Lucknow Sentinel, 1890-04-25, Page 2a.i�4N.'l �.. ri s a:.ti:ww i �a.K:f..•:++ .Y"1:t.:. u -+u •1.41,1'
44 Tile Lttle Mwa1IIn the TinidioP,"
-t -When I was a 1iWck boy, long ago.
-itAnd spoke, of the theatrepa
- The first fine that T went toseo,
Mother's brother it was took me; , •
(My uncle, of course; though he seemed to be
Only a boy -I to hie sol.
And --ab, how. ple t ho igadeit
And the things h knew that I should know -
The stage, the " drpp." and the fresooed wall ;
The sudden hash of the lights; and oh,
The orchestra, with t mel
wi its tidy.
...c�?''rias^if}!'nN�,_'i,.t,*_ev.Ty%.•r ...'�''."�..T.?II,:?i2,'..s., ;-�;,.,�:,a'mrc„
Of" Little Mania the
. Tinehop:" , ?
I+'ue rciirclei showed' itis "The louder '• tnere
With his pale, bleak 'forehead and long black
hair;
Showed me the "Second," and "'Cello," and.
�And> B -Flat," pouting an,dNpoffing his face
At the little end of the horn he blew
8llver bubbl@s an$°mueie through;
'-d ho a u€a} ane.names ief them each id turn, .-.
Clean on down to the last and best,
The lively little man, never at rept,
Who hidee away at the end of the string,
c
That's "The Little Man in the
Tinehop."
Raking a arum like a rattle of hail •
Clinking a cymbal or castanet:
°Chiping a twitter or sending a wail
Through a piccolo that thrills me yet;
Heeling ripples of riotous belle,
,And tipsy tingles of triangles -
Wrangled and tangled IDBkeine ofsound
" Till it seem al that my very eoul went round,
i:I leaned,.in a breathless joy, towards' my
Radiant upole, snapped his eye
And said, with tris courtliest wave of his hand:
Why, that little master of all the band
Is • The Little Ian in the
Tinshop.'"
r
"And Ivo heard Verdi, the Wonderful,
And Paganini, and Ole Bull,
Mozart, Handel and Mendelssobn,
- And fair Parepa, whose°matehlosa tone
Carl, her master, with magic bow,
Blent with the angels, and held her so
Y'rauced till the rapturous Iniinite-
And I've heard arias, faint and low.
From many an operatic light
Glimmering on my swimming eight
`,Dimmer and dimmer, until, at last,
I still sit, holding my roses fast
For " The Little Man in the
Tinshop."
Ohl my Little Man, joy to you -
And yours -and -.theirs -your lifetime through
Though I've heard melodies, boy and man,
,Binee,first the show" of my lite began.
Never yet -have -i iiotoned to "
Sadder, madder or gladder glees
Than your inharmonied harmonies,
For you/fele the music that appeals
To all the fervor boy's heart feels-
Allhie glories, IDs wildest cheers,
His bravest hopes, and his brightest tears;
And eo with his first banquet he•, kneels
To "The Little Man in the
Tinshop."
James 1Vhiteomb Riley.
,l,:,Y.Jt..,...MtJS""C.-s..:'JL•'.:—^4.:S na"'..kN""ttt: i.:,—.,_--._i=-+a ti ---... — :
D B . T I
Jlil-'DEO.a:
A, a t3TORY ,OF TWOIIPTaIE .
CHAPTER IX.
Thejourney was a sad' one. Now that
theartin e
had really 1
come E
r II
P g y ape a tie
resolvewasgripe immovable, felt s if
Were leaving hie heart in Paris. Then, too,
all ;hale 1 2teyw-pailaangera were bad mud
desponding, and the murder of Clement
Thomas formed the staple of conversation,
which did_ nom-.. tend I _.raises G.aspard's
spirits.
