The Exeter Advocate, 1891-7-1, Page 2Nearing to Wear,
"Nothing to wear, itse derlingnothiug et all
, to Wear"-
1.his is the Song' shoo Sing4; to him aud lills him
_ 'Mtn despair,
When hearoea out to tell ooh day aud earn
their daily bread,
$110 hatiaa aromid his weary mon until those
words are said.
And wire» he conies home late at ulght, she sits
upon the stair,
And warblee eu.t,„`' You knew, dear uharlaa,
haven't a thing* to wear.
The polonidee 1 haalaatyoiz 1 tell you it a
saght ;
ola bloeic grenadine is worn'e ; it makes me
look. a f eight ;
My black silk ie so $11inz, end a feel eu morti-
fied ;
Awl, them for tunrners I must he v e ecanothina
in white hc4de.”
And c -o sho sinher little song throughout; the
livelong day—
" nothing to wear, my darling, nothiegt o wear,
I ses.'
And Olutriee is at hie office, end 1I faee
blanched with fea r.
Because fieca*not pay for tat the Wiio. she
got last year.
TWICE MARRED.
W•
_ HEN the idea of a removal
: . • to Virginia was first mooted
in the family of General
: ' . .- Percival Smith, ex -brigadier
• ' . . . in the United State ,:ervice,
it was received Wi:th con-
: sternatian and n., perfect
' ... . storm of dieapproven The
young, ladies, Norma and Blanehe, rose
as one womau—lond in denun Jiation,
• . vehement in protest—fell upon the seheme,
. and verbelly sought to annihiliste it. The
.
country ! .A 'farm !! The South ! !.! The
. Mee, was untenable, menstrous. Before
their outraged vision floated ;:fictures
whereof the •foreground was hideous with
cows, and snakes, and booties; the miadle
distance lurid with discomfort, cols -bread,
and tri -weekly mails : the baekground
lowering with solitude, mind, and colored
.
servants. . .
Poor Mrs, Sinith wished it might
be the eed, or . anywhere near
the end; for the soul syithin her
- Was " 'vexed, with strife and broken. in
„pieces. with words." The . general. could—
. • and did -7 -escape the rhetorical consequences
. of hie einpopidanmeaSure, but his wife mild ,
- not; no 'elirb affordeda her its welcome
refuge, no . " down town." offered - her
a sanctuary. • . She was obliged to stay at
home and endure it all
.After the indelgent American custom,
she earnestly desired to please all of her
children. Iu her own thoughts she existed
only for them, to •minister to their happi-
ness ; even her 'husband was, unconsciously
to her, quite of secondary importance, his
strongest present claire to consideration
. lying in his paternity. And this preference
mint be indulged, the more partieularlythat
Warner—theelaer of her two boys, her idol
and her grief—was slowly, well-nigh im-
. perceptibly, but none the less surely, draft-
ing away from her. A boyish imprudence,
a cola, over-exertion, the old story Which is
so familiar, so hopeless, so endless in its
repetition and its pathos. When interests
were diverse, the healthy, blooming daugh-
ters could hope to make little blooming
against the invalid son. They had all the
sunny hours of many hag years before
thein ; he perhaps only the hurrying
Moments of one.
For Warner; a change was imperative—so
imperative that even the rebellious girls
were fain to admit its necessity. His con-
dition. required a ,gentlen. kindlier atmos-
phere than that of .New York. The poor
'diseased lungs .araved: the elixir of pure air;
pantedfor the invigoration of • breezes
.freshly oxygenized by field , and '
forest, s ., and ' labored exhamstediar in
. .
the langnia devitalized breath of a
city. General Smith was a man trained by
milizaey discipline to be instant in decision
and prompt in action. • As soon as the dor-
tors informed him that his son's case
required—not wander:lige—bat a steady ,.
residence in a climate bracing, as well as
inild, where the comforts Of 'home • could I
supplement, the healing of nature, he set
himself at once to discover a place which
would fill all • the requirements. To the old
soldier, New England born' and Michigan
bred, Virginia appeared a land of sun. and
flowers, a country well-nigh tropical in
the softness of its climate, and 'the fervor of
its heat. The doctors recommended
Florida, or South Carolina, As in duty
. bound, and to the suggestion of Virginia,
'. yielded only a dubious.. consent; it was very
- far north, they said, butstill it might do.
To the general, it •seerried very far smith,
and, he was :certain • it would do,
In those old eampaigaing days, the fancy
; had been boat in him that some tinie in the
future he would. -like to return: and Make his
beinehere, *here. "morons ocean wooed a ,s e
gracious land"—that when, his .fighting days d
were over, and the retired' list lengthened o
by his name, it would be a pleasant thing to T
have his final bivouac among the gallant foes f
t
war, I think, althoagh EU be banged
can, piece hiint it •
Mrs, Smith looked aitereated. " Per
has you formerly linen,' him," she reinaake
eheerfully ; "it's a pity: your memory is
bad. Why'dida't you, moire his name o
someone, that might have helped , yen to
plume Aba ' •
"My Memory is excelleut," retorted th
generel, sliortly ; for e man must roma
each an insinuation even from the wife of it
bosom.. I've elways been remarkable fo
aa unusually strong and retentive memory
as you know very well—but it isn't' Super
human, At the lowest computation,
guess I've seen about a million men's face
in the °mire° of my life, and it's ridiculou
to expect me to have ann alt sorted out, and
ticketed in my mind like a picture catalogue
My memory is very fine."
