thick upon its comment,” she said to herself. “I can't believe it, sloping roof. The broad flagstones over which Wash- yet I'm afraid she is interested at heart in this Mr. ington and Jefferson passed are now sunken deep be- King. How preposterous. If his wife were not preso low their grassy borders. Its settled door-stones, its ent she might dance with him all night ; or if his wife antique door-latch, its minute window-panes, are just were present, and she too were dancing with somebody the same that they were when Marcia Burns, beautiful else. But that little forlorn image over there," – and and young,
received within its walls her courtly suitors ; Aunt Jessie fixed her glass upon it, — " that little forlorn just the same as when Marcia Burns, smitten and image is enough to set the world inquiring after her buschildless, knelt alone by its desolate hearth to commune band and his doings, and for once Circe seems to be as with the God and Father of her spirit.
blind as an owl to appearances.” “ A poor enough place,” said Circe. “It's not so A passing remark concerning the couple of the ball, good as an overseer's house in Louisiana. Who can from Mrs. Peppercorn, as the stately senatress moved think of Carrolls and Calverts being entertained here ? on to the dressing-room after bidding Agnes good And the other’s not so vastly better,” pointing to the night, stirred Aunt Jessie to deeper irritation, which Van Ness house a few rods distant. “Pray, is that her brief and troubled morning sleep only deepened. considered a fine house in Washington ?”
Thus she met her beautiful niece at a late breakfast, “ It was a wonderful house in its day,” said Agnes. charged with a lecture of an unusually portentous nature
. “It cost nearly sixty thousand dollars, and was mod- " It's of little consequence what people imagine eled after the White House. All of Congress was en- about you, Circe, so they never imagine the truth. tertained in that grand parlor every year.
Look at You are very rich and very handsome, but you are a this box! It reaches above the carriage door. It is
woman ; and because you are, you can't afford to have round this circular drive, the wonder-mongers say, that any ugly
any ugly truths set against your character. Neither the six horses of General Van Ness gallop headless money nor beauty could be an offset. You must reevery anniversary of his birth-night.”
member that you are not in Paris.”. “ How dismal! Well, the whole place looks dreary “I wish I were, and with somebody else." enough for just such ghosts.”
“ Circe! You know I very seldom assert any au. “It does not look dismal to me,” said Agnes, gaz- thority over you. But I do now. You must cultiing off through a widening vista in the trees to the vate Mrs. King, or give up Mr. King." Potomac, flowing bright and broad beyond. “See “I'll cultivate her,” said Circe with a sigh. “Only how the river gleams in this bright atmosphere. See stop scolding, auntie, do." those white sails dip. And there is Arlington House ! Aunt Jessie's worldly wisdom seemed mild indeed, How plain its Doric pillars show through the oaks on compared with the utterly unlooked-for truth poured the heights. Can you see it, Mrs. Sutherland ? "
out by Agnes. Circe expected to encounter a weak, “Yes, plainly. A poor old place. Shan't we go querulous invalid, back to the avenue now ?”
a grown-up child whom she in
tended to pacify with flowers, and to wheedle into tak“Certainly, if you prefer it ;” and Agnes looked ing a drive. about the old garden with the resolve that when May Those clear, divining eyes, the moment they were brought its bloom she would come back to it again fixed upon her, put all her pretty policy to rout
. alone, with her children.
Never had her placid tact been taken at such disadvan: It was for this drive through the West End and on tage. Never before had she been surprised from its the avenue only, that Circe had asked Agnes to accom- stronghold. Outside of it, she was utterly discomfited
. pany her. It was not without mental effort of a rather It is true she partly regained her ground afterwards. severe quality that she brought herself to call upon Cyril But it was only a half victory. It was scarcely that
, King's wife. At heart she had never been reconciled for overborne by the heart truth pressed down upon to the fact of his having a wife. Not that she wished her by this unhappy wife, had not she, Circe Sutherto marry him. But it irked her to remember that there land, promised to go ? to go out of her way, and leave was any woman living who held the right to question
her husband ? his exclusive attentions to herself. This feeling thus Still, under the circumstances, it was some small comfar had proved too strong for her usually ever-ready fort to know that she, with the assistance of the children, diplomacy. She had shown less than her ordinary tact
had overpowered this little woman, and won upon in delaying so long her call upon Mrs. King. A lect- sufficiently to take a drive.