Every one seemed relieved when they
arrived at Calais;, the bustle at the station,
the hurried search for luggage, and going
on board the steamer, all served to• divert
their thoughts. It was not till they had
fairly started, that Esperanoe realized that
they had actually left France, and then e
strange, dreary feeling of homelessness
'crept over her, and she gazed at the reced-
ing shore through a mist of tears. But in
a minute or two Gaspard, glancing down,
saw her trouble, pat his arm rou id her
proteotingly, and whispered, " C .arage,
dean 1 we are doing what our father wished.
I -do not doubt fora moment that it is best.
Yon will try to bear it ? "
And Eeperanoe, looking up with eves fall
of love and trust, bald, " I will bear any-
thing --everything, with yon "-nnoon-
eoiouely repeating the worde with whioh
oho held an'svered-_ ham,.•felth_en. when,.they.
u.
Were leaving the ohatea"
The landing at Dover was inexpressibly
dreary. It was dark, and cold, and windy.
All the Frenoh passengers were in a fever
of good-tempered anxiety about their lug-
gage, and the few English passengers made
matters worse by their cool oolleotedneee,
and seemed persistently to stand in every
one's way.
Esperanoe wall hurried along, she knew
sot Whither -nor oared, 'o long se she had
hold of Gaspard s arm -and eventually
found herself -safely in a=reilwsy-oarriage
being scanned from head to foot by sundry
pairs of English eyes. She, herself, took a
rapid , survey of her fellow -travelers,
wondered why they were so quiet ; hoped
that in the coarse of their staring they
would, notice Gaspard's honorable soar,
and, after an animated dieoneeion with her
brother se to the oom arative merits o
reno ' an ng is railway a000mo ation,
settled „herself comfortably and went to'
Bleep, her -heading resting on Geepard's
ehonlder.
She awoke just before they reached
Viotoria Station, feeling dreadfully tired
and hungry. The English travelers had by
this time thawed a little, and two or three
of the gentlemen were talking together.
Esperanoe decided that English was
certainly the harshest and most wearisome
of languages.
Then Dame the araival it the station, the
crowded platform, the pushing and strug-
gling toward the luggage van, finally a civil
porter, ;a epringlesscab, a drive to the
Qhea�eet hotel in the neighborliho 4, dee-
pairing attempts at English speaking, and
a night's rest. ,
Esperanoe awoke the next morning mnoh
refreshed, and ready to enjoy the senee, of
novelty and adventure. Fortunately, the
day vise fine, and their first impreeeions of
London was favorable. The morning was
an enjoyable one. They wandered about
in Hyde Park, walked along the . Thames
Embankment, and visited Westminster
Abbey. It was not till the afternoon that
Gaspard turned his thoughts to the
necessary search for oheap lodgings, and
began to make inquiries as to Abe moot
inexpensive•quarter of London.
He was recommended to try Pentonville
-or Islington; 8srri'i-Hkeavi"ug-Eeperance -to
rest M the hotel,. he went out to try his
fortune. It was certainly lodging -hunting
under difficulties;for his English wee sadly
deficient, and though between each failare
he studied a book of dialogues in which one
page was devoted to " the hire of apart.
menta," he was sure to be utterly puzzled
by some ill -pronounced word or unknown
idiom. "-Sixpence hexira for kitchen fire,"
rapidly spoken, was quite unintelligible to
him, and even the different coinage was
bewildering. -
The afternoon was olosingin, and still he
had met with no suitable rooms ; he began
to think that Esperanoe would be alarmed
at hie long absence, when his ,eye naught an
sdvertieement of " Furnished Apartments "
in the window of - a baker's shop, He
entered without much hope of success. The
shop was small but clean. A stout, good-
tempered woman stood beeind the counter,
and -perohed in front of her, between the
!rash loaves of bread and the softies, was a
large, sleek, tabby oat, which stared at
Gaspard in a patronizing way with We,
great green eyes.
He me'de his " dialogue"book" inquiry,
and was relieved to find thatthe woman
epoke distinctly.
