Terre Haute Weekly Gazette, Terre Haute, Vigo County, 27 August 1885 — Page 10

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A FAMILY AFFAIR.

By HUGH CONWAY,

Author of "Called Back" and "Dark Days."

CHAPTER XI."

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"MORBID'S THH WOKDp*"

Thanks to the remarkably fine air of Oakbury, and to an absolute cessation of anything ike hard work, Mr. Carruthers soon lost his Jaded appearance. At the end of ten days he declared himself to be in rude health, and his looks did not belie his words. Certainly those worthy housewives, his cousins, had taken great care of him. They fed and fattened him insisting that he should take beef tea at Intervals, and that his cure should be hastened by his drinking plenty of that old '47 port for which their father's cellar had been noted. Close as the "Tabbies" were in their housekeeping arrangements, they grudged the stranger within their gates nothing.

In less than a week Frank had taken the measure at his cousins—of bis male cousins, at least, fie had even ceased to be seized with an almost irresistible desire to go into a secluded corner and chuckle when he st^» these great men engaged in some duty which is Supposed to appertain peculiarly to womenkind or when he heard their simple consultations on the price of meat, groceries, oi other household commodities. Being, like Mr. Mordle, gifted with a vein of humor, found the Talberts most interesting characters but had he found their eocentricitiei wearisome, the kindness they showed him would have compensated for the discomfort. For in spite of the exclusiveness which the were compelled by circumstances to adopt, they were amiable, lovable men. So Mr. Carruthers took them as they were, end liked the two brothers better and better the more he really understood them.

But Beatrice was another matter. He had studied her with even more attention, but felt that the result of his studies was unsatisfactory. So ffcr as she was concerned h« knew he had got at nothing liko the truth: except on one self-evident point, that she wat very bteautifui. When first they met hei beauty struck him, but it was days before he finished finding new and fresh personal charms perhaps he never ceased finding them. Under oertain circuinstancos sucb discoveries are endless.

Frank Carruthers' studies of Miss Clauson't outward shell should therefore have been very p1a"""g to ttmt young lady, had the result been made known to her, and had she cared twopence to find favor in the student'? eyes. For the Mat he was in a puzzle, which he spent many hoars trying to solve. Mia Clauson little thought, as she looked out oi the window uui saw Mr. Carruthers lying on the turf with his straw hat tilted over hie eye»%nd a thin blue stream of smoke curling up from his cigarette, that he was neither flioopfog nor projecting a new political article for The Latterday, but thinking entirely of her own sweet Self.

They seen a great deal of one another gyring the last week. Frank was not a man who loved twenty-mile walks, or cared to rush from one end of a county to another to look at a rock or a waterfalL His idea of a holiday he summed up in the word "loafing." "A geod loafer is a great rarity." he told ifimt Clauson. "Loafing proper is an art which oannot be acquired. I hirve met with many spurious Imitations, but the real article is hard to find. Show me the man who caa spend a whole day like this, and you show mt one who can get very near to happiness.'' "Like this" meant lying on his back as deumbtd. "But you do soinething—y6u smoke," said Beatrice. "Yes, for the sake of appearances. Id these days of hard work a man mustn't be absolutely idle."

Of course she ought to have laughed at the feeble joke. But she did not. She looked down at him from her chair, and her gray eyes were utnoyingly serious. In gloriout August weawer, when the sky is a cloudless blue, when all the trees, except the spendthrift chestnuts, are in full beauty, when roses are still budding, breaking into bloom, and succeeding their fallen fellows, a young lady has no right to look seriously at the man by her side. Certainly not Beatrice Clauson, with her beauty and fortune.

Yet she looked and spoke gravely. "You wrong yojurself talking such nonsense, Mr. Carruthers."

He raised himself on his elbow. "I don't toilr nonsense. 1 am speaking of my idea of 'enjoying a holiday. When I work it ia another matter. I trust I work to the best of my ability. When I idle, I idle to the best of my ability." "Your idea of human happiness is a humtie one." "Is it! Then give me yours in exchange."

