Saturday Evening Mail, Volume 8, Number 6, Terre Haute, Vigo County, 28 July 1877 — Page 6

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THE MAIL

PAPER FOR THE PEOPLE.

JOH2SWT8 SOLILOQUY.

)BT MB8. AWN I* A. FBSSTOK.

"fit ee«m« k» "be flklher's greatest Joy TTo

T«llorbat

he did when he

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a boy.

-'•Nothing very wonderful, so far's I can see .and it seems preUy roogh on a fellow lilc me,

When I've worked like a man all the long summer day— jUid boys can get tlrtd, I don't care what they say— To have father declare, inhisevenlug chat, -".Wijen I was a boy 1 did better than thai.

*T wasbound out when I was a boy,

age

often went barefoot, having seldom a bat, And as for a coat, I was too poor for that. .Of ooane I had extra clothes In cold weather,

But the clothes were not broadcloth, JNor the boots patent leather." Then he talked of this and that wonderful

With Utile to wear and little to tat Hew be never went either to church or to school, Just picked nphls learning without guide or rule. And says* "John, to be sure, Is easy to learn, .jtui always elands flrsi at the close of the term.,* aSatlf Td us chance at books In my day,

I don't tb'nk yon'd have found me always at play." Nowl amjostas will neas can be to work, Nobody can call me a bit of a shirk, .1 don't ask for One clothes or frequent play days, Vor I know father's money hat plenty of ways: •But when 1 have done as well as I can,

They might i/eat me as though I'd some day be a man .il'm so ilred of the song father always has

sf-f-'k snng, +«i did better than that when I was young,

The Discarded Wife.

A ROMANCE OF THE AFFECTIONS.

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H. ARTHUR GRATTAN. «J*KMyra Graham," "Marion's

.Destiny,"

The Usurer's Daughteretc.

CHAPTER III.

THK BHEWING OF THE STORM.

Bbebad come at last! What mattered now the weary hours of waiting? What mattered the disappointments he bad suffered, now that she had com*?

They were all forgotten in that long, loving embrace, when he clasped his darting to his bosom—when, smoothing bask the rippling tresses of her soft brown hair, he gazed down, smiling IP through his tears, into his beloved one's

Well, and need he have felt ashamed of the moisture upon his eyelids? He was a brave

Bailor,

others failed tbeoi He had remained staunch and steady fi at his post when others had deserted -.V theirs, and, cowering in ableot terror. sneaked down below, where they had weakly hoped to find shelter and safety when the f-ost tipped waves reared mountains high around, and threatened io foil in upon him ana crush him and his £mllcrat

when

chase, and every rag of canvas was put -1n use to aid escape from death, and one

yV false step or rash act would have been -fatal wnen, at the dead of night, that

fstes? .most fearful of all alarms at sea, a ory of "Fire!' had arisen, and the calamity had been discovered too lato to hope to subdue the conflagration when the forked flames were licking the ship's side when the choking smoke was pouring fi .'forth in dense volumes from the port holes when women and children were 1 shrieking, the crew panio stricken, the 11 -1 »strongest men weak and helpless with

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K'i *'\. 0" Many a time and oft, under such ciroa instances, and in the midst of perils such as tbeseJ have described, had Edward Jerroid proved bis valor. He had •uo need of bravery now where there was no danger. Asihe nad at the proper time taeted like a man, he was at liberty now to feel like one and, if his great heart were full to bursting, might he not weep like a child, when safe and sound at last lie held the loved one tightly clasped in his strong arms?

ft is

&

He helaher back at arms' length, and

gated upon her tenderly. Her face a moment agu wwu flushed and teanul. Now again it had

ner

I should not have cared half so much I. I had not ireeu so -much alarmed about you. It is so lace, and the country ia ao lonely. Are you not a aid to be out In the dark? You used to be, you know.' •No, I am not at all afraid now,' she answered, with what he oould scarcely help fancying was something of a forced laugh. •But I am afraid upon your account,' said the Captaiu, in a gentle tone. 'You sfc won't runauoh riaks again, will you?

And where have you been?' What made the pallor of her young lfcoe again give place to a deep enmson blush?

She hid it from him. though, upon his shoulder and, instead of replying to his -question, toyed playtully vntnhts light early hair. 'I am so happy you ate come,'aha .. wild «I can hardly cafleve that it ia reality, though: it aeeaa like some uapff dream and! tremble with fsarlniftl should presently awake and findjpyaelf alone.'