Mrs, Smith recanted pleasantly. He
liusband'e memory was good, for his age, sh
was willing to admit, but it was not flawless
About this young man, now, it seemed to
her that if she could remember him at all
she could remem.ber all about him. These
hitches in recollection were provoking. I
would have been nice for the girls to find a
young man ready to their hands, bound to
courtesy by previous acquaintance with
their father.
But all this was trifling and unimportant
in comparison with the main issue, Warner's
health. To secure the shadow of hope for
her boy, Mrs. Smith decided that any thing
short of cannibalism in her future surround-
ings would be endurable.
The information gleaued from her husband
was faithfully repeated by -Mrs. Smith to her
daughters, with some innocent exaggera-
tion and unconscious embellishment. She
always wanted to make things pleasant for
the children.
Blanche looked up from her crewel sun-
flowers with readying interest, but Norma
walked over to the window, and stood
drumming on the panes, and regarding the
passers with a lowering brow.
"I wonder what Nesbit Thorne will think
of it all?" she remarked, after an interval of
silence, giving voice to the inwardness of
her disconteut
"He'll hate UV, spoke Blanche, with
.conviction ; " abhor it, just.as we do.
..1 know he will" ,Blinche always followed
her sister's lead, and when Norma, was
cross considered it her duty to be tearful.
She we,s only disagreeable now because
.Norma was.
Percival, the youngest of the family, a
spoiled and lively lad of 12, to whom the
prospect of change was rapture, took up the
last remark indignantly.
"Nesbit won't do anything of the kind,"
quoth he. "Nesbit isn'ta spoiled. airified idiot
of a girl. He's got sense enough to appre-
ciate hunting and fishing and the things
that are of importance to men. I guess
he'll want to come to Shirley this autumn
for his shooting, instead of going down to
North Carolina." Norman stopped her
tato° and turned her head slightly ; the
boy, observing that he had scored a point,
proceeded: "Just the minute he gets back
from Montana, I'm going to tell him all
about Shirley and beg him to come. And if
he does,_I'm going gunning with him every
day, and make him teach me how to shoot
—see if I don't," regarding his mother from
under his tawny brows threateningly. Per-
cival's nature was adventurous and unruly;
he had red hair.
" Nesbitt got back last night," announced
Warner from his sofa beside the other win-
dow. "1 saw him pass the house this
morning. There he is now, coming up
the street. If his opinion is a matter of
such importance, you can call him over and
get it. I don't see that it makes any differ-
ence what he thinks myself." The latter
part of the aentbnce was muttered in an un-
heeded undertone.
Norma tapped sharply on the glass, and
beckoned to a gentleman on the opposite
pavement, her brow clearing. He nodded
gayly in response, and crossing', in obedience
o her summons, entered the house familiarly
vithout ringing the bell.
CHAPTER II.
All turned expectantly toward the door,
pausing in their several. occupations; even
Warner's eyes were raised from his book,
although his attention was involuntary
and grudging. The attitude of the little
circle attested the influence Which the
coming man wielded over every member of
it; influence which. extended insensibly
to every one with whom Nesbit Thorne's
association was intimate. He was Mrs.
Smith's nephew, and much, in the habit,
:whenever he Was in New ,York, of making
her house his 'homen--having now none of his
own. , , '
He was a slender,' dark man, with mag-
'nificent dark eyesnavhich Lied a 'power of
xpression so enthralling as to disarm, or
efy, criticism of the rest of his face. Not
ne Man in fifty "'could tell whether Nesbit
horne was handsome, or the reverse—and
or women—ah, well ! they knew best what
hey thought.
Some years previous to the opening of
this story, Nesbit Thorne then a bril-
iant recent graduate of Harvard, a
eader in society, and a man of whom
great things were predicted, whose name
was in many mouths as that of a man likely
to achieve distinction in any path of life he
should select, made a hasty, ill-advised
arriage with a Miss Ethel oss, a New
ork. belle of surpassing beauty and
cumen. A woman whose sole thought wee
leasure, whose highest conception of the
ood of life was a consta,ntly varied menu
f social excitement, and whose noblest
eaeling of the word duty was compassed in
aving well ordered house, sumptuous
itertainments, and irreproachable toilets.
wife to satisfy any man who was un -
motional, unexacting and prepared to give
ay to her in all things.