Beatrice was silent. She even turned her head away. "Well, I am waiting for the definition.* There was no trace of levity in Frank's voice 'as he spoke. His manner was as serious at her own. "I have none to give," said Beatrice. "None—at your agel Are your dre&ttu mil gone? Young ladies do dream, I believe.

They dream of being queens of society, of marrying rich men if they are romantic, oi marrying poor men they dream of a life oi religion of having a mission to perform. Which is your particular dream f' "I have none," she said coldly. "You must dream. You are sleeping now, and all sleepers dream at times. Only in the wide-awake, bustling world do people forge? their dreams. They work on and on, and to some the day comes on which one of hoir old dreams is realized. Alas, by that time thoy have almost forgotten that they ever dreamed it, or they find it realized coo late."

Beatrice sat silent with her eyes cast down. "Perhaps I have not guessed the right dream for you," continued Carruthers. "I forgot you were such a learned young lady. Your dream may be the fame of the scholar or the writer." "I have no dreams," she repeated. He looked her full in the face. 'Can you say also 'I have had no dreams f"

She made no answer. As ha looked at her he thought that even at this moment she seemed far away in dreamland. He told himself that if Miss Clauson brought herself to assert that she had never dreamed she would be breaking the—he couldn't remember which commandment—the one about lying. By the by, is there any commandment to refrain from falsehood, except the indirect one as to "false witness!" "Not oven of rank, riches, fame, powsrP he said in a lighter tone. "Miss Clausen, you are incomprehensible.''

She chose to turn the sub jeet. "I ant going to the village now," she said. "With your permission I will accompany jeu."

She made no objection. It is a curious fact, that in spite of his gloriieatioa of the noble art of loafing* Mr. Qarrufeen was alwaj?

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ready to go walking witn ansa ciauson wnerever and whenover she permitted it. But no man is consistent for twenty-tour hours at a stretch.,

"I have no dreams," she repeated. Mr. Carruthers, in his attempted study of Beatrico's disposition, found it very hard to hit upon the word which would, so far as he as yet know, describe its chief characteristics. That a strong element of sadness was mixed up in it he felt sura It was just possible that this was introduced by the unfortunate differences between herself and lior father. Having learnt that she had been a guest at Oakbury for eight months ha was shrewd enough to make a pretty correct guess at the true state of affairs. But thero was more than sadness to account for. There was apathy. How ever the Talberts viewed it—whatever highbred charm they fancied was vouchsafed to

Clauson by the bestowal of that reeorved Kim mnnnwr of hers, Frank knew its true nature was apathetic. It seemed strange that

an

intellectual girl like this had no desire, or no revealed desire, in life—no ambition, soda] or otherwise. From the very first he judged her character by a high standard—quite as high as that by which he judged her beauty. As their intercourse grew more familiar he found he had no reason to abate either. Naturally,. Frank Carruthers, fellow of college, Oxford, was a clever man, and after taking so much trouble about the matter, should have been able te sum up a weak woman's character correctly.

So, after a great deal of reasoning, he came to the conclusion that he had found the word to suit her. Beatrice Was morbid. Evory one knows that the best cure for morbidness is to awakon the patient's interest in his or her fel-low-creatures—in even one fellow-creature will sometimes do.

Therefore, it was very kind of Dr. Carruthers, after such an exhaustive diagnosis, to sot about endeavoring to effect a cure. A good action will sometimes bring its own reward.

His view of the case was greatly strengthened by noticing that Beatrice never appeared to better advantage than when she had her little boy with her. It was the interest she ccok in this tiny fellow-croature which made her for the time display those qualities which all unmarried men, with right ideas, so exalt in a woman—affection, TriTiHnAsa and forbearance with children. Single men, if they are good and poeticalsynonymous terms, I hope—are apt to think that a woman never looks more charming than when she has a child or children with her. Sometimes, after- marriage, they have been known to express a wish that the association need not be so eternal.

But although Mr. Carruthers decided that Beatrice was morbid, he had still to account for the appearance of the disease in a mental constitution which ought to have been the last to have succumbed to it.