" Sitting -room and two bedrooms, sir ?:
Yes ; I think we could supply you ; step
this way and see them, if you pluses. Come,
Bismarck ! "
Gaspard started ; then as a spring from
the counter and a loud parr followed, he,
laughed, and asked ",That ie your oat? "
"'Yee, sir, 'tie a queer name, to be sure,
but my husband is a rare politicians, he is,
and so he went for to call the cat Bismark,
after one of them Germane."
" It is well -named. I observe already a
likeness," said Gaspard, smiling.
By this time they hied reaobed the second
floor, and the landlady, lighted the gas,
began to do the honors of her apartments,
while Bismarck stalked abont ih a,dignified
way, purring and robbing himself againet
Gaspard's lege. The terms) were moderate,
the landlady looked honest and kind, Esper-
anoe Would be delighted with the oat, and
though the rooms were small and ill -
furnished, they seemed to be clean; on the
Whole, Gaspard was pleased, and after due
consideration, be decided to take them.
Esperanoe was delighted to hear of hie
enemies, and eager to settle in it at onoe.
The landlady had promised to have every-
thing he readiness for thorn that evening, eb
after dinner they drove from the hotel to
their new home, Esperanoe in high spirits,
Gaspard a little depressed. Involuntarily
his thoughts had turned to the old chateau
at Mabillon, and, perhaps, as he watched
Esperanto passing in between the bread
baskets, the counter, and the loaves.
She, herself, was quite nnconoered--euoh
things did not hurt her pride ; ' the roome
were quiet and comfortable -for the rest
ehe did not Dare. She did not attempt to
nnpr lit that evening,but-difie od -•all her
The Spirit Rosebud.
Baby is dead -speak low, step light ; ,
How tranquil is her rest!
Ber tiny halide were placed last night
Upon her waxen breast.
.And when the morn broke cairn and bright,
And deep was our despair, -
We gaied-upon her face so white,
And stti'w a sweet smile there.
The mourning mother sobbed aloud
As she her darling scanned;
And while each head in sorrow bowed,
She fixed within its hand
A tiny rosebud, fresh and sweet
Which round its perfume shed.
"This, this," ehe moaned. "is emblem meet
For my dear, precious dead!"
Next day, while sorrowing neighbors stood
---Haidistg-sweet-Soweraof-spring, -
The tiny rosebud red as blood,
Showed signs of opening,
,And ere the funeral rites were through,
Each mourner in the room
Thrilled with astonishment to view
The bud buret in full bloom.
The clergyman, with trembling voice
And deep emotion, said :
"Rejoice my sorrowing friends, rejoice
r- 1
, The baby is not dead!
-God, in his loving tenderness,
d Thie token sweet has given,'
'That she who budded in distress
Is blooming now in heaven!"
-New York Weekly.
Bachelor and Benedict. -
Once I was a bachelor
Full of airs and graces,
- acanning-with my ciuizzing-glass
e; All the pretty faces.
'Thinking all the glances cast -
Out from silken lashes,
Glances soft, and sweet, and shy,
Due to my moustaohee.
Tripping daintily along.,
In my patent leathers,
Walking daily down Broadway
In all sorts of weathers.
Now I ani a Benedict,
Cutting no more dashes
Money goes for dresses rich,
Vehvet'oloaks and sashes -
Goes for counterpanes and quilts;.
Kettles, pots and ladles,
Crockery -ware and cooking -stoves,
Rocking -chairs and cradles.
No more midnight suppers now,
No more gay carousal ;
Latch -key hung up on a nail
Since }ny late espousal.
The Beilton Minister's Bad Break.
The minister's brow was sad,
The minister's heart was. sore,
The girls of his church were mad,
The young widows even more.
Because he'd chosen to wed,
yfn some distant town out West,
A maiden not Boston bred-
'Twas very bad taste at best.
And his friends fell off apace,
For no woman can abide i
That minister'e.tall from grebe
Who marries a stranger bride.