Nesbit Thorne, unfortunately, was none
these things, and so his married life had
me to mid. The first fear months were
smoothe and gilded by his passionate
enjo3rment of her mere physical _perfection,
his pleasure in the admiration she excited,
and in the envy of other men. Life's river
glided smoothly,. ' gayly in the sunshine;
then ugly snags began to appear, and reefs,
fretting the surface of the water, and hint-
ine of sterner diffieultiee 'below f then a
ng -stretch'. of tossing, troubled water„
owing more and more turbulent as it pro-
ecled, boiling and. 'bubbling into angry
hialpools and siillen•eddies. The boat of
arried happiness vaas hard 'among the
eakers, tossed from side to side, ,the sport'
every wind of passion; contesting hands
ere. on the tiller ropes. The emit yawed
a jerked in ite course, a spectacle for men
weep over, and devils to rejeice ; ran
round on quicksands, tore and tangled ins,
rdage, rent the planking,. and at, the end
a eruise of as many months as it should
ve lasted years, it lay a hopeless wreck
the grim. bar of separation. r
The affair writ' managed gracefully, and
th due deference to the amenities. There
s gossip, of course --there always is
ssip—end opiniani wae many sided.
tillers circled ,around, whielt played the
ole gamut front Artfidelity to banlaL
rut
; these livea their brief span, arid:
n gave place to other. ruiners, equallyr
foillided, and therefore equally enjoyable,
1 f b th td l'f'
;fliiir;a1 and
ateemteo ollfhichtld4 every
lte one
moireo, as a matter of pours°, was delayed,
d h..; this incitance, People avouclered a little,
O and then remembered that the T.hornes
f were a Boman CAthalie family, and eon -
chided that the young man had religious
selvage With, ,Mrs, Thorne the matter
e Was plain enough ; she heal no reason, a2s
yo,t, sufficiently strong to make her desire
is absolute release, arid far greater command
C over Thorne's income by retaining her posi-
tion as his wife.
When his domestic affairs had reached a
I crisis, Thorne had quietly disappeared for a
S year, during which time people only knew
$ that he was enjoying his recovered free-
dom in distant and little frequented places..
• There were rumors of him in Tartary; on
the Niger, in Siberia. At the expiration of
✓ the year he returned to New York, and
e resumed his old place in society as though
• nothing untowarcl had occurred. He lived
at his club, and no man or woman ever saw
, him set foot within the precincts of his
own house. Occasionally he was seen to
t stop the nurse in the park, and caress and
speak to his little son. His life was that
of a single man. In the society they both
frequented, he often. encountered his wife,
and always behaved to her with scrupulous
politeness, even with marked courtesy. if
he ever missed his home, or experienced
regret for, his matrimonial failure, he kept
the feeling hidden, and presented to the
world an unmoved front.
In default of nearer ties, he made him-
self at home in his aunt's house, frequenting
it as familiarly as he had done in the days
before his marriage. In his strong, almost
passionate nature, there was one great
weakness; the love and admiration of
women was a necessity to him. He could
no more help trying to make women love
him, than the kingfisher can help thrusting
down his beak when the bright speckled
sides of his prey flash through the water,
As he entered the room, after an absence
of weeks, with is smile and a pleasant word
of greeting, the younger members of the
circle fell upon clamorously; full of
themselves and their individual concerns.
Even Warner, in whose mind lurked a
jealousy of his cousin's influence, forgot it
for the nonce, and was as eager to talksas
the rest. Nesbit found himself listening to a
demand for advice, an appeal for sympathy,
and a pman of congratulation, before he had
made his salutations, or gotten himself
into a chair.
"Hold on!" cried, putting up his
hand in protest. "Don't all talk. at once.
I can't follow. What's the matter,
Norma?"
His eye turned to his favorite, involun-
tarily, and an almost imperceptible bright-
ening, a lifting of the clouds on that young
lady's horizon began to take place. She
answered his look, and (assisted by the
irrepressible Percival) unfolded to him the
family plans. Thorne, with good-humored
enthusiasm, threw himself into the scheme,
pronounced it delightful, and proceeded to
indulge in all manner of cheerful prognos-
tications. Percival was enchanted, and,
establishing himself close beside the arm of
his cousin's chair, commenced a series of
vehement whispers, which lasted as long as
the visit. Norma's brow cleared more and
more, and when Thorne declared his inten-
tion of paying them a long visit during the
hunting season, she allowed a smile to
wreathe her full crimson lips, and snubbed
poor little Blanche unmercifully for still
daring to be lachrymose.
CHAPTER ILL
who had won lus admiration by their daunt-
less manner of giving and taking blows.
The idea that any portion of his family
would be displeased by the realization of his I
fancy, or feel themselves aggrieved by his I
arrangements, never entered nito the veter-
an's calculations ; he returned from the
South with his purchase made, and his mind
filled with anticipations of the joy the un-
lading of his precious honey svould occasion in
in the domestic hive. and when he was met Y
by the angry buzz of discontent instead of 'a
the gentle hum of applause, his surprise WaS p
great, and. his indignation unbounded. g
"What the devil are they grumbling o
about?" he demanded of his wife. "Shir- r
leys a fine plantation, The water is geed, h
the air superb; there are excellent gardens et
and first-rate oyster beds. The }lenge is old- A
fashioned, but it's comfortable, and a little e
money will make it more so. What's the w
matter with thou ?"