The more he tried to aocount for itthe more he was forced to accept, as the primary cause, one thing-1-* thing, even in these early days, most unpleasant and unpalatable to him. But he could not Ignore the fact that young ladies who are victims to what is called an unfortunate attachment do* seinetimes grow morbid and try to make their friends believe that life for them is at an end.

So one evening, shortly after his arrival at Hazlewood House, Frank asked his hosts, oi course in the most casual, disinterested way, many leading questions about Miss Clauson— why she was not married, or at least engaged, and so forth. The Talberts returned their old answer that it was time she thought about it, but perhaps she took after themselves, and was not of a marrying disposition. This Mr. Carruthers ventured to doubt* "She may have been disappointed in love," he said, carelessly. All the same he refilled from the claret jug the glass from which he had been drinking 1S47 port. "My dear Frank," said Horace, with grave dignity, "Miss Clauson would never permit such a thing to happen." "Certainly not," said Herbert rv, "Permit what? Permit herself to fall in lovol" "No permit herself to be disappointed in love. She is far too—too well bred for such a thing to occur. When she makes her choice it will be one of which we all approve so disappointment is out of the question." "That's highly satisfactory," said Frank. "A well regulated young woman is the noblest work of—well, of modern times."

They were by now getting accustomed to him, and although rather shocked at Bear trice's being called a young woman did not show it. "Then her choice is not yet mader continued Frank. "Not to our knowledge, and, I may add, not to Sir Maingay's."

Mr. Carruthers asked no more questions. He strolled out into the garden talked quietly to Miss Clauson until the stars showed themselves in the sky.

Having ascertained that Miss Clauson wai under the charge of no other amateur doctor, Mr. Carruthers could, of course, set about caring ficr disease without any fear of oufr raging grofe^donal etiquette. !.•/'

CHAPTER XH. AHORSE! AHOROl

It must not bo supposed that no mention of any friencft or acquaintances of Mi«a Clauson's implies that she led an isolated life at Hazlewood House. She had, indeed, plefity of both. It could hardly be otherwise, as the Talberts were very great on the subject of the interchange of social civilities, and kept a visiting book as carefully as any lady could have done. One of Miss Clauson's friends came several times across Frank Carruthers' path about this period.

This friend, or acquaintance, was a fine, hulking young fellow of about twenty, the hair to, and hope of, one of the families of position. A great, good-natured, broadshouldered boy, who would doubtless in a year or two develops into something that a mother might be proud of, and a young lady feel happy to havs for a suitor. He was an Oxford undergraduate, and for awhile had been one of Frank's pupils. So whan be came up te Hazlewood House one morning, of course to see the Talberts, he was much surprised at finding tho celebrated Oxford coach

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iTtftf TERftlj HAUTE "WEEKLY GAZETTE.

fitting' an ms ease justinr# an ordinary unlearned Philbtino. He hung about the place until L'cxtrice appeared, and, after" a Yrhilo,

Frank heard mm ask her when be might call end go riding with her. •J Although Mr. Carruthers, when inquiring into Miss Clauson's likes and dislikes, had ascertained that The was fond of riding, he had not as yet seen her on horseback. Perhaps the sharpest siiaft in Love's quiver was kopt to ,le shot the last.

The Talberts were not great at horseflesh. In tho first place, they loathed a horsey and although, as part of a gentleman's education, they had learned to ride well, thoy pro fprred in their, maturer years the carriage scat to the saddle. They had a pair of wcdlBjatcbed carriage horsos, and rocenMy a. hcrae had been bought for Beatrice. After it was purchased she did not, however, make much use of it. She could not ride out unattended, and when a groom went with her it necessitated his using one of tho carriage horses. So she only rode when her uncles were not going to use the carriage, or when soino chance escort like young Pur ton offered himself.

At present her horse was in the hands of tho veterinary surgeon, so there was no chance of yeung Purton's being gratified. Nevertheless, the account of the animal's progress toward recovery was good, and Miss Clauson hoped it would be returned to her very soon.

