HomeMy WebLinkAboutThe Exeter Advocate, 1895-5-3, Page 6COP_IHW THHO THE RYE,
BY Kamen B. slATIL14124,
Sztorms—hur story opens with the family of
te canary enuire spending the aabbath morning,
writing epeeists teat as they are all more or less
loud of fun, these t riataise oemewhat of the
tumorous. The family eonsects of ten elaldren;
an bright alai bubbling over with naisenter. rhe
knolNa W1101*t.e ebildren as the gover-
nor, is 5 typistal angaish gentiernan, The call-
dren, are very inueli in s e o him. Elie Will /8
law to them and ater infraotiou of the law as
Jit dowa by him ii subjeetto severe punish-
ment,
(ootereNtnen.)
I have swallowed half an egg and a pitt
of salt tears for breakfast ; I have wished
papa good by, or rather•I have aimed a
damp eh et at his nuse between. the sheets
(he is ill) nand. now I am standing in tee
hall, hugging my plentiful brothers and
sisters all nand, kissing ehem passiox.
ately with stasaining cheeks and louct
sobs that might melt the heart of a stone.
Finally 1 bolo lusadloug into the carriage,
where =steer site awaiting me, and bur-
row in the fi or thereof. Charles Love
lane put is hand in at the window to
squeeze a. tiny paantet into nay hand. I
cannot think hira, for my voice is attun-
ed. to not:ling bat howls; and. away we
go, I lift myself froni my abased posi
don to wave my drippiag pocket hand
kerchief at the group by the door, and
find some small euratort in tee fact that
they axe crying, every one, except
Charles. The siglat of their regret gives
me fresh aeoess of grier, and. I am just
retiring hentn.d my useless handkerchief
to indulge in a storm of sobs when the
[ferriage stops, and George Tempesteomes
to the window. "Gooi-by," he says,
taking my hilted in his and looking pain
edly at my blubbered, miserable face
"good -by 1 " Teat is all he says, and yee
he conveya as meash sorraw and sym-
pathy in the Inanely word as tlaougb. he
had talked tor an hour. As we drive on
again I begin a fresh bout that ineludes
the leaving hini iu its grievances; and by
the time a e reach the station I aai damu
enough to give any one near me a (sold,
if it were wintsr instead of summer time.
jack fish m out, and. puts me in the
waiting-reom with the rest uf the luggage,
and, walla the feeeman gets our tuskete,
he tries te revive my droowines spirits by
sketches as to what we will do in the
Christmas hull'as. But, oh! on this
burning dog -day Christmas seems a very,
very lung way off ; bes.des, why should. I
not be having my holidays now instead
of looking flee muntbs ahead? I ought
not to be going at all.
The train comes snorting in—how sick-
eningly hot it lotik.s —and somehow I am
bundled inao ie. As it is starting I lean
out of the window'and, regardless oi
porters and his ewn disgust, I hug Jack
round the [leek with despairing energy
and a splashingshower of tear. 'Good -
by," I cry, waving my wet rag and. scar-
let nose out of the window as long as he
is in sight; then 1 tumble back into the
earria,ge, plump int s the arms of a nerv-
ous, spindle shauked., elderly gentleman,
who shoots me off his knees with such
vigor that 1 fly into a seat on the oppos.te
side. It matters very little to me where
I am, for my whole attention is taken up
with hard crying—crying that is as un-
like other people's tears as a floodgate is
to a brooklet. I wonder if, when I am
grown up, I shall get out of this habit of
wasteful, exhaustive weeping? I always
did save nrs troablee up into a lump and
clear them all off • at once. It takes me
some time to begin, but when I do I don't
stop in a hurry. We are half way to our
destination bezore my nose and cheeks
have lost their first glossy shininess, and
the elderly gentleman has shut his gap.
ing month in. amazem.ent. Thauk good-
ness I have mother; and after a white she
brings me to a tolerable state of com-
poster°.
Charteris the pia le to which I am go-
ing, is eighty miles from home; so it is
evening before we arrive there—the last
six miles being performed by coach
through scenery that would delight me
were not roy heart so heavy. We stop
before a long, low budding, with a great
many veinlows in two level lines, It is
approached. by a handsome carriage drive
terminating in a species of court, and the
house door is entered by a porch. We
are shown into a moderately large room
hung with maps. It has a stiff, school-
ish air that clans me and prepares my
soul for all manner of cold, barren, love
less laws and habits. What would I not
give for our battered, n.eisy, disreputable
old school room at Silverbridge? The
door opens and Miss Tyburn enters, state