"The girls are yew:1g, Percival," explained of
the mother, putting in a plea for the rebels. co
They are used to society and admiration.
They don't take interest in gardens and
oyster -beds yet; they like variety and ex-
citement. The country is very dull."
"Not at alt dull," contradicted the gen-
, eral. "You talk as if I were requiring you
511,to Selkirk on a ten acre island, instead
of going to one df the pleasantest and most
populoust , counties ni the oldest State lo
sa. in the Union... Mr. Byrd, the former gr
owner of Shirley, told me that the neigh- ce
borhood was very • thickly ' settled and w
sociable. I edunted five gentlemen's houses in
in sight myself. , Southerners, as a rrtlea are hr
great aantore, and It the girls are lonely it of
will be their own, fatilt. They'll have as w
much boating and dancing and loin -foolery an
as is good for them" . to
"Ane there any young Men ?" demanded s ag
Mrs. Smith, who recognized- the necessity •de
of an infusion, of the stronger element to of
' iseipart to social joys betty mid flavor. ha
Yes, I guess so," replied her husband, on
• indifferently, masculinity from. ever-aseocia- '
kart having palled on him " there's always
men aboat everywhere, except back ,in the
wi
wa
eme a,ges in Mame—they re scarce o
enough there, the Lord knows 1 saw t
good many about in the little village near wh
Shirley—Wintergreen, they call it. One ru
yeung fellow attaaeted my, ettentioh. pantie. the
ularly ; he wee sitting on a tehacco un
head, clown on the wharf, superititendin Th
some nevem loaa a waggon, awl 1 eoulan't sep
get it out tif my head that I'd eeen. his (ace arr
rAfore. He Was tall, and fair, ani had log it I
en arm. 1 taut have ' met 'Mtn during the '
ena,tiaeo
ont nd the re.ost luting nelusion
ived. rti regard to the matter was that
sad been managed Vaal/gnweMly
the divoree seemed, the
Backward and forward, from pantry to
sideboard, from sideboard to china closet,
flitted Pocahontas Mason. setting the table
for breakfast. Deftly.. she laid out the
pretty mats on the slaininesebtVneneeere-
ranged the old-fashioned blue cups and
saucers, and pla,ced the plates and napkins.
She sang at her work in a low, clear voice,
more sweet than powerful, and all that her
hands found to do was done rapidly and
skillfully, with firm, accustomed touches,
and an absence of jar and clatter. In the
centre of the table stood is corpulent Wedg-
wood pitcher, filled with geraniums and
roses, to which the girl's fingers wandered
lovingly from time to time, in the effort to
coax each blossom into the position in which
it would make the bravest show. On one
corner, near the waiter, stood a housewifely,
little basket of keys, through the handle of
which was thrust a fresh handkerchief newly
shaken out.
When all the arranaements about the
0 .
table had been completed, Pocahontas
turned her attention to the room, giving it
those manifold touches which, from a lady's
fingers, can make even a plain apartment,
look gracious and homelike. Times had
changed with the Masons, and many duties
s formerly delegated to -servants now fell
naturally to the daughter of the house. Per-
haps ' the change was an improvement;
Berkeley Mason, the young lady's brother,
maintained that it was.
Having finished her work, Pocahontas
crossed the room to one of the tall, old-
fashioned windows, and pushed open the
half -shut blinds letting a flood of sunshine
and morning freshness into the room. Un-
der the windows stood an ottoman covered
with drab cloth, on which the fingers of some
dead and gone Mason had embroidered a
dingy wreath of roses and pansies. Poca-
hontas knelt on it, resting her arms on the
lofty window -sill, and gazed out over
the lawn, and enjoyed the dewy
buoyance of the air. The September
sunshine touched with golden glory
the bronze abundance of her hair, which
a joyous, rollicking breeze, intoxicated
with dew and the breath of roses,
tangledo and tumbled into a myriad
witcheries of curl and crinkle. The face,
glorified by this bright aureole was pure and
handsome, patrician in every line and curve,
from the noble forehead, with its delicate
brown brows, to the well -cut chin, which
spoke eloquently Of breadth of character and
strength of will. The eyes were gray, and
in them lay the chief charm of the face, for
their outlook was as holiest and fearless as
that of a child—true eyes they were, fit
windows for a brave, true soul.
The branch of the Mason family still resi-
dent at the old homestead. of Lanarth had
dwindled 'to four living representatives—
Mrs. Mason, who had not changed her
name in espousing her Cousin. Temple Ma-
son, of Lanarth, and her son Beekeley, and
daughters Grace and Pocahontas. There
haa been another son, Tereple, the younger,
whose stor3r formed one of those sad mem-
ories which are the grim after-taste of war.
All three of the Masons had worn gray tini.
forms ; the father had been killed in a
eharge at Malvern Hill, the elder son had
lost his good right arin, and the younger had
died in ptition.