After this Interview Mr. Purton used to ride up to Hazlewood House every morning, to learn'if Miss Clauson's horse had come back. He wasvery anxious to hire or borrow anothor one for her use, but his offer WM firmly declined. Perhaps, after all, Beatrice only cared for riding In a comparative way.

Frank Carruthers, when be met the young fellow, dressed in the most natty and approved equestrian costume, used to laugh and jest with him, and ask for the latest bulletins anont the convalescing steed. He knew that young Purton had once or twice ridden into Blacktown to see what progress the invalid was malting.

For his own amusement Frank would address humorous questions, clothed, for the benefit or distress of his late pupil, in elegant Latin and Greek, until young Purton fled incontinently, or boldly assorted that he ought not to be tormented before his time.

But ono morning, to his inexpressible delight, he-found the horse reinstalled in the tfaslewood stables and, moreover, Miss Clauson willing to don her riding gear and allow her cavalier to take her for a twenty-mile ride.

Frank had the pleasure of seeing thetwc ride away ia company^ young Purton feeling and showing how immensely superior a being a good horseman, intrusted with the care of fair lady, is to the best Oxford coach whe could lot Greek and Latin "rim out of hii mouth like water, by Jovei"

Miss Clauson's appearance on horseback need not be described but Mr. Carruthers. after watching her supple, graceful, but alas I vanishing figure, buried his hands it his pockets and walked about the garden ins seeminglv reflective mood. Then for awhile he went back to his favorite holiday occupy tion of lying on the lawn and doing nothing.

Horace and Herbert by this time had finished their housekeeping, or china dusting, or whatever kept them iadoofa. They joined him, and laughed at his kudnfess. He tilted back his hat and looked up at them sleepily. "I say, Horace, where can I buy a horser "A horse 1" "YSB. I had quite forgotten it, but my doctor insisted that as eoon as I got better 1 should toko hone exercise." "I didn't know you could ride." "Yes, I can. Something, of course, very quiet. Oh, yes, I can ride until I fall off. The worst is that whenever I fall from anything, whether a horse or a ladder, I come on my head as certainly as a shuttlecock does." "Take one of the carriage horses," said Herbert. "We can use the dogcart," added Horace. "Not a bit of it. You wouldn't look well in a dogcart. It's not a dignified conveyance enough. No. I will buy me a horse, and sell him when I leave you. I will not trust mraoU to a hireling. 'The hireling'—what is it the hireling doosf "Forsakes the flock," said Herbei "The sheep," said Horace, correctmgly. "Yes, to be sure. 1 am neither a shoep not a flock, but fear the hireling would treat me badly. So tell me where to go for a horse." "It seems great extravagance, Frank." "Extravagance! What is extravagance! Spending more than one can afford. 1 am rolling in money. I am disgustingly rich. 1 fear not to meet either my bootmaker or mj banker. Besides, in justice to my doctor, 1 must have his prescriptions mado up, no matter what they cost."

They saw he was in earnest, so called theii cmnhnnui to assist in the search for a steed. The coachman, in his striped linen waistcoat, joined the group and Waited his masters commands. "William," said Horace, "Mr. Carruthen is thinking of buying a horse. Do you know of anything for sale round about here?" "Do I know of a hoes, sir," said William, reflectively. "Something quiet," put in Herbert, WIK was solioitous for Frank's safety. "A hoes—something quiet—" repeated Wil liam. ''To drive or ride, sir?" he added, turuing to Frank. I "To ride."

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"A hoss—quiet—to ride. There's Mr. Bul ger's cob, sir. His man said he were for sale.' Frank did not like the sound of Mr. Bulger's cob. Herbert.and Horace thought it was just the thing, "Well up to your"weight, sir, "after Mr, Bulger," said William. "Such a shoulder, such quarters, such a barrel he've got, hi have!" "Who—Mr. Bulgorf' "No, sir—the cob." V-

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"Ah, yes—the cob. But there are barrels and barrels. I want one with an ordinarj capacity—I shouldn't care for tho great tui of Heidelberg." •. "Certainly not said William, touch ing his forelock. "Cobs' backs are so broad," continued Frank, musingly, "it seems contemptible bestride them. The temptation to chalk one'i feat and ride standing would be irresistible Would you find it so, Horace?' "Well—no. I don't think I should, an swered Horace, with that polite gravity whicl always amuse4 his cousin. ••Mr. Bulger wont do, William," said Frank. "Try elsewhere."