But he squared things with them all,
And wasn't disturbed a flg,
BytaWestern pall
asary woa9big.
W111 the Queen Abdicate ?
t: The Journal publishes the following
Under London date : It is now said on the
`highest offioial authority, as well as being a
matter of common gossip in• Parliament
and at the clubs, 'that the Queen is seri-
newly considering the step of ebdioatieg the
Britieh throne. The repent reoeption of
the Prince of Wales by the Germ n Em-
peror has had a g;eat effect on the aged
Queen, who is now convinced that her son
ought td have a chance to play the leading
role in Englandeluriiig the rest other life,
which is certain to be short The Queen's
bodily infirmity is inpreusing and shQ ie eo
rapidly running to flesh that massage is
necessary to assist her breathing. One
:strong objection the Qtioen has to abdicat-
ing. is the contingency of being, oalled
e$x-Nueen. She wishes to assume the title
of (Qneett Reagent for "the rest of her life.
A special bill will`be introduced into Par-
liament when she is willing to resign the
actual throne, and the Prince of Wales will
be crowned King of England and Emperor
of India.
No Change.
Prohibitionist (oonolnding a lengthy die.
•eertat'ion on the problem of,the age) --And
what ie your solution, sir?
__._ : Rontnnki�n1?Vhiskoy-etraightr :->
-{v.'•�ii. NIf :9F.-•.'[..�'�M.I.i'-.Y. ,�•.- - v_]..,_.., 1-� SIC - Ry S.
ene'gime to cheering Gaspard, Until gradu-
ally hisbrew-oleared,-a4d under; the com-
bined influence of a fie, some well -made
coffee, and Esperencs's merry chatter, he
began to think that, after all, life in Pent •
onville might be very pleasant.
The next day he lost no time in searching
for. work. He was not' very hopeful, it is
true, but he had made up hie mind to do
w
unturned. Bat day after day he returned
disappointed and weary, unable to meet
eexth flny. eroplormont.
His entity knowledge of English was a
great hinderanoe, and finding this out, he
got to work really to study the langn�e.
Esperance, too, 'pent some of her long
hours in the same way, and by the end of
April was able, with the help of the
dictionary,• to- read- most-„et-.--the--English
with which the landlady could ))apply her.
These were not of the most interesting
kind, '' Fox'e Book of-ldartyre,” " The
Pilgrim's Progress," " The Fairchild
Family," and, a flew dilapidated numbers of
the " Youths' Magazine," being Among the
most lively. . Still they kept her employed,
and the very quaintness of the old-
fashioned sayings and doings, was amusing.
But a sad time was doming,' for as the
weeks passed by, and still Gaspard could
find no work, their small store of money
was gradually melting away. Gaspard
grew seriously uneasy at the prolonged
silence of the Lemerciers ; he was expect-
ing a dividend to be forwarded to him, but
although he- had written to ask the reason
of the delay, no answer had Dome.
Ati length; offs "morriin eaily'iri Mays e
letter arrived in M. Lemercier's well-known
flouriehy handwriting. It` ran as follows :
" MY Dein DE Base. ne,--I regret ex-
ceedingly that you ehonld have been inoon-
venienoed by my tardiness in writing, but I
have been eo mach ocoupied in seeking the
welfare ofeonr country, and in lending my
feeble assistance to the establishment of
the Commune, that I am sure you will
pardon me. Regarding the dividend whioh
you should have received ere now, it gives
me much --pain _ to tell • -you---that the—
Company has entirely failed. Of coarse -in
this time of general agitation, it what we
trust expeot. I fear this will prove a
serious and deplorable loss to you at the
present ; but I trust I am wrong in fearing
that the ,ohief part of our capital was
invested init. Relieve me on that point as
soon as possible, and think well whether it
f`o'r fD'erf- o e urn o ranee,
where there is every prospeot of , a speedy
establishment of true liberty, equality and
fraternity.' Make my friendly greetings to
your sister, and believe me, -Yours, eto.,
LEMERCIER."