They had maaj other matters to. talk about, that it was no wtmder that Jerroid forgot the question he had *sked awhile since, and disturbed himself no more about its answer.

By toe gveaMbh accident, aowerer, it came ronud again, aw! tho husband inquired where hb wife had hem.

She hesitated slighUy for a moment, and laughed, thoogb with alSgh* oonfwfcion.

4

How curious j-ou are!* she aauL

am a liuie curious,' be replug 'but am wrong?' •No, no. It Is no great secret and yet you shouldn't aakif Idont tell you. «I wont salt, then, If fa* wish me not to do so.'

4

You foolish fellow,' she said, playfully, 'as 'if I oould have any reason for wishing yon not to know it.'

And here she laughed so musically, and looked so young and pretty. be oou'd think of nothing else but kissing her again, and so the matter dropped once more.

Sood,

who often enough

had faced death in awful forms. He had been calm and bold when the hearts of

pirates were giving

She

li grown deathlike initspalior. evidently very much fatigued and agi tated. She trembled so greatly that sh o-'-f l%\ could scarcely stand, and certainly could

WAS i-

V. not have done so had not bis strength supported her. 'My poor Eleanor,'he said, in a voice that was sunk to atone soft and musical as a woman's,'I was-very wrong to come so suddenly I have frigutened you, have

I not?' •No, no, darling.'she made reply.'Not «. all. I wouldn't care apiuibr twice the bright, If such a result were alwayscertain of following it. .Butryou wete very -wrong, though, inonething.' »,...:.v 'What was thai?' 'In not writing to tell me when I was to expect you.' 'It was a mistake on my part,'raldtbe heneat Capla'n, with a smile which was .perhaps a little rueful. 'But I did it for the oeat, you know.-and «l am sure of v&at, -Edward. But see how you have Lad to wait. You have been waiting a long while, have you not?' •An hour or two. "But never mind tha.

xl

It was, however, presently a question of the trees which had been felled in front of the bouse. Why had it been

'They were blown down by the wind,' said Eleanor, hesitating slightly. 'Blown down!' cried Jerroid, in surprise. 'I had no idea that the wind was ever so strong in this sheltered spot. Was there a hurricane?' 'Yes,' replied the wife.

5

'By the way,' said Jerroid, after an awkward pause of a moment's duration, 'you did not tell me why old Martha had

'She has gone into the country to live with some relatives, dear. I wrote to you all about it, didn't 1?'

1

'I don't think so.' 'Oh, yes I did, though the letter must have miscarried.'

What was there so extraordinary, in the circumstance? The Captain of course did not for a moment doubt that the letter had been written, but he was much vexed because he had not received the letter. 'She always said she had no relations alive,' he remarked presently. 'It seems that she was mistaken, dear.

This subject, too, was soon abandoned for more agreeiable topics but, though the Captain now endeavored to the utmost to be light hearted and happy, a heavy weight seemed to prens upon his heart.

He could not help seeing that there was a strange oonfusion in his wife'fe manner, though he oould not account for the cause.

Certainly it seemed that during his absence things appeared somewhat to have gone wrong. Something was concealed. Wbat was it? Never to his knowledge bad there ever existed any secrets between them. Were there any now? 'What makes yon so thoughtful dear?' she asked. 'Nothing,' replied the Captain, with an effort.

As yet there was nothing: for the storm which was brewing had not yet burst forth.

While Edward Jerroid was ^waiting his wife's return by the side of his lone ly hearth, his friend, Peroy Hardwicke, smoking a cigar, strolled leisurely up the hill toward the village. There was a tolerable intt there, considering the smallnessof the place, for it was sup-

orted by the families in the neighborwhich was a hunting one. The landlord, Joseph Miles, had been head groom to the lord of the manor, and had married one of the upper servants when retiring from his situation, b?s mastar bad kindly set him up in business at the 'Blue Dragon.'

It was not a neighborhood, however, where there was any chance of fortune making, so that, near on twenty years after the house first came into Joseph Mi lei' bands, it wai still a small country inn, yet it bad certainly acquired a favorable reputation for some miles round, both on account of the goodness of its liquors and the beauty of its landlord's daughter—Phebe Miles, the villftso belle. erbaps a passing glimpse of the rosy oheeks and dark eyes of this pretty damsel, standing at the inn door, may have had something to do in determining Percy Hardwicke to go to *her father's house.