William scratched his nose, and for a miuate w&s in earnest thought. 'There's Captain Taylor's mare," be said, frith a timid glance at his masters. "Sheas ran off with the stanhope and smashed it. But they say she goee quiet enough with a toddlo on her back—leastwise if a man knows how to ride. "We won't deprive Captain Taylor of his treasure," said Frank. "Think again." "Will you go to Barker's repository, sirf* iiskod William, who had come to an end of his equine researches. ,, "Where is itf1 "In Blacktown," said Herbert. "We will

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"fro, thaak you. 1 win make my own unbiassed choice. No one shall be blamed if I come to crisf—except my doctor. Is Larkor an honest man?" "Ho is supposed to be so," said Horace. "He's, as honest aa hoss-dealera is made," said William. "Then I'll trust my neck in Barker's hands. IH walk into Blacktown at once."

He went indoors and put himself into towngoing trim. The brothers saw him depart with some misgivings, but as ha once more declined the offer of their assistance, politeness would not let'them press it

At the lodge* gate ha found William waiting for him. "If I may make so bold, sir, you say to Mr. Barker that I sent ycu to him —William Gileo, sir, Mr. Talbert's man. Barker ain't so bad as some, sir and when he knows I shall have something to do with the hoss, may be ho won't try and best you." "Thank you, William, for your disinterested kindness," said Frank, gravely. "Don't mention it, sir," said William, with politeness perhaps caught from his masten. "William Giles, Mr.. Talbert's man—you'll remember, sirf'

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"Certainly, William. 'Is there anything else I ought to say to Mr. Barker?" •'No, sir, not as I know of."' "Shall I tell him you deserve' five or tea per cent, on the transaction f1

William's face was a study. He looked at Frank in a startled way, then glanced guiltily round to see that his masters were out of earshot. Then he looked at Frank again, and, catching the humorous twinkle in his eye, chuckled convulsively. "Oh, Mr. Carruthers, you know the Inside of tho ropes, you da If you ride as well as you reckon up you might 'u bought Captain Taylor's mare. Don't think Barker will take you in'much, sir." "Perhaps not but I'd better m«lM sura Fetch me a nice clean straw, William." William obeyed without comment. His respect for Mr. Carruthers had greatly increased. Frank took the straw, and breaking off a piece with the empty ear attached, stuck it between his teeth. 'Js that, the right length, William?" he asked. "Bit too long, sir but you'll have chewed him down proper by the time you get tft Barker's." "All right." Frank passed out through the gate and left William opining that he "was the rummest gent as ever came to the house one never knew if he wa| in etfrnost or ohaff-ing-Hke."

Frank soon got lid of the straw which he had mounted for William's mystification, and reached the repository without any signs of hondness about him. He had an interview with the tight legged proprietor, and for tho next hour stood watching horses white, horses black, horsos piebald, horses brown, bay end chestnut, trotted up and down the long tan-covered way. He heard Mr. Barker eulogise each particular animal.

He heard Mr. Barker eulogize each particular animal. He nstenca becauso h-) iked to study char actor—human, not equine—and was fascinated by a desire to know what Barker would find to 6ay when each fresh screw appa&red on tho scene. But his silence as to his own opinion concerning tho merits or demerits of each animal, and the calm contemplative way in jrhich, smoking his cigarette the while, he watched the horaos pass and repass drove Mr. Barker almost to distraction. That worthy didn't know whether he had to deal with a flat or with a wiser man than himself. All business men are aware that this placet one at a terrible disadvantage in a negotiation. It is adnoying to find you have treated a clever man like a fool but doubly so to find you have treated fool like a elevei man. That is one of the risks of business.