Gaspard turned pale as he read, and
Esperanoe, seeing that something was
wrong asked anxiously :
" Is Monsieur Lemeroier in trouble ?
What hue happened ?-tell me."
Gaspard put hie arm round her proteot-
ingly as he replied : " Monsieur Lemeroier
is well himself, oherie, but he has written
totell me some bad news. We have lost
some money, and it will leave us very poor
-terribly poor."
--Tbe`tron Cell seemed to -be never -en s.
Esperanoe did not speak, ,but a weary,
care -worn look name over her face, and
Gaspard could hear a little quivering, half -
stifled sigh. Somehow that silent endur-
ance out him to the heart. He turned
away abruptly, and leaned with his elbows
on the mantle -piece, fighting hard with his
emotion.
Esperanoe reproached herself with
selfishness then, and began to take her
usual role of comforter.
" Darling, do not be , so miserable," she
said, stroking back the overhanging hair
from his forehead. " It will not be so bad
as we think, perhaps ; you will hear of
some work, -or -something -will- happen'
before long. After all we still .have eaoh
other, and besides that, we have riot loot
everything."
" But it is impossible -utterly impossible
-that we oan live on what is left," said
Gaspard. If we lived on bread and water
it would not last ns both for a \year -and
what is to come then ? "
Esperanoe asked how mnoh they really
had left, and he named a startlingly smell
sum -so small that, with all her courage
and hopefulness, she was for a moment half
paralyzed by the. terrible realization. A
heavy sigh from Gaspard roused her. -
" It is very bad, oherie 1" she said, in as -
bright a voice as she could command; !' but
we will be very eoonomioel,nwe will eat
oatmeal, and I shall gee'to-the ?milli, my.
'elf, and I dare say the landlady will let no
have the very old bread at a reduction. We
shall fancy ourselves beak in the siege 1 "
Gaspard smiled, and for her sake tried to
speak more cheerfully ; but he knew too
well that not even the moot rigid economy
could keep them from want. -
CHAPTER X.
The long days dragged wearily on, while
gradually Esperanoe faded and drooped,
till she was the mere shadow of -
her former self. She was not strong
enough now to share in Gaspard's long
wanderings, and while he was out, trying
in vain. to find employment of any kind,
she was left alone in the dreary lodgings,
to bear, as patiently , as, she could, the
weary, aching fatigue of weakness, and the
hunger whioh was now euoh a painful
reality: It was hard, too, to be in the
midst of plenty. and yet to want, Some-
times, when the fragrant steam rose from
the bake -hoose below, the craving for food
grew almost unbearable. Nor could she
oontrol herself mnoh in her weakness, her
long crying fits became more and more
frequent ; only, when Gaspard came in,
disappointed and exhausted after his long,
fruitless expedition, she always managed to
be bright and cheerful.
He was grateful for herldve and patience,
but he could' not be deceived. The long
privations of the siege had tried her
severely, and he felt sure that sheQ could'
not bear these added hardships fo'r' any
length of time. And yet when, one even-
ing on his return, he found the room
strangely quiet, and was met with no
cheerful greeting, he was terribled startled.
Esperanoe wage stretched on the hard,
horse -hair oda, cold and motionless, while
Bismarck, with little troubled '"•mews,"
crept about uneaeily, and tried to attraot
her notice.
For one awful minute Gaspard thought
she was really dead. With a great o1 y of
despair he bent over her, touched her icy
lips, and her still nerveless hand', and'
listened in agony for the faintest sign of
breathing..
At --last: he Milt smeared • - oho •-:began -,to-
show iodioatione Of re*nrning ooneoiouB-
nese, and in e7 few -minutes -was abletolock
up with a little ,smile. lie would not let
her talk till he had made her some coffee,
and,revived by thie, she volunteered her
own explanation.