Perhaps, too, he bad become rather fearful, a »er the specimen a'-eady provided, that the Captain's hou3e might not prove so comfortable as be had at fiist suspected. 'I will take mine ease at mine inn,' thought the young officer, as he strolled onward. 'I sban7t be bored quite so much there as I dare say I should be by the Captain's wife. A dreadful provin

my mind after I have had a look at the lady.' It waa very dark, and Mr. Hardwicke had to make the very best use of his eye*, or he would certainly have come to the ground more than once, in consequence of the unevenness of the road, and the somewhat extraordinary bulla of the stiles he had to elimb over on his WAT*

He had to pass over sevetal field* to reach the viilaTp, and in time arrived at a stile from which «wo paths ran almost at right angles, at the sight of which he came io a sudden halt, and began to oonsider.

Which way should he turn? FVr 'be life of him he could not clearly recollect which way he had come, and it waa now so dark that there was no making out the truth by aid of any land marks.

All ahead was black as pitch, and not the faintest lipht glimmered in any of the windows of the village houses-thai he oould see. It might have been a village of the dead.

As be had no wish to wander at random in the dark, and perhaps go miles out of his way, he thougat the wisest course for him to pursue under these circumstances was to take a seat upon the topmost rail of the sU'e, and make op his mind to wait until he sa*r somebody he oould ask.

This, how ever, a(ler a few moments' trial, appeared to him to be lkeiy to prove komewbat wearisome, for it wa«t very probable that the rustic population had all gone to bed, and that nobody would pass by until early next moinlng.

Coming to this conclusion, he was about tomve on again, taking one of the paths at random, when suddenly he heard the sound ot approaching footsteps.

In another moment he oould hear a woman's voice speaking In low bat earnest tones, although he'oould not distinguish the: words.

Then, at some few yards' distance, the persona—there were two. as well as he oould judge—came to a halt, and, after a ftw half muttered words, psu id. une recreated and the other advanced. Tb* latter wsa a female.

Where Peicy Hardwicke sat, even had the night been lees dark, it would have been very easy for the person advancing toward him to have discerned the outline of Ms form.

As it w«a, however, the woman was close upon Dim before she perceived bis presence.

Then, with a alight seiean^aliB started back—then hrsuly retreated. Peicy Hardwicke was at fl.4t surprised, afterwards curious.

By the Imperfect light be fended It mn»t be none other than tbe Lfcautifui Pucebe, wfedtn he had seen afc&r &th «r*sdoor.

It was lust about Phoebe's height and figure, if by chance it should pe, what

HAUTE 8ATUBi)Af«EV

a caKtal opportunity for making her ao-

When this Idea oeeurred to the languid young rerv it prompted him to quite unusual exertion.

Jumping down from the stile, be, without any further hesitation, followed with snch rapidity thtt, ere the flying damsel bad got half adosen yards ai from the spot, Hardwioke*s finger's

ipidity

dameel bad got half adoeenyardaaway en circled her waist.

She struggled for a moment desperat el was pan tears. 'Dont be afraid, my dear,'add Hard wlcke, smiling. *1 wonld not harm you for the world. There's no ooeasion for snch alarm.'

At the sound ot his voice she appeared to regard blm attentively, bat she wore a thick veil, which effectually ooncealed her face.

When first he had seised her her fright was unmistakable but it appeared that the chief cause of itwss that she had mistaken Hardwicke for spme other person.

Wnen, however, she found that he was a stranger, her fear seemed almos» entirely to abate, and In its plans siose a sudden anger. 'Release me, sir,' sbe cried. 'I do not know you!' 'We cannot too soon make each other's acquaintance, then/ said the smiling gentleman. •Release me!' she cried, in a passionate tone, again struggling to free hercelf. •You do not know to whom you are 'That fa eractly the knowledge I wish to obtain,' he aguravatingly replied, can not even think of letting until I have seen that pretty yours.'

She made some low ejaculation, which sounded like a smothered sob, and then struggled desperately.

But her assailant's strength was much greater than one would expect in a gentleman with such languid airs.

With the greatest ease, in spite of her wild endeavors to break loose from him he held her fast.