Of the two daughters, Grace had early
fulfilled her destiny in true Virginian
fashion, by martying a distant Connection,
of her family, a Mr., Royal! Garnett, who
had been a playmate 6f, her brothers, and
whose plantation layin an adjoining county.
With praiseworthy conservatism, Mts.
Garnett was duplicating the uneventful
placidity of her parents' early years, con-
tent to rule her household wieely, to love
and minister to her hueband, and to devote
her energies to the reeling of her children
aecordieg to time-honored precedent.
Poealionnu4 the youngeet of the family,
Was still unmarried, nay, more—still unen-
gaged. ,
They lied' called het " Peettliontas " in el
elaedienee to the Unwritten law of seuthern
Ile/Mlles, Which decrees thom ail ancestor's
sin of distinction Shall be visited on genera-
tions of -descendants, in the pernetuation of
a name no Matter what its hzdeonsuess, It
seems is peculiarity of distinguished persons
to possess names singularly devoid of
,beauty; therefore, 'among the Modena ew
tailed by pride upon posterity, this is is
aarievone one. Sone families, svitiv the
forest taint in their blood, at an early 'date
took refuge iu the softer, prettier 'Ma -
team " ; but not so the Masons. It was, their
pride that they never shirked an obligation,
or evaded a responsibility; they did noteyede
this one, Having accepted " Pocahontas "
as the name by which their ancestress was
best known they never swerved from it •
undaunted by its length and harshness and
unmoved by the discovery of historians that
Pocahontas is no . name at all, but simply a
pet sobriquet applicable to all Indian girls
alike, and whose signification is scarcely one
of dignity, Historians might discover,
disagree'wrangle and explain, but
Pocahontas followed Pocahontas in the
Mason familywith the undeviating certainty
of is fixed law.
Grace trampled on the protest "Not
name her Pocahontas? Why, of course I
shall 1 If the name were twice as long and
three times as ugly my baby should bear it.
1 wonder you should object when you kuow
that every Pocahontas in the family has
invariably turned out an exceptionally fine
woman. All have been noble, truthful,
honorable; quick to see the right and un-
swerving in pursuit of it. I shall call my
baby by that name, and no other."
Pocahontas opened her eyes. "Why,
Grace," she said, "you talk as if the name
were is talisman; as if virtues were trans-
mitted with it. Isn't that silly ?"
"Not at all," responded Grace promptly ;
" unless we cease to be ourselves after
death, we must still take interest in the
things of this world, in our families and de-
scendants. We may not be able actually to
transmit our virtues to them, but surely by
guardian influence we can help them imitate
ancestral good qualities, Guardian angels
of our own .blood are is great deal nearer
than outside angels, and 1 believe the dear
Lord appoints them whenever he can ; and
if so, why shealdn't the good women , who
are in heaven take interest in my baby who
willbear their name? It is their name
and it inust hurt them to see it soiled ; of
course they must take interest. Were I a,n
angel; the child on earth who bore my name
should be my special charge."
"Then, according to your showing,
Grace, six good women, now holy angels,
have baby and me in constant keeping for
love of our ugly name. The idea is fanciful,
and I don't consider it orthodox; but it's
pretty, and I like it. Miss Pocahontas the
ninth, you and I must talk with circum-
spection, not to grieve the, good ladies up
above who are kind enough to take such
interest in us."
"Yes, my dear, I used often to think of
it --long before Jim thought of it himself, I
believe, Berkeley. He spoke to Princess
this summer and she refused him. She did
not tell me about it ; but from little things
I could guess pretty accurately. It's a great
disappointment to me, for I scarcely
remember when the hope that they might
love each other first dawned on my mind.
Mary Mason and I were warni friends, as
well as cousins, and it seemed natural that
our children should marry."
Berkeley knew that his mother had wished
him to marry Belle or Susie, and that this
was not the first time that she had been
disappointed in her desire for another Byrd -
Mason match. Had Temple lived, Nina
Byrd would have been his wife; the two
had been sweethearts from babyhood...
Mrs. Mason sighed regretfully. "1 wish
she could have loved him in the way
we wish. Marriage is a terrible risk for
a girl like her. She is too straight-
forward, too uncompromisingly in-
tolerant of everyday littleness, to have a
very peaceful life. 'She has grown up so
different from other girls ; so full of ideals
and romance ; she belongs, in thought and
motives, to the last century rather than to
this, if what I hear be true. She is large -
hearted and has a great capacity for affec-
tion, but she is self-willed and she could be
hard upon occasion. If she should fall into
weak or wicked hands she would both en-
dure and iriflict untold suffering. And
there is within her, too, endless
power of generosity and self-sacrifice.
Poor child 1 with Jim I could have trusted
her ; but she couldn't love him, so there's
nothing to be done."
"Why couldn't she ?" demanded Berkely„
argumentatively. "She'll 'never do any
better ; Jim's a handsome fellow, as men go,
brave , honorable , and • sweet-tenipered.
