Rensselaer Union, Volume 11, Number 49, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 21 August 1879 — BEATRICE HALE. [ARTICLE]

BEATRICE HALE.

n Of all things, a night journey is the most tedious,” said Clarence Hatfield, as he let himself fall heavily into the stiff and uncomfortable seat of the railway car, with its faded velvet cushions, and its back at exactly the wrong angle for aught approaching the luxury of a nap. “ I say, Clifton, do you think we might smoke?” “ Well, I rather imagine not,” said I, witli a motion of my head toward the other passengers. “There appears to be ladies on board.” Hatfield shrugged his shoulders. “Such ladies!” “Well,” laughed 1, “ they don’t appear to be particularly stylish in manner or costume, but nevertheless, my dear fellow, the divinity of their sex hedges them fronnctflike a wall.” “Divinity of their humbug!” shortly interrupted HAtfield. “Ah B these illdressed dowdies, with babies and bandboxes, could -possibly bidong to the same world with Beatrice Hale!” To this I made no answer. It did not seem to me exactly appropriate to lug the sacred name of Beatrice Hale into a discussion in a place like this. Yet what could I do, except to feel my cheeks flush, and the roots of my hair tingle? I was unmistakably in love with BPe Hale; and so was. Clarence Hatfield. If I were to waste quarts of ink and reams of paper in trying to describe her manifold dharms ana excellencies to the reader it wouldn’t do any,good. Such things have been tried before and failed.' Let him imagihe the i fdireflt' brunette that sun ever shone on, and he may Come somewhere near the mark. Suffice tit to say that she wqs as beautiful as 'a flream, And that Hatfield and I were both slaves at her feet. Which of us did she like best? Ah, that was the question! It was something like the children’s old game of see-saw, “Up I go, down you come.” Sometimes I fancied 1 had the gholt of a chance —sometimes I was convinced that Hatfield was altogether the preferred, and that I had bettef emigrate to Australia at once. “ Hello!” cried Hatfield, breaking unceremoniously ip upon the thread of my musings, “there goes the whistle. We shall be off directly. Thank,goodness for that!” And he put his feet on the opposite seat and prepared for as comfortable a four hours’ ride as possible. Clarence Hatfield and I, be it understood, were employes in the extensive business of Messrs. Jenkins, Jumper: ton & (Jo., auctioneers, ami.iyid beep down to the country “putting up 1 ” a. sale of swampy lots, cut into streets and squares, 'according to the qiost approved metropolitan methods of doing such things. It hid been a dismal /business. November is not an inspiring , mynth at the best, and a three-days’ tog had conspired against the success of “ Jdount Morra Bark,” as Jumperton & Co. had christened the new speculation. Yet we had done reasonably well, and were now thankful enough to get back to New York. As the train gave its starting lunge the door flew open, and in came a tall old lady, in a prodigious black bonnet and a fur cloak, surrounded by a perfect chevaux He frise of squirrel-cages, leather hagß, brown-paper parcels, and sandwich-boxes. She was followed closely by a younger lady, dressed in black ana closely veiled, and paused hesitatingly in front of our seat. “Ypung man,” said she, in a low voice, as gruff as that of a man, “is this seat engaged?” - “Yes,” said Hatfield, “it is.’?

“For your feetP” “No matter what for,” superciliously fepliefi the head clerk of Jenkins, Jumperton & Co. “Please to pass on, old lady. You’ll find seats enough beyond.” But this was a stretching of the truth. There were no seats.bayoA(l, as the old lady could easily perceive, unless she chose to sit directly opposite a red-hot coal fire, or upon one of those corner arrangements close to the door, which are equivalent to no seat at all. The old lady hesitated and changed her heavy carpet-bag from one wearied arm to the other. I thought, of my own gbod Aunt Polly at home, ana rdse at once. “ Pray take this seat, ma’ams,” said' I. “ And let me put your parcel up in the rack for you.” “Clifton, what a fool you are!” cried Hatfield, in an impatient sotto voce. “Why couldn’t you have sat still and minded jfoaro>trbusiness?” *‘lt is my own fiuaingps,” I,answered,, brusquely, to see that every lady is made as comfortable as it is in the nature of things to be. New .the squirrel cage, madair—|’Jl e» v|it pomfoitell* under the seat, I think.” Hatfield uttered a contemptuous grunt, but he never offered to take his feet off the opposite cushions, although the, younger woman stood in the aisle, uncomfortably swayigo backward and forward with the of tjhe train, until a woman beyond, observing the state of affairs, drew a sleeping child into her lap, and beckpned the other to take the place,tbns vacated-' f-•; ff > | By this time, my old lady had established herself to her entire satisfaction, and opened her sandwich box. “ Much obliged to you, young man,” said she, “ It’s easy to see you’ve a mother of your own at home, and that you are in the habit of doing reverence to her gray hairs. As for this person” —with a nod of her poke-bonnet in the direction of Mr. Hatfield—“ got a mother, I can’t aa>y much: for her beofei himself one* day, anl* stand in uedd of a little politeness and consideration from the young.” “When I’m- anxious for your good opinion, ma’am, J’JJ let you know,”