He placed his strong arm round her shrinking waist. He drew her toward him, and pulling down her hands, with which she vainly endeavored to defend herself, snatched off her veil.

It was a very handsome face that, which had hitherto been concealed from him but ik. its flushed cheeks and flashing eyes were greater signs of rage than be had anticipated—a contemptuous expression, too, which somewhat aston isbed him.

For the first time, then, a faint suspi cion occurred to him that he had made a very great mistake.

This was no country damsel with whom he had to deal. He had evidently insulted some lady. Probably one of the Captain's rich neighbors.

In that case, he foresaw a host of unpleasant results, which but a short while ago he had been far from expecting.

Percy Hardwicke glanced somewhat uneasily down at the silk dress that she wore, at the valuable shawl, and the bracelets glittering upon her wrists above the neatly fitting gloves covering her delii ate little hands. 'Plague take these pitch dark nights!' he invcluntarily muttered to himself as be gazed upon her with a rather sheepish expression and he was upon the eve of meditating an apology, when a strong arm grasped him from behind, and, ere he baa time to turn, a heavy blow upon the back of his bead dashed his hat over his eyes, end sent him staggering forward to a distance of several

Turning and facing bfs assailant as soon as he oould recover himself from the effects of this unexpected attack, be found before him a short, thick set fellow of sporting and slangy appeal ance. as well &s tie darkness of the n'ght would allow hm to judge, who wore a white hat very much on one side of his head, and waa smoking a cigar. 'Well, fellow,' cried Hardwicke wrathfully, 'what do you want?' *TI same to you!' the stranger male answe.'. 'Cant yoa leave the lady alone when yoa see your oompsuy's not wanted.' 'I', will not be you who will make me do

HO!'

said Hardwicke, savagely, and at the same time he made a rush upon the other man.

But he bad not calculated apon having such a formidable assailant. In another moment they bad cloeed together, ard were wrestling with all their strength.

The nest, and Hardwicke was slung heavily to the ground, where be lay sileat and motionless, stunned by the fall. 'Good heavens!' the lady exclaimed, clasping her bands in alarm. 'Have you LiPed him?' 'Wuat'athe odds?' the other replied with a coo.se laugh. 'I don't care if I have.' 'I hope be is not seriously burt!' the womau faltered. 'Who is he? Do you know?' •Never raw him before that I am aware of. Th -i's all the luckier for you, too. It is to be hoped he is a stranger. •Did you not hear me cry out?' said the woman. 'If yon bad come a moment sooner, he would not have seen my face.' •If it had not been for some over oration the accident would never have happened!' grumbled her companion. 'You wee so mightily afraid that Isbould be seen!' 'WelU' 'The consequence of which is that yoa have been seen yourself by goodne&r knows who!'

The woman made no answer to this and they walked slowly toward le, her companion helping her over ln«o the nest fiald. •f«er they had prooeeded seme little distance, liowever, tbe woman paused again and said, •Yoa mast not go any nearer the house.' •What?' •Yoa most not go any further.' 'You will come to aome fresh harm, perhaps?' •No, no. I am quite close home now. Good night!' *Good night!' said the ifltaa, •way.

speech,am the utile,

She laid her hand upon his arm, however, before he got beyond her reach, and said, in a low and earnest tone,

Yoa will think over what I have been "^fcs^he answersd, rather sulkily. •You will not refuse my offtr!?^

4

•I will think it over.' 'Do—do, for mercy's sake! IM me pray of you to got'

But, as tbe man onhr replied by a gesture of tmpati«moe,ahe added, In a low but aogrv tone, 'At any rate yoa must leave tids place. Why do you

oa must know that your here moat* foouer or

ton

lead to the discovery of all. go! I say yoa sball gor Til go anywhere where I teroJt/replied tbe man. tbat weU enougb. Get money!'

*1 cannot,' •Then I shall not stir.' She stamped her foot, and glared at him with fierce, flashing eyes. Bat

igedlM

without making^*my rejoinder, she abruptly turned away, and, at a rapid paee, descended Into the valley, the darkness of which soon swallowed ber 'Silean while Percy Hardwicke slowly his band oonfusedly

to his teet, and, laying his *, gazed

upon his aching head around. His foot struck cLini?'°tb*

nst some object oh emitted a tiny

Kram'w]

He stooped and raised It. It was a bracelet. 'Aba!' said he to himaalf 'this must belong to our fair friend. There's some mystery attached to it, or I am very much mistaken. If there Is, I fancy! cantprofit by this little accident.'