What rnore does she want? It looks to me
like sheer- perversity."
"It isn'tperversity, Berkely," she said;
"1 hardly realize, myself, why the thing
should have seemed so impossible. I suppose,
having always regarded Jim as a kindly old
playmate, and big, brotherly friend, the
idea of associating sentiment with him
appeared absurd. Had they ever been
separated the affair might have had a differ-
ent termination ; but there has never been
a break in their intercourse—Jim has always
been here, always the same. That
won't do with a girl like Princess.
In the afternoon Pocahontas, providing
providing herself with a book and a gayly
colored fin, established herself coinforta,bly in
the oldspilt-bottom rocking -chair in the deep
shadow of the porch. She was thinking of
Jim, and feeling pitiful and sad over her old
friend who must break away from every
home association, and far from kindred and
family, among strange faces and unfamiliar
surroundings, make for himself a new life.
She was sorry for Jim—grieved for his pain
in parting, for his disappointment in regard
to herself„ for her owu inability to gave
him the love he longed for. She would have
loved him had it been in. her, power; she
honestly regretted that the calm, true,
sisterly affection she felt for him could not
be converted into something warmer. Her
friends wished it ; his friends wished
It was the natural and pro-
per thing to have happened, and yet
with her it had not happened.
Pocahontas, rising, advanced out 91
the shadow to meet them—Jim Byrd, and a
tall, broad -shouldered man with a great,
silky red beard, her brother-in-law, Mr.
Royal Garnett. ' •
Pocahontas mocked at Gtace's idea, but
it pleased her all the same, and unconsci-
ously it influenced her more than she knew,
She loved the legends of her house, delighted
iu the fact Of descent from brave men and
true women,' The past held her more than
is common with the young people of the
present cle,y, and she sought out and
treasured all the records of the six women
who had boene'her name, from the swarthy
Indian princess claim to the gentle gray.
haired lady who held the. place of honor at
the Lanarth breakfast table. '
"Princess,"said Mrs, Mason as she distei-
billed the sagar &tido/vain'Iwishyou'deing
the bell. Rachel inttst have breakfast -
ready by this ' time, and I hear Berkeley's
step outside."
Princess ring the bell quite meekly.
Aunt Pachael woe en Old family servant,
faithful, fat and important, and Aunt
Rachel hated to be hurried. She eaia " i6
' e;stered her, ate made her spile the vittleoa" y
he answered promptly this time, however, the
iteviug with the greet Waitet of hot and Th
tastydiehee before tine bell had ceased
its faint tintinnabulation. Berkeley', a tall,
fair await whose right 'sleeve Ives fastened
againgt his invest, entered also.
"I saw Jim Byrd thie morning," he re,
marked, as he geated himself, after the cue -
ternary greeting to his mother and sister.
"He eallea here ea his way over to BOY
Garnett's, where he was going to 'bid good-
bye, I asked him in to brealrfeast, lnit he
couldn't stop ;, said he had promieed Grace
to take breakfettet with them. Be has to
make a farewell tour, or eld friends' fEelings
will be hurt. It's rather awful,
and hard on Jim, but he couldn't
bear the thought Of the neighbors feeling
slighted, I suggested a barbeeue and a
stump speech and. bow, hut the idea didn't
seem to anneal to Jinn Poor old fellow 1
"Couldn't he contrive to held Shirley,
Berke ?" questioned Mrs. Mason, as she
passed his cup. "He had retained POSSOS-
SiOa so long, there must have been sozne
way to hold it altogether."
" No ; the thing was impossible," replied
Berkeley ; "the plantation was mortgaged
to the hub before Jim was born.
The Byrds have been extravagant for
generations, and a crash was inevitable.
Old Mr. Byrd could barely meet the
interest, even before the loss of Cousin
Mary's money. During the last years of
his life some of it was added to the princi-
pal, which made it harder work for Jim.
130 for Jim's management, and the fact
that the creditoes all stood like a row of
blocks in which the fall of one would inevi•
tably touch off the whole line, things would
havekone to smash long ago. Each man
was afraid to move in the matter, lest by so
doing he should invite his own creditors to
come down on him. Until lately they
haven't bothered Jim much outside of wring-
ing all the interest out of him they could
get 'While his sisters were single, he was
obliged. to keep a home together for them,
you know. Nina's marriage last spring
removed that responsibility, and I reckon
it's a relief to Jim to relinquish the strug-
gle."
"What a pity old Mr. Byrd persuaded
Mary to sell out her, bonds, and invest the
money in tobacco during the war 1" ob-
served Mrs. Mason, regretfully. "It would
have been something for the children if she
had kept the bonds. It was bad that those
great warehouses, full of tobacco, belonging
to the Byeds and Masons were burned
in Richmond at the evacuation. Charlie
Mason persuaded Mr. Byrd into that specu-
lation, and although Charlie is my own
cousin and Alary's brother, I must admit
that he did wrong. Your father always
disapproved of the sale of those bonds."