" That is something in the eyes of people at least," Oak was not bound by his agreement to assist in the said Circe to herself. Nevertheless, some way fat heart
corn-field; but the harvest-month is an anxious time for a she felt vanquished.
farmer, and the corn was Bathsheba's, so he lent a hand. “Well, I declare !” exclaimed “ Hon. Mrs. Pepper
“He's dressed up in his best clothes,” said Matthew corn," as she stood gazing from her drawing-room
Moon. “He hev been away from home for a few days,
since he's had that felon upon his finger; for a' said, Since window upon Lafayette Square. “ After all I've told
I can't work I'll have a hollerday." you of last night, Lulie, if here isn't Mrs. King and “A good time for one — an excellent ne," said Joseph her children with that very Mrs. Sutherland! Come Poorgrass, straightening his back; for he, like some of the quick! There ! They've turned the corner. She others, had a way of resting awhile from his labor on such can't deceive me. Not after what I saw last night.
hot days, for reasons preternaturally small; of which Cain It's all her Aunt Jessie's work. She made her call
Ball's advent on a week-day in his Sunday clothes was one
of the first magnitude. "'Twas a bad leg allowed me to upon Mrs. King this very morning, and take her to
read the • Pilgrim's Progress,' and Mark Clark learnt alldrive, as a cover for last evening. She can't blind me.
fours in a whitlow.' No, nor society.”
“ Aye, and my father put his arm out of joint to have “ Is it too far for the children to the Capitol ? Or time to go courting,” said Jan Coggan in an eclipsing tone, perhaps you don't care to go ?” Circe asked with a wiping his face with his shirt-sleeve and thrusting back his shade less than her usual nonchalance.
hat upon the nape of his neck. “No, not to the Capitol,” said Agnes, with a white
By this time Cainy was nearing the group of harvesters, face. It seemed to her that not till this instant had she
and was perceived to be carrying a large slice of bread and
ham in one hand, from which he took mouthfuls as he ran, realized with whom she was driving. “ We have had
the other hand being wrapped in a bandage. When he a long and charming drive ; you have been very kind, came close, his mouth assumed the bell shape, and he be– but we must go home now.”
gan to cough violently. So she must lose the final triumph of the drive. It “Now, Cainy !” said Gabriel, sternly. was hard. She was used only to conquest. But she more times must I tell you to keep from running so fast could not conquer, or make subject to her own, the will
when you are eating? You'll choke yourself some day,
that's what you'll do, Cain Ball.” of Cyril King's wife — that “poor, weak little thing,"
“Hok-hok hok !" replied Cain. " A crumb of my victas she had been used to hear her called.
uals went the wrong way — hok-hok ! That's what 'tis, Still the drive did not wholly miss its effect. Society Mister Oak! And I've been visiting to Bath because I had other eyes not so keenly peeled as Mrs. Pepper- had a felon on my thumb; yes, and I've seen – ahokcorn's. More than one pair saw, while its accompany- hok ! ” ing tongue exclaimed : “ There! There is Mrs. King Directly Cain mentioned Bath, they all threw down driving with that Mrs. Sutherland. This is proof their hooks and forks and drew round him. Unfortunately
the crumb did not improve his narrative powers, and a supenough there is no truth in the stories they tell of Mr. King's being in love with her. If he was, of course
plementary hindrance was that of a sneeze, jerking from
his pocket his rather large watch, which dangled in front Mrs. King wouldn't drive out with her.”
of the young man pendulum-wise. (To be continued.)
“Yes,” he continued, directing his thoughts to Bath and letting his eyes follow, “ I've seed the world at last
- and I've seed our mis'ess - ahok-hok-hok !" FAR FROM THE MADDING CROWD.
“Bother the boy !” said Gabriel." Something is always
going the wrong way down your throat, so that you can't IN THE SUN: A HARBINGER.
tell what's necessary to be told."
“ Ahok! there! Please, Mister Oak, a gnat have just A WEEK passed, and there were no tidings of Bathsheba; flewed into my stomach and brought the cough on again!” nor was there any explanation of her Gilpin's rig.
“ Yes, that's just it. Your mouth is always open, you Then a note came for Maryann, stating that the business which had called her mistress to Bath still detained her “ 'Tis terrible bad to have a gnat fly down yer throat, there; but that she hoped to return in the course of another pore boy!” said Matthew Moon. week.