' JI wee tired. and lay down a little, and
it got very dark, and cold waves calm over
me"
rites, he sat watching her sadly, while
Biamarok nestled up to her, purring eon -
tent dly, and rubbing hie, sett: heed up and
down under her almost shadowy hand. It
was the contrast between the sleek, well-
fed oat, and her own worn -ons fragile form
whioh strati him so painfully. -K
He began to pass up and down the room,
thinking deeply, and evidently sohooling
.himselfto undertake__somethingev.ery
tasteful. Esperanoe watched him with as
much anxiety as she had strength to feel
just then ; his face was dark' with con-
flicting cmotione. She spoke at last.
" Yon are not worrying about me, Gas-
pard ? Do not walk up and down like
that, all alone; I want you to tell me what
is troubling you -what yon are thinking
about. "
He crossed the room then, and bent
down to kiss her, his resolution made.
" I- am thinking, ' oherie," he acid,
gravely, " that this state of things can
not go on any longer, or you will be ill."
Ehperanoe could not deny it, and Gas-
pard continued :
" I only see one thing to be done, and
that is about the last thing in the world I
ehonld'°wielrto-do:"T -
" You do not mean to go bank to Paris ?"
aeked Esperanoe anxiously. -
" No, indeed 1 that would be useless, and
besides, our father did not wish us to be
there. ' No, Esperanoe, I was thinking of
something far harder -we must ask our
uncle, bean Collinooei, to help us.
He paused. Ezperanoe started up with
sudden energy, her pale cheek flashing
crimson.
" Ask for help -that is to say, money ?
A DeMabillon turn into -a beggar leeIt-_is,
impoesible-you mean it, Gaspard 1"
" A week or two ago, cherie, I should
have scoffed at the very idea, as you do
now ; but when I see you gradually grow-
ing thinner and weaker, 'as you know well
you have done .lately -then, darling, Jove
conquers even pride."
Esperanoe was touched, bat not con-
vince . -
" To ask help of the very,msn who in-
sulted her father 1 It is too hard! Gas-
pard, I would rather starve than take his
money."
"But I cannot let you starve, dear,"
replied Gaspard, quietly ; " we mast hope
the dean will have the delicacynot to
relieve us by actual money. Perhaps he
may, bo able to find me some employment;
or be might offer to send you to school. At
any rate I shell write to him."
Esperance saw that he was quite deter-
mined, and attempted no more arguments.
She went earlyto bad, and then Gaspard
took paper and pen, and sat down to his
hard task. 11 was long before he was
snflioieiiiy oalm'ro write ;lila whole being
recoiled from such apainful humiliation.
idea shrank from the of being ander an
obligation to such a complete stranger.
More than once he was on the point of
giving it up altogether, but each time the
thought of Esperance oheoked him -for her
sake be must do it.
He found himself' so much fettered by hie
soanty knowledge of English, that after
due consideration he began another letter in
his own tongue; this was mnoh more- ono-
oessful, and though every stroke of the pen
was a sore effort to him, he was not
altogether dissatisfied with it on reading it
over. Esperanoe should read it the next
morning - before he tcok it to the -pest, °,end -
if she approved it should go.
What kind of a reoeption awaited it, he
wondered.
* * *
The warm summer sunshine was 'flood-
ing a sombre room in the Rilohester
Deanery, one morning toward the end of
May. - In spite of the heavily mullioned
windows and the uncompromising crimson
rep curtains, whioh did their beet toob-
struct the light, the sunbeams foroed anen-
tranoe,and played exultingly round the book-.
lined walls, and about the silvery head of
an old gentleman who was poring over an
astronomical chart outspread on the table.
He was a fine looking old man, tall and
well -made, and though his forehead was
wrinkled with age and much study, there
was a keenneses in hie deep -get gray eyes
whioh would seem to have belonged to a
much younger man. He was evidently
quite engrossed with his chart, for some
one without knocked repeatedly . at his
door before he answered.