"The speculation was a good one, and
would have paid splendidly had events
arranged themselves differently • even at
the worst no one could foresee the burning
of Richmond. Cousin Mary's money
couldn't have freed Shirley, but if
things had gone well with the ven-
ture that tobacco would have • done
so, and left a handsome surplus.
Charlie Mason is a. MUM of fine judgment,
and that he failed that time was through
no fault of his. It was the fortunes of war."
Mrs. Mason sighed and dropped the
subject. She was unconvinced, and con-
tinued to feel regret that Mr. Byrd had
been allowed to work his speculative will
with his wife's little patrimony. It would
have been a serviceable nest -egg for the
children, and a help to Jim in his long
struggle.
Pocahontas helped herself to hot waffles,
and sugared them with a liberal hand.
"Dear old Jim," she said, calmly, "1
wish he had come in ; you should have in-
sisted, Berkeley. It's cruel for him to hav
to give up the old. home to strangers,
and start life in a new place. I can't
bear to think of it. • jinn's such a good fel-
low, and Meiieo seems a long way off.
When is he coming to say good -by to us,
Berke ?"
"This evening. He is coming to tea; so
mind you have something special."
After a pause, Mrs. Mason resumed the
subject with the inquiry
When
he had
heard anything relative to the purchaser of
Shirley. But Berkeley, only knew that the
place had been bought by a northern man, a
retired army officer, and that his name was
Smith.
When his sister was out of hearing,
Berkeley reopened the topic of jim Byrd.
He was standing at the mantle filling his
pipe, which he balanced dexterously against
one of the ornanients, and his back was
toward his mother as he spoke
" Mother," he questioned, "did it ever
occur to you that Jim might grow fond of
Pocalwittas--might Want her for a Wife,
in .fa.ct ? I fancy • something of the 'sort
has happened, : and ' that he came
to grief. He has been depressed and un -
'happy for months; a;na neithekbusiness nor
trouble about the old place can .accountlor
his shunning us in the way he has 'been
doing lately. I don't believe he's been
inside this house twice in the last three
months."
After a joyous exchange of greeting with
her brother-inda,w, of whom she was un-
usually fond, and a sweet, gracious welcome
to her old. play -fellow, Pocahontas with-
drew to tell her mother of their ibrrival, and
to assure herself that everything was per-
fectly arranged for Jim's last meal among
them.
Through some strange deficiency in her-
self, she was unable to give him what he
most desired, but what she could give him
she lavished royally. She wore her pret-
tiest dress M Ins honor, and adorned it with
his favorite flowers, forgetful in her eager-
ness to please him, that this might make
things harder for him. She ordered all the
dishes she knew he liked for tea, and spent
a couple of hours in the hot kitchen that
scorching morning preparing a cake that
he always praised. With eager haste
she took from its glass-aoored cabinet
the rare old Mason china, and rifled the
garden of roses to fill the quaint century old
puneh-bowl for the centre of the table. All
things possible should be done to make Jim
feel himself, that night, the honored guest,
the person of most importance in their
world. It was an heirloom—the Mason
china --quaint and curious, and most highly
prized. There was a superstition—how
originated none knew—that a breakag,e of a
tee, whether by desianr or accident, for -
de misfortune to the house of Mason.
Very carefully it was always kept,
being only used on rare occasions when
special honor was intended. Duritigthe
civil war it had kill securely hi
idden n a
heavy box under the brick paVernent of one
of the cellar rooms, thereby escaping dire
viciseittides. Many pieces had been broken,
said to have been followed in every case by
calamities harder to endure than the loss of
precious poreelain, but, much ef it still re-
maieed. In design it was unique, in exeen-
tion vvonderful, anci iM history was roman-
tic, In the olden time a 'rich and fanciful
Mason had visited the colonies with one of
the expeditions sent out by the Virginia
Company �f London. Ile was an artist
of no mean repute, and daring
his stay in the nevv world had made sketches
of the strange beautiful scenery, and studies •
from the wild picturesque life which capti-
vated his imagination,
After his return to England, he perfettecl
these dranings from memory, and some
s r c osse over 'lance, and had
in transferred to china at fabulous cost.
e result was sTra- beautiful, for each
piece, slowed Mall Wtwands*, pertranak
of life and, scenery in the itew world. The
scenes were varied, and detaieted in soft,
glowing eolers, and with a Onish that made
each is gem. ,
On
pito cup a hunter followed the chase,
through the silent foreSt ; another showed ts
(Welty maiden dreaming beside a waterfal4
a third, is group 1 deer resting in a sunny
valley; is fourth, a eirele of braves arouncla,
council fire. ,
When, 'in after years, the grimdson of the
Artist had married a bride with Indian
blood in her veins, the punch -bowl had been
added as it special eompliment to the lady,
and the china, hadbeen sent a wedding, gift
froin the Masons; Of England to the Mariona
of Virginia. The bond was very graceful',
and contained on one side a lovely
representation of the landing at Jamestown",
with the tranquil, smiling river, the vessel.
itt the offing, and the group of iriendly red.
men on the shore ; on the other was, of
course, depicted the rescue of Captain Jahn.