Mr. Barker was the more uncertain becaust he tried Frank both ways. On each of the first fifteen horses he showed him he placed ridiculously high prico—then resolving that his customer was a knowing one, he veered round and asked a very low figure forth nextsoore of animals paraded. YctFranl made no sign,- and Barker was quite puzzled He even grew suspicious and glanced at Frank's legs, thinking it just possible thai their owner was a horse-dealer from anothei town, who had come dressed like a swell, t* try and take in the redoubtable Barkor himself. But Mr. Carruthers' -lower limbs were as straight and well-formed as if he had nevei in his life-time crossed a horse. 60 Barkei was beaten, and breathed his equivalent to a as the last of his five-and-thirty screws was led back without having drawn a word of condemnation or commendation from hii visitor* "Well, you're a hard one to please, sir/ he said grimly, "I wanted to see some horses," said Franli listlessly—flipping the ash from hi* cigarette. "Oh!" said Barker, with a deep-drawn breath. "You—wanted to—see—somj bosses, did you?" It was only in moments of great excitement that Mr. Barker forgot him sell enough to call his wares "hosses." Ho was a well-to-do man with daughters who played tho piano. He knew that the proper pronunciation of the word raised him above the level of grooms and stable boys. He had acquired it with great difficulty, so ita retention was precious, "Yes, I did," said Frank, pleasantly "but nevermind. Sorry to have givon you so much trouble. May I give your boy half a crown?" "Now," said Barker, cocking his heed on one side and speaking in a confidential whisper, "without saying a word alxrnt the horses I have shown you, tell me what's your idea of a horse—his value, I mean." ••I'm not particular." "Oh, you're not particular. Jim, bring Wit the chestnut." "No," said Frank, "never tnind. I don't rant to see him. I want you to choose a lorsa for me."

No doubt horso dealers areas honest as rtfcer dealers-, but Mr. Barker's astonishment ras indescribable. It might have been that if a convicted fprger given A blank check

wd as&ed to tase

care 01

it, or mac oz

•eolf to whom a sheep brought its lamb tnd begged that it might be looked after for while, or that of a cat asked to stand sen-* tinel over the cream.

Yet he was equal to the occasion. "Want me to chooje a horse? Can't do better, sir. Whenever the duke or the marquis wants a horse in a hurry they write to me to send them one. S'poee if lean suit the duke I can suit you." "I don't know.

I'm

fidgety. Ton can

try." Still Barker could not feel certain whether he was dealing with a sharp man or a tool. "There's the chestnut 1 spoke of. He's the very thing for you." "How muchf' said IVank laconically. "One hundred and twenty guineas," said Mr. Barker with that emphasis on the last word which says that the vendor ia proof against the same number of pounds. "Look here," said Frank, sharply, "you find me a horse for six weeks. I don't care if it's black, brown, or blue. Namo the lowest price you mean to take, and if the price suits me and I buy it and don't find any particular vices I'll give yon twenty per cent, more, and the horse to resell for me at the end of that time. Now then, Is it the chestnut?"

Barker made along patwe then, with an assumption of candor, said: "No, sir, after that it isn't the ebestnut. You come here I'll show you what it is."

Mr. Carruthers nerer told any one the exact price his hone oost him, so we will not force ouxfeelves into his seoreta He left the repository, having settled that if a veterinary surgeon's certificate could accompany the dark bay horse just shown him it might be sent to Hazlewood House that afternoon. Then he bade Mr. Barker good-day and strolled back to Oakbury.

Just before he reached Hazlewood House he was overtaken by Beatrice and her cavalier. They reined up and spoke a few words. Young Purton was ia high good humor, and delightfully condescending. "Pity you dont ride, Mr. Carruthers," he said. "It is a pity. Will you ooach mef Revenge is sweet, you know." "I'll bring my father's old horse round somo morning and give you a lesson. I dare say you would soon pick it up." "You were always a kind-hearted boy/ said Frank gratefully. "Miss Clauson, ac you think I could learn to ridef* "You are too lazy, 1 fear." "Yes I suspect I am. I won't trouble you, Purton. Goed-by."