“Well, at Bath you saw” – prompted Gabriel. Another week passed. The oat-harvest began, and all “I saw our mistress," continued the junior shepherd, the men were afield under a monochromatic Lammas sky, " and a soldier, walking along. And bymeby they got amid the trembling air and short shadows of noon. Indoors closer and closer, and then they went arm-in-crook, like nothing was to be heard save the droning of blue-bottle courting complete — hok-hok! like courting complete – fies; out-of-doors the whetting of scythes and the hiss of hok ! - courting complete" Losing the thread of his tressy oat-ears rubbing together as their perpendicular narrative at this point simultaneously with his loss of stalks of amber-yellow fell heavily to each swath. Every breath, their informant looked up and down the field ap: drop of moisture not in the men's bottles and flagons, in the parently for some clue to it. “Well, I see our mis'ess and form of cider, was raining as perspiration from their fore- a soldier a-ha-a-wk !" heads and cheeks. Drought was everywhere else.
“D—- the boy!” said Gabriel. They were about to withdraw for a while into the chari
“ 'Tis only my manner, Mister Oak, if ye'll excuse it,” table shade of a tree in the fence, when Coggan saw a fig- said Cain Ball, looking reproachfully at Oak, with eyes ure in a blue coat and brass buttons running to them across drenched in their own dew. the field.
“Here's some cider for him — that'll cure his throat,” “ I wonder who that is ?" he said.
said Jan Coggan, lifting a flagon of cider, pulling out the " I hope nothing is wrong about mistress," said Maryann, cork, and applying the hole to Cainy's mouth; Joseph who with some other women was tying the bundles Coats Poorgrass in the mean time beginning to think apprehenbeing always sheafed on this farm), “ but an unlucky token sively of the serious consequences that would follow Cainy. came to me indoors this morning. I went to unlock the Ball's strangulation in his cough, and the history of his door and dropped the key, and it fell upon the stone floor Bath adventures dying with him. and broke into two pieces. Breaking a key is a dreadful “For my poor self, I always say . please God' afore I do bodement. I wish mis'ess was home.”
anything," said Joseph, in an unboastful voice; "and so “* Tis Cain Ball,” said Gabriel, pausing from whetting should you, Cain Ball. 'Tis a great safeguard, and might
perhaps save you from being choked to death some day."
66 'Tis a
Mr. Coggan poured the liquor with unstinted liberality to light their fires except as a luxery, for the water springs at the suffering Cain's circular mouth; half of it running up out of the earth ready boiled for use. down the side of the flagon, and half of what reached his “ 'Tis true as the light," testified Matthew Moon. “ I've mouth running down outside his throat, and half of what heard other navigators say the same thing." ran in going the wrong way, and being coughed and sneezed “They drink nothing else there,” said Cain," and around the persons of the gathered reapers in the form of a seem to enjoy it, to see how they swaller it down." rarefied cider fog, which for a moment hung in the sunny “Well
, it seems a barbarous practice enough to us, but air like a small exhalation.
I dare say the natives think nothing of it,” said Mattbew. “ There's a great clumsy sneeze! Why can't ye have “ And don't victuals spring up as well as drink?" asked better manners, you young dog!” said Coggan, withdraw- Coggan, twirling his eye. ing the tlagon.
“NoI own to å blot there in Bath - a true blot. *. The cider went up my nose!” cried Cainy, as soon as God did'nt provide 'em victuals as well as drink, and 'twas he could speak ; " and now 'tis gone down my neck, and a drawback I couldn't get over at all." into my poor dumb felon, and over my shiny buttons and Well, 'tis a curious place, to say the least," observed all my best close ! ”
Moon; "and it must be a curious people that live therein." “The pore lad's cough is terrible unfortunate," said “ Miss Everdene and the soldier were walking about Matthew Moon. “ And a great history on hand, too. together, you say?" said Gabriel, returning to the group. Bump his back, shepherd.”
Aye, and she wore a beautiful gold-color silk gown, “ 'Tis my nater," mourned Cain. “ Mother says I al- trimmed with black lace, that would have stood alone withways was so excitable when my feelings were worked up to out legs inside if required. 'Twas a very winsome sight; a point.”
and her hair was brushed splendid. And when the sun " True, true," said Joseph Poorgrass.
" The Balls were
shone upon the bright gown and his red coat — my! how always a very excitable family. I knowed the boy's grand- handsome they looked. You could see 'em all the length father- a truly nervous and modest man, even to genteel of the street." refinement. "T'was blush, blush with him, almost as much “ And what then?" murmured Gabriel. as 'tis with me not but that 'lis a fault in me."