Smith by the Indian girl. The bowl was
finished at top and bottom with wreaths of
Virginia creepers, forest leaves and blos-
eoms.
To bring out this precious lichdoorn lit
honor of a guest was making him of conse-
quence indeed.
Jim knew all about it, and when he.
caught sight of the pretty tea -table he.
understood the girl's intention, amd
shot a quick, grateful glance aeross to
her from his brown eyes. A whimsical
Memory of a superb breakfast he had once.
seen served to is man about to be hanged
obtrftded itself, but he banished it loyally -
It was a merry meal, despite the shadow.
in the background, for the gentlernea
taking their cue from Pocahontas vied with
each other in talking immense, and depict-
ing ridiculous phases of camp life in the
tropics with Jim always for the hero of the
scene. Ancl Jim, shaking off the dismai
emotions peculiar to farewell visits, re-
sponded gallantly, defending himself from
each sportive attack, and illuminating his
exile with such rays of promise as occurred
to him. He knew these old friends were
sorry to lose him, and trying to lessen the
wrench of parting ; and being a quiet, self-
controlled man—more given to action thaxa
speech, andwith a deep abhorrence of
scenes, he appreciated their efforts.
After tea Berkeley and Boyall lit their
pipes and strolled out toward the stables,
leaving Jim and Pocahontas alone together
on the porch. The girl leaned back in her
chair silently, not trying to make converse,
tion any more, and -Jim sat on the steps at
her feet, letting his eyes follow wistfully
the slope of the lawn, and the flow of the
river. Presently, without turning his head,.
he asked her to walk with him down to the
old willows by the riverside, for a farewell
look on the scene so dear to him, and Po-
cahontas rose instantly and slipped her
hand within his proffered arm.
Down by the river, where the lawn bent
softly to the wooing of the water'stood two
ancient willows of unusual size; they were
gnarled with age, but vigorous and long
limbed- The story ran that once a
Pocahontas Mason, the lady of the manor
here, had lovers twain—twin brothers who
being also Masons were her distant cousins.
One she loved, and one she did not, but both
loved her, and being passionate men .both
swore that thew would have her,
come what might ; and cause any man than
came between, most bloodily to rue
it. Between the brothers there arose quar-
rels, and ill feeling, which afflicted the
lady, who was a good woman, and averse
to breaking the peace of families. Than
brothers—tisin.brothers—should be scowl-
ing venomously at each other because of
her, appeared a grievous' thing, tknd she
set herself to mend it. By marrying the
man she loved, she could end the affair at
once, but his brother would never forgive
him, and before love had maddened thein.
the men. had been friends as well as
brothers. She gauged their characters
thoughtfully, and hit upon a plan—
which, at the expense of some self-sacrifice,
would arrange the matter peacefully.
Bidding both lovers attend her one
day, she brought them to this spot, and
cutting two willow wands of exactly the
same length and thickness she stuck thena
deep into the moist soil, and announced her
decision. They would wait three years,
she said, and at the end of that time the
man whose tree hacl grown the strongest,
should. come and olefin this answer. She
would attend to both willows herself, giving
to each the same care, and treating them
with equal. fairness: Then she 'made the
men shake hands in. amityonce more, and
swear to abide -by her deicsion. ,
The story tirthertells that' both willows ,
flourished finely, but that in the last year
the true /ove's tree outstripped:its mate'as
was right and proper. As the lady had
anticipated, when the term of probation
expired only one of the twins appeared to
claim an answer to, his snit. And in the
pocket of the constant man, when he kissed
his own true love, lay is letter, from across
the seas, full of brotherly affection and
congratulation.
'This little story VAS a favorite with.
Pocahontas, and she was fond of relating
how her great -great-grandmother by a littIe
wit and generous self-sacrifice, averted a.
feud between brothers, and kept family
peace unkoken.
(To be continued.)
It is estimated that at least 1,000,00{1
pounds of rubber are annually ttsecl for
bicycle tyres.
"August
Flow-el)"
Biliousness, eI dhwa with
ben tal
faisnects;
" an d constipation
ConstIpttion,,, for fifteen years ;
Stomach "first one and then
another prepara-
Pal"' tiollvgdnbu
sutg`gedesct
te
tt
"to no purpose. At last a Mend
" recommended August Flower. I
"took it according to directions and.
" its effects were wonderful, reliev-
" ing me of those disagreeable
" stomach pains which I had been.
"troubled with so long. Words
"cannot describe the admiration
"in which I hold your August
"ower—it has given me a new
"lease of life, which before was a
" burden.. Such a medicine is aben-
wefoanctdiethonitio hmue-naranjiteyss,
ax
gooci
qua es and
• •
"its should be
" made *known to ir r" vc' ire
"everyone slitter- Humboldt,
mg with dyspep.
"sia or biliousnets Katy -tat.. •
G . G. GREEN, Sete Illan'tr,Niroodbety,M,i,
•ra