returned Mr. Hatfield, rather flippantly.. The old lady could only express herself by a vehement snuff. And even I was a littleannoyed at his manner. “Hatfield.” said IJp a low tone, “you might behave like a gentleman.” —.— “So I will,* 4 he retorted, with a shrug, “ when I find myself in company that calls for such measures.” r said no more, but leaning up against the side pf the door, prepared to make myself as comfortable as possible, until the train should stop at Stamford, its first w.ay . station, and some descending passengers might make room for me. Reader, dtd you ever stand in an express train in full motion? Did you ever feel yourself swayed backward and forward, bumping one of your phrenological developments against one side of the car, and bringing the base of your spinal column against the top of a seat at the opposite swerve of the train ? Did you ever grasp blindly at nothing for support? Did you ever execute an involuntary pas seui, by way of keeping your balance, and then grind your teeth to see the two pretty young ladies beyond laughing at your antics? If so, you will know how to pity nie during the hour and a half between B and Stamford. Hatfield went to sleep and snored; the old lady in the gigantic bonnet eat sandwiches and drank from a wicker flask of. excellently smelling sherry; the young lady sat as noiseless as a black-veiled statue; fretful babies whimpered; old gentlemen uttered strange sounds in their sleep; the lights flared like sickly moons overhead, and the shriek of the train as it flew through sleeping villages sounded like the yell of a fiery-throated demon. “Stamford!” bawled the conductor. At last I succeeded in dropping my weary and stiffened limbs into a seat, where slumber overtook me*in just a minute and. a quarter; for I had been asleep on toy legs once or twice, even in my former disadvantageous attitude, and I could scarcely Believe the evidence of my own senses when we finally thundered into the echoing vastness of the Grand Central Depot in New York. Hatfield, alive to the necessity of catching a car before all the world of travelers should crowd into it, stum-bled-over the old lady’s ankles With small ceremony. “Oh, take care! You have knocked 4he squirrel cage qver?” cried she. “Confound the squirrel cage!” shouted Hatfield, gnashing his teeth, as the ancient dame placed herself directly in the aisle to set the furry pet up again, thereby completely blocking up his egress. “ Serves yon right, Hatfield!” said I, as I stooped to assist. Just then the young companion! of our lady (imglng back her veil. “’Graiichna,” said she, “thecarriage is waiting. I’ll send Thomas for the parcels. Mr. Clifton, lam very much obliged to you for yoqr politeness to my grandmother, who is unused to traveling. As to Mr. Hatfield —the less sain about his courtesy the better.” And. Beatrice Hale’s black eyes flashed disdainfully on Clarence’s cowed visage. “Miss Hale,” he stammered, “if I’d had the least idea who you were ” “You would have regulated your conduct accordingly,” impatiently interrupted Miss Hale. “Thanks—l prefer to see people in * their true light. Mr. Clifton,” turning graciously to me, “you’ll call and see how grandma stands her journey, to-morrow, won’t you? Oh, thank you—the carriage is close by.” And to this day I believe that is the Way I won toy wife; for Clarence Hatfield was a brilliant showy sort of a fellow, who far outshone m@ in general society* and I think Bee had been disposed rather to fancy him until that night. But she was disenchanted now for good and all. And Grandma Hale cornea to see us every Christmas with a hamper of good things from Hale Farm.