The abstracted "Come in," had scarcely
been uttered; when the door opened with
some impatience, and a tall, commanding -
looking lady entered, with a packet of
lettersin her hand. -
"Good morning, father. I have brought
yen your letters; there are not many, you
will get through them before breakfast."
The dean looked up with a sigh..,-
" That terrible institution, the post !
it bas become a curse instead of a
blessing.: Rowland Hill little thought
what he wes about when be
introduced the penny postage.
The former Deans of Rilohester were spared
all- these tiresome applications slid begging
letters, and without any inorease of stipend
I am annoyed three times a day. It is a
great trial, Cornelia 1"
Cornelia smiled sarcastically.
" Great, indeed, my dear father; bat to-
day's burden is light -see 1 and she adroitly
spreied the letters over the chart, while
the dean sighed once more.
" Here is one from Canon Barnwell, and
one from Sir Henry Worthington, and the
report of that orphanage you were inquir-
ing about,and one in a foreign -looking hand,
which might, I think, be from the Frenoh
astronomer you correspond with."
Astronomy was Dean Collinson's great
hobby ; his eyes kindled as he took the
envelope from his daughter and.oh-e•nedit
eagerly.
" Can it lite from Mpneieur Grignon
No, but it is in Frenoh--what is the signa-
ture? Grignon never makes those
flourishes ; read me the name, Cornelia."
" Gaspard de Mabillon," read Cornelia,
with a slight elevation of her eyebrows,
but no comment.
"De ommabillon," exclaimed the dean.
frowning. " Amy's hueband, -,I
pose, What on earth does he write abo
Read me the letter, my dear ; I novel •could
'enduron-Fronchminen handevritiiag."-.._._
" This meet lie from Monsieur de Mabi1-
lona- •tion," . -gala Cornelia,glancing- dawn.
the sheet. "! Well, you shall hear it," and
with aaffiolent fluency, bat bad pronnnoia.
tion, elm read Gee ard's letter.,
The dean seemed to be struggling with
conflicting emotions; he did Lot speak
when his daughter ceased reading.
" W,e,^ll, father,�. she asked, inquiringly.
,
if arguing with himself, " bu then they
are De Mebillons. This fellow who writes
in n thorough Do MPS on ; I mad F e' �.�.r ...ax....,
told it in a moment."
" But it is a noble letter, you mast allow,
father ; so proud and yet so courteous, the
favor spoken l so nicely, though one Mai-
see
ansee it was an effort, and then that allusion
to his mother in eaoh perfect taste 1"
The dean wee deQidedlyinfluenoed by'hia
daughter's words; his brow relaxed a little
as he asked, " Then how am I to h
them rhe
thought for a minute.
" Could yon get the boy some situation
That is evidenly what h
"Diffiicult, very ; particularly at this
time," sighed the dean." Possibly Sir
Henry might help him to something, but I
could not think of troubling him now, dur-
ing the session; besides, I hate asking fam-
ine."
does this poor cousin of oure" a ar-
ently," i aid Cornelia, glancing again
through Gaspard'' letter, her rather severe
face softened by pity.
'"I would rather help the little girl in some
way," said the dean ; "she will be more
like -her •mother ; this fellow,-who•writee, is-• -
so terribly Frenoh. Yes, decidedly, the
little girl mat be relieved he speaks of
her as suffering still from the effects of the
siege." -
As the dean warmed on his subject, Cor-
nelia'' interest visibly declined.
".Yon would not ,send her to school,"
surely ?" she asked, a little, impatiently.
a No, not, to a school ; I do not approve
of a school for girls. No, we will offer her
a home here. She is my own sister's child,
and she shall_ -_be-welcome,- though, ",remem
bet, Cornelia,, I moat etrongly dieappr ved
of your aunt Amy's marriagen oat
strongly."
" And yon were quite right, as a ante
have proved," replied Cornelia, composedly.
" Her ohildren aro bearing the penalty of
her wilfulness. Shall 3oa write to- day ?"