And Mr. Hardwicke. In spite of bis sohing head, contrived to smile blandly at the thought.

CHAPTER IV.

AN UGLY iCK AT THK WINDOW.

Though it was certainly rather a late hour tor a village Inn, when Mr. Percy Hardwicke made his appeal to Josepn Miles, the'Bine Dragon'had not yet closed Its shutter? tbr light.

It was, indeed, a hostelry given to somewhat late houij—to stopping np till midnight, for it was much frequented by trainers, and grooms, and spotting

Gfe

arsons generally, who loved to live the of crows when they were taking their esse.

The village street was dark and silent enough, and Percy Hardwicke's footsteps echoed noisily npon the pavement.

At the sound, a housedog burst out, barking with great fOry,* and another dog, and then another, following his example, they bow-wowed themselves out of breatb, and went grumbling io sleep, laboring under a deep sense of In

Ju3

Miles was to be seen smoking pipe with a particular friend in the barparlor. Mrs. Miles c~me bustling ont to meet tbe stranger, and a glimpse of Phoebe's pretty face was only barely obtainable around the corner of the Btaircase.

When Percy Hardwicke had explained his errand, tbe landlady readily professed herself able to afford him sleep ing accommodation, but there was some difficulty respecting a private room. 'I don't care about privacy,' replied Hardwicke, 'anywhere will do.' 'I'm sure it's very good of you to say so, sir,'Isold the landlady 'but I don't like showing you into the common room, and two gentlemen from London have taken the beet private parlor.' 'I won't intrude upon them,' answered the smiling gentleman. 'Don't dream of disturbing them upon my account, I beg. The common room will do quite well enough for me.' 'It's almost closing time,' said the landlady, thoughtfully 'and,perhaps, might as well turn them out.' 'Pray don't turn any one out.' 'I am sure he's been there long enough.' 'Pray don't consider me. 'And hasn't given an order for the last two hours.' 'Who's that, mother?'asked the pretty Phoebe, who had come down stairs to look at the new comer, and now joined in the conversation. 'Who?' answered the landlady, pettishly 'why, that fellow, Ronrke, to be sore.'

What has he been doing?' Doing?' retprted the landlady 'What does be ever do, except loaf about and drink himself silly, I should like to know?' 'Yon ought not to grumble at people's drinking,' said Miss Phoebe, pert ^'1 don't want bis custom, at any rate,' replied tbe landlady: 'and I shall show him the door, there!' 'I hope yonr mother is not doing it on my account, though,' said Percy Hardw»cke, with one of his most winning smiles, 'particularly If it causes yoa any annoyance. Say, shaH I intercede In favor of our friend, Mr. Ronrke?' 'Do what yoa please,'answered Miss Phoebe, slightly tossing ber pie»ty head 'But do not think I care a penny for the fellow, for I don't.'

She turned away with this, and Mr. Percy, showing his white teeth, followed tbe landlady.

As be entered the room, toward which she had, a mtaute ago, bent her steps, he found her in conversation *Hha rough, dirty looking fellow, apparently a blacksmith, who said, angrily, as he entered, 'That's him, I suppose. Ob, very well if my company'.* too low for the house, I'll take it where It's better appreciated—that's all!'

The man rose to his feet with these words, snd swayed unsteadily to and fro, for he was evidently intoxioated. Then, with a defiant glare at the landlady, he moved toward the door. 'There, go along!' said Mrs. Miles, picking up a glass from the table as sbe oke, and looking after him angrily, ou've had more than enough this evening, and you're not sober, or you'd not talk such nonsense. Don't fall down if yon can help it.

The man looked at ber savagely, but he made remarks.

no reply to these taunting

On his way oat, however, he stopped in front of Peroy Hardwicke, and stared him fiercely in the face.

The yonng officer returned the steadCut gace with Interest. 'I'm not company for the-likes of you, I suppose,' said the drunken blacksmith swaying to and fro as he spoke. 'I shoe honscs. Wbat do yoa do?'

Break heads/ replied Hardwicke, calmly. Tbe blacksmith scowled savagely, and tried io stand more steadily. •Wboee beads?' he presently asked in a thick voice.