“ And then I went into Griffin's to have my boots hobbed, “ Not at all, Master Poorgrass,” said Coggan.
and then I went to Riggs' batty-cake shop, and asked 'em very noble quality in ye.”
for a penneth of the cheapest and nicest stales, that were “Heh-heh! well, I wish to noise nothing abroad noth- all but blue-mouldy but not quite. And whilst I was cher. ing at all," murmured Poorgrass, diffidently. “But we ing 'em down I walked on and seed a clock with a face as are born to things — that's true. Yet I would rather my big a baking-trendle" trifle were hid; though, perhaps, a high nature is a little “ But that's nothing to do with mistress high, and at my birth all things were possible to my Maker “ I'm coming to that, if you'll leave me alone, Mister and he may have begrudged no gifts. • . . But under your Oak!” remonstrated Cainy. “If you excites me, perhaps bushel, Joseph! under your bushel with you! A strange you'll bring on my cough, and then I shan't be able to desire, neighbors, this desire to hide, and no praise due. tell ye nothing." Yet there is a Sermon on the Mount with a calendar of “Yes — let him tell it his own way,” said Coggan. the blessed at the head, and certain meek men may be Gabriel settled into a despairing attitude of patience, and named therein."
Cainy went on:“ Cainy's grandfather was a very clever man,” said “ And there were great large bouses, and more people all Matthew Moon. “ Invented a apple-tree out of his own the week long than at Weatherbury club-walking on White head, which is called by his name to this day — the Early Tuesdays. And I went to grand churches and chapels, Ball. You know 'em, Jan? A Quarrington grafted on a And how the parson would pray! Yes, he would kneel Tom Putt, and a Rathe-ripe upon top o' that again. 'Tis down and put up his hands together, and make the holy trew a' used to bide about in a public house in a way he had gold rings on bis fingers gleam and twinkle in yer eyes, no business to by rights, but there — a' were a clever man that he'd earned by praying so excellent well! in the sense of the term."
I wish I lived there." “Now, then,” said Gabriel impatiently, “what did you “ Our poor Parson Thirdly can't get no money to buy see, Cain ?"
such rings,” said Matthew Moon, thoughtfully. " And as “I seed our mis'ess go into a sort of a park place, where good a man as ever walked. I don't believe poor Thirdly there's seats and shrubs and flowers, arm-in-crook with a have a single one, even of humblest tin or copper. Such a soldier," continued Cainy firmly, and with a dim sense that great ornament as they'd be to him on a dull afternoon, his words were very effective as regarded Gabriel's emo- when he's up in the pulpit lighted by the wax candles ! tions. “ And I think the soldier was Sergeant Troy. And But 'tis impossible, poor man. Ah, to think how unequal they sat there together for more than half an hour, talking things be.” moving things, and she once was crying almost to death. Perhaps he's made of different stuff than to wear 'em," And when they came out her eyes were shining and she said Gabriel grimly. “Well, that's enough of this. Go was as white as a lily; and they looked into one another's on, Cainy – quick.” faces, as desperately friendly as a man and woman can “Oh, — and the new style of parsons wear moustaches be.”
and long beards," continued the illustrious traveller," and Gabriel's features seemed to get thinner. Well, what look like Moses and Aaron complete, and make we fukes in did you see besides ?"
the congregation feel all over like the children of Israel." “Oh, all sorts."
“A very right feeling - very,” said Joseph Poorgrass. “ White as a lily? You are sure 'twas she ? "
“And there's two religions going on in the nation now“ Yes."
High Church and High Chapel. °And, thinks I, I'll play “Well, what besides ?”
fair; so I went to High Church in the “Great glass windows to the shops, and great clouds in Chapel in the afternoon." the sky, full of rain, and old wooden trees in the country “A right and proper boy,” said Joseph Poorgrass. round."
Well, at High Church they pray singing, and believe in “ You stun-poll! What will ye say next!” said Cog. all the colors of the rainbow; and at High Chapel they gan.
pray preaching, and believe in drab and whitewash only
. “Let en alone,” interposed Joseph Poorgrass. “The And then I didn't see no more of Miss Everdene at boy's maning is that the sky and the earth in the kingdom all.” of Bath is not altogether different from ours here. 'Tis for “Why didn't you say so before, then ? " exclaimed Oak, our good to gain knowledge of strange cities, and as such with much disappointment. the boy's words should be suffered, so to speak it.”
“ Ali,” said Matthew Moon, " she'll wish her cake dough “And the people of Bath,” continued Cain, never need if so be she's over intimate with that man."
rning, and High