" Yes, I suppose it mast be to -day,"
sighedt 'lea' n. hese ie era cos me a
greatdeal of trouble, and waste my time
sadly ; but I suppose it had better be writ-
tento,day. You will tell Chrietabel and
Bertha, but save me any further disouseion
upon the eubjeot."
Cornelia promised that his wishes ehonld
be attended to, and left the room ; where-
upon the dean hastily readjusted his epeo-
taoles, tossed aside the unwelcome lettere,
and was soon deeply engrossed in his
astronomioal labors.
Cornelia did not jadge it prudent to tell
,her sisters of the proposed change in their
family till the letter was written and
posted. She was not quite sure how they
would take their father's most nepremedi-
tateagen.- -WO-here-elf was not wholly
pleased with it, but she would have scorned
any attempt to turn him from his purpose,
and, with her usual stern sense of duty,
resolved to make the best of it to Chris's -
bel and Bertha. '
Chrietabel Mortlake, the dean's seoond
daughter, lied returned to her father's
house as a widow some years before.
She was, in some senses, the head of the
house, and all the aotaal houeekeeping fell
to her share ; but Cornelia, who was both
clever and strong.minded, was the real
ruler, and was fully conscious of her power.
Bertha was many years ,younger -a silent,
apsthetio girl, differing in every way from
-her aider-ei-sters.
As Cornelia had.expeoted her surprising
announcement wad not very well received.
Bertha, indeed, made little oomment on
it, simply looking " bored," • but Mre.
Mortlake wee not so easily satisfied.
'" A child to live in the house, a Frenoh
girl, too 1 What can my father be thinking
of ? It will be insufferable. She will
teach my poor little Bella to tell lies ; you
know how untruthful Frenoh people are 1 "
" I think Bella has learned that accom-
plishment already," raid Cornelis, who
was by no means blind to her niece's fail-
ings. " Besides, es to that, our cousin is
no mere child, and will not be much thrown
with Bella. She is sixteen, I believe."
" What is her name ? " aeked Bertha,
without looking up from her book.
" Her brother, speaks of her as' Esper-
anoe," said Cornelia ; " but I should think
very probably, she may have some second
name -Amy, very likely, after hermother
-and then we can call her by that'
And, pray, what room is she to ave ?
Yon know we cannot do without any of the
guest chambers." ,
Cornelia was ' posed by this praotial
difficulty ; she stood for a . mozeat • in
'thought.
' We must fit up the large attio over the
nuraeey ; there its no other room available, I
see, unless we could spare the bachelor's
room yo"
-
'" No, indeed," said Mrs. Mortlake,
deoidely"; " it is constantly needed. The
hoaseie sure to be fall in the autumn, and
I mean to ask young Maguey, the artist, to
spend a week here ; I mast have Bella's
potrait done before she loses her first teeth."
Cornelia smiled saroastioally.
" Very well ; then we mast see abut the
attic. I think that is more in your line
than in mine ; perhaps you would- a the
necessary directions." And, 'taking pp- e
Hebrew Bible, a manuscript book, and a
reed, Cornelia left the room.
Mrs. Mortlake began to braid a tea -oozy
for & bazaar (she palled it " charity work ")
while inwardly she was thinking very nn-
oharitebly of the De Mo billets, and mar.
muring that it really was very unfair that
an old man like her father should take such
ey strange whim into his heed, and ' injure
the prospects of his granfltsti!!d bynnneoes-
sary kindness to unknown relations.
(To be' Clantinnbd).
On the Fair, Rliie Sea.
" Why do oaptaine of ships carry, tele
scopes," she Belted: -
"
eked:" To .see the pleasure there ie in an
ocean voyage, I suppose," he managed to
say, and then rushed over to the.bnlwerks.
No matter how ArmTp-
su opinion orhiis-•o�r`n-.gQ
a- l unaotties him foram 'rat,
pooplas ay his new- bab ' is t; plan
t
y v -e vo ic�ll
Mf •-�
p
hair. _..: •�.,.
.4