But before Percy oould make any reply—perbapa not an unfortunate occurrence either, for blows were pretty certain to have quickly followea such unpromiaing dialogue—Miss Phoebe peered at the door, and called the bk

t-

MAIL!

nclinesa awful to look apon Hardwl smiles.

an

smith by So sudden a change ss the sound of the pretty girl's voice earned in the blackamlth*S appearance and behavior* it wonld be diflicait to describe straightening himself by a violent effort, he togged at his forelock, while tbe savage ex hla grimy tee gave rhloh but

way was

simper, wi

e,' said Pbeebe, why doyju

not do what my mother tells you, qulet'.y?' •1 was going—I——f *, *Oo, then, at once!' aonly-r--' I

Tbe rou£ft ferfei* made no further attempt to speak, bat alunk toward the outer door. ..

More like' laabed £b than the bully be seemed to be a few momenta ago, the burly ruffian aneaked paitthe angry village beaaty. fire he peescd ont Into the street, however, he cast one scowling glance tow art hard

falUtf afknuUBh vinfttdcseA its uatoial

very qaeer customer, that,'said wlcke, with one of his

•An ujjlyjone If you vex him, sir,' said

the

The gentfeman has done so, already, mother/ observed Pheebe: 'and you know how revengeful Rourke is.' 'If I only bsve a protector In you,' said Haridwioke, In a low tone, 'I shall feel quite safe.'

But when he waa presently left alone, he oould not look upon the events of tbe last half hoar or so with any amount of satisfaction. 'This seeirta to be very pugilistic neighborhood,' he obeerved, to himself, as ne lit a cigar: 'and I've managed to make two enemies out of my first two acquaintances. As to love affairs, there is promise of a little courting, certainly, but it will be under difficulties, My mysterious friend has a very ugly hanger-on, but the pretty young Hebe's here ia several abadea more ferocious. Egad! if I don't take particular care, it's likely I shall get murdered among them.

It waa, it must be confessed, rather a dreary subject for a joke, and yet Percv Hardwicke smiled as he thus reflected, perhape feeling oonfidentof his safety. The candle by his side was burning with winding sheet, and the ooruersoi the room, a few yards distant, were en velopedlndc shadows. Tbe wind was whistling nurnfully without, and things ganerally bore a dreary and dispiriting aspect, whch, however, the hot negus in his tumbler and tbe fragrant cigar which he held between his lips could not dispel.

The traveler shivered, and half rose to his feet, thinking he would be much more comfortable in bed.

But, as he was rising, he accidentally cast his eyes toward the window, ana was suddenly transfixed by the sight which met his gaze.

Close to the glass, upon the other side, wss squeezed a man's face, eagerly peering at hla.

An ugly face it was, with an unshaven chin, busby eyebrows, and great, fierce eyes, bloodshot and protruding.

It was the face of the blacksmith, who was watching him, with the same look of vindictive mal'ce Hardwicke had noticed when he left the Inn.

CHAPTER V. MYSTERY.

The greatest unbeliever in woman's truth must have believed that Eleanor's delight in her husband's return was unfeigned, sincere and genuine.

But no it was as impossible that she could to acting false, as tbat the simple hearted husband who doted upon ber could have been brought, at that time, to believe in her treachery.

There camo a day, though, when the evidence grew overwhelming—when tbe criminating facts came rapidly, one upon the other—when the damning truth forced itself upon bis horror stricken mind.

But that was not yet. There still remained a few short hours of happiness.

Tue storm was brewing fast. The thunder clouds were growing blacker and blacker, rfnd more threatening but as yet the hurricane bad not burst forth, as soon it would, with overwhelming fury.

It waa a very happy day this, which followed Edward Jerrold's return to his home.

It was a bright, sunny day, too, the yery reverse of that which preceded it Yesterday was winter—to-day was midsummer. Such changes are of common occurrence in this uncongenial climate of ours, in this dear old mother oountry: people would rather stand it than

Jerroid supposed tbat his friend Hard wlcke would nave put in an appearance early in the day, but in this expectation he was dissappeared.

He then came to the conclusion that Hardwicke supposed tbat Jerroid ooght to go and fetch him. Perhaps be #as offended.