The horses trotted on, and Frank sauntered back to Hazlewood House ""»H"g placidly. In tjie afternoon, to Miss Clauson'ssupreme astonishment, the new purchase arrived. She and Prank wero in the garden at the Tho bay was placed in Mr. Giles'charge, and that personage, after inspecting it, rejoiced for two reasons: the first, that Mr. Barkei had not "bested" Jfrank: tho second, that even if Frank had "bested" Mr. Barker, the horsd must have oost a pot of money, and al whatever figure his, William's, introduction might Jie assessed, the backsheesh must be worth having. 'I thought you didn't care for riding," said Beatrice. "I don't—much." '-u

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'Then why buy such a horse?' "Because I should like to ride with you." He gave her one of .his quick glancea Beatrice turned away, ashamed to feel that she was blushing. She was very oold and reserved during the evening, yet the audacious young man chose to take it for granted that die would accept him for her cavalier vice Purton superseded.

Horace having duly admired the horse and shaken his head at tho palpable extrava? gance, made a series of elaborate rule-of-three calculations, and.determined,if three horses ate a certain quantity of certain things in a certain time, how a fourth horse would affect the quantity, the things and the time.

Young Purton was too shy to offer hii escort on the next morning—he feared lest he might wear out his welcome. So his ride was a solitary one. Judge his utter disgust when, quietly trotting alsng, he encountered Miss Clauson and Mr. Carruthers, the latter mounted on a steed the like to which Mr, Purton had for years longed to own, and, moreover, riding as if he knew all about it.

This sight was very bad for young Purton. Had he been poetical he might have compared himself to the eagle struck down by its own quilL As it was, he muttered, "A jolly sell, by Jove!" 6nd after the unavoidable greetings and Mr. Carruthers' inevitable bit of badinage, rode home in a disconsolate state. [T0 b» OontiMU&l '.

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iMionUji Mixlui of High Oaltorati [Boston 'Courier.1 RECOGNIZES A FRIEND.

And now the watermelon gresn In market stalls attracts the eye The doctor with a smiling mien

Regards it as he passes by.

rax HAN WHO COMPLAINS Of THE WIATHXm. Again the sun's fierce heat amazes, And makes him swarthy as a Creole

He used to grumble, "Cold aa blazes 1" And now he says "'Tis hot as shaoll"

THB VACATION 8EASOI9.

(Tow to the beach or mountains, there te revel In summer joys, his vigor to restore, The weary pastor takes his way. The devil

Keeps at his business juit as before.

HE CATCHES IT.

The small boy lx-uudiag o'er tho lea, With cap in hand and shouts of glee,

Ho catches it then to the pool lio spee-is, his burning hand to cool, And wishes he had gone to school.

THE MERRY HAIDJCW.

The sealskin sacque, that erst with pride she wore, Is now in camphor safely laid away, And from the sultry city to the shore

With pleasure hastes the maiden fair and gay, In limn, la wn, or muslin, or pique, And ribbons at her throat, a vision fair,

Along the yellow sands where wavelets play She passes slowly, with a pensive air.

Creating havoc 'mong the hearts of mashera there.

A Farmer Boy's Fourth of July. [Stuff aud Nonsense, Chas. Scribner's Sons.]'

Said this boy I propose to arouse S Thoje picturesque, pasturing cows Ah! won't they look fine,

As these rockets of mine, Career through the spot where they browse.

•"V'Jacafc

Just then came the farmer so sly, Who happened perchance to pass by— With his pitohfork he stamped "Hie boy who decamped, To remember that Fourth of July,

A DRUgeroa* Combination* V, [Life.]

SWEET LITTLE GIUL—A SOUR GREEK FEAR.

THE COMBINATION.

(JMtrrt

Fern.

IHarper's

Bazar.]

Doctor—I'm 'fraid, l&issus Brown, da' dish yer is a case ob do gsstrick febah. Mrs. Brown—VVa'al, I doan see how ketched de gastrick febah roun' hM^ k*we doan? burn nufiin but tajriaene, an* powerful little or dat. ..

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