Eleanor thought this very probable, and gave it as ber opinion that Percy Hardwicke .must have thought their oonduct extremely rude in turning him out over night, alter inviting him to stay at their bouse. •But be persisted in going,' said Jer rold. *1 tried all I possibly oould to make him stay here until you returned, but he would not do so. And then you were so late, and we had no idea where—by tbe way, my dear, where you?'

He had forgotten all about tbe subject, until chanoebrought It up again In this wfty.

The mystery, however, is very soon solved Throwing her arms around his neck, and kissing him while she spoke though not looking In bis faoe, Eleanor answer-

•I was acting the 'Good Samaritan,' if you must know. There ia a very poor woman In tbe village who is ill, ana sbe —she has led a very wlcLed life, and tbe lady visitors don't like to go near her, so bhe is left all by herself, in a wretched little room, where she lives, or rather starves, w/tbout a soul to care for her. Therefore, I thought I would go and—1 know you don't mind it, do you?—you dont think I should have turned away as tbe others did, because she had sinned?' 'Bless yon! bless you, my own brave hearted Nelly!' said the sailor, straining her to h's breaa- 'why, were you afraid of telling me before?' 'Yes!' she answered, blushing deeply, and half crying, half laughing ss she spoke. You are not angry, are you?' 'An^ry!' he exclaimed in astonishment,'why ahoa'd I be? By Jove, I shou'd have been awfully vexed, though, If you hadn't gone to see the poor creature, If she'a really in a bed way.'

And then be would have kissed ber for her goodness, but. breaking away from nim, sbe barst into a violent fit of sobbing, which was as unexpected as it was astonishing to the simple sailor.

In vain, however, be strove to oonsole be? or tit ascertain tbe cause of her tea's, l'or some time she persisted In sileaoe, repulsing his caresses, imploring him to leave ber.

Bat *?er, almost as suddenly as the fit of weeping oame on, she dried her eyes and burst into smiles.

Edward Jerroid looked at her in amar anient. 'Am I not foolish?' said Eleanor. Jerroid, indeed, scarce knew what reply to make to Uria very pertinent inquiry. 'Ail women are riddles,'said be that's a proverb.'

Then Tam only like the rest, so dont balme me. Bat by-tbe-by, about your friend?' •What about blm?' •Why hasnt be come?*

Icantimagiaa.' 'Heougbt to bsve been here by now. It's 12 o'clock.', don't Wiat ttfzy about It.' answered Jeriold, thoughtfully 'but I'll go for Mm at any iat I hope I shan't arias bim onthe way. tboagh.' ddtfii "Tou wont

that, I should think.

Hawfll come by the field*, wont be?' *1 dont know. I told fte toad lis* sight* fccctt

Mmto go by I was afraid

that be might lose his way in the dark.' 'That waa a good plan. If he had gone by tbe fielda be would have been certain to have gone wrong. It was snch a dreadful night.

The Captain did not think he was justified in wasting any more time, and therefore set out stance upon his errand.

If you must know the candid truth, he would very muoh have preferred Hardwicke's room to bis company, aa he was much happier alone with Eleanor than be oould be in the presence of a comparative stranger, but then he was too much of a gentleman to willfully be guilty of a want of courtesy.

Tbe Captain, walking rapidly across the fields, was very soon In front of the door of the'Blue Dragon.' 'Was a gentleman stopping there—a gentleman who had come lato the previous evening?' I

Mrs. Miles answered him, and said,

t, but tha

first thing in the morning with all the,. rest. Gone!' ejaculated the Captain. ei&'i 'Ob, yeel' replied tbe landlady, evidently very much out of temper. 'Everybody Koea out but me! But I've got to and keep it rVygot to do, If you

s»ay at home, if you please, natlVygot suppose I ought

houie! 1 hat's wi please, audi thank till'

I ought to feel

The Captain thonght he had come at a wrong time to make inquiries. Yet he most know wbat bad become of his friend.

He, therefore, after a moment's hesitation, returnee to the charge. •Have you any idea where he has gone ma'am?' •Ob, where all the rest are gone, I suppose!' •And where may that be?' 'Oh, at the fair, to be sure!' 'The fair?' 'Bless me, sir, haven't you heard of it? I wonder you're not there too!' 'My ignorance is my exouse, ma'am, I suppose.' 'It's Wellwood fair, to be sure! That's where he's gone, too! There's where my good-for-nothing, idle daughters aregone, too! And my husband, he's gone out on business, so he says, I don't know whether it's the same road or not, but I expect it Is, If tbe truth were known!'

Capt. Jerroid le.t word for his friend, that as soon as he returned he was to come over to his home, and mentioned the dinner hour. Then retraced his ateps.

There certainly seemed to be considerable truth in toe landlady's statement that everybody bad gone to the fair.

The little village, at the best of times wore a somewhat sleepy aspect. Old women were always to be seen dozing over half mended stockings on cottage doorsteps. Vagabond boys and vagabond dogs everlastingly slumbered 1n the sun. Not unfrequentiy a drunken man was to be seen slumbering in olose proximity io the pump, to which bis inebriated condition must, if it had any feelings, have been a very great scandal. There was a sleepy mill on the slope of the hill, whioh was at rest at least four days out of the nix, whioh the villagers faoetlously called working ones. The mill stream crept lizily through the flat green meidows where well favored kine chewed the cud in a seml somnambulant state, or a drowsy headed shepherd's boy, with the aid of a dog, who snored in spite ol the gnats and other inoonvenienoes, looked after a flock of fat sheep much too Idle to run away, and lacking energv for any kind of active mischief.

This wss in tne summer time, but during winter tbe poor little place appeared to die out altogether.

To-day the vagabond boys and dogs had gone. The old women were indoors out of sight, if they were not holiday making with the youngsters. The proverbial dru»ken man had gone elsewhere to take his liquor and his sleep. All the male population had departed, ar.d, though there was a distant sound of shrill female voioes audible—the voices of ill used wives left at home by their wo* thlesispouses—these ladles were not as usual, at their wash tubs, but were taking heir rest over their baok yard railings, and screaming out their grievauc to their next door but one neighbora.

As Edward Jerroid walked slowly down wbat was ostentatiously designated by its inhabitants'The Steel/ he looked in vain for any signs of a male creature. 'Tney're all fcone eertainly,' thought he. 'I wonder what the great attraction can be. However any change can not but be greedily snapped at by the dwell' er% iu this dreary little place,- I hope tbey will enjoy .themselves, 1 am sure^ tbooga 1 do' not envy them, fhere is* cnange enough for moat bomef

Be quickened his steps,a?the thought of the pretty lace peeping out for him1 tiirougn tbe «re covered porch recurred to bis iecollecii.u.

Sae was waiting for bin*! How happy sbe would be to see hico coming buck aga!n, and not tbe less perhaps, because* he came back alone.

Tbe village 'smitny' stood at the corner of tne lane leading toward tbe pathway crosftiog the fields. At its door tbe Captain fouud seated tbe first man wrom he had yet encountered during hla walk.

Yes, there sat tbe black sheep of the village, Jabez Ronrke. He was not a pretty objeot, squatting there Witu Hi* bead resting on bis bauds and his tbick matted hair straggl'ng over his sallow face, smeared with a week's dirt. A streak of suo light penciling th/ough a crevice in the roof, now and then played upon bis eyes, and made him tillnk and growl but he to be too idle to get out of its reach. •t the sound of Edward Jerrold's approaching fooustepa, th»s ill conditioned creature raised bis nead, aud stared at tbe sailor comically. •Good day, my man,' said the Ceplain, in a kindly tone.

But Rourke made no reply. 'How is it that you have not gone merry making with the rest?' asked Jerroid, who supposed tbat the other conld not have her rd bis first salutation.

Because I stopped away,' answered tbe blacksmith, surlily. The Captain colored slightly, for the rudeness was unexpected. He, however was not to be ao easily daunted, and he smilingly continued, 'It's not becaufte business is to pressing, at any rate,'he said.

What's my business got to do with yoa?' asked tbe blacksmith fiercely. 'Do ou pay me to work? Do I rob you when take my rest? .Let me be, can't you, and mind your own business, if yon'Ve got any I'

The Captain looked down upon this unlicked cub in some wonder, at be answered, kindly: 'Dcn't take offense, good fellow, where none is meant. What ha* happened, pray, to put you out? If you tell cue what it is, 1 shall be happy to help you if 1 can."

The blacksmith scowled at him savagely for a moment, as though he seemed to ibi ok there waa aome intended 1% salt in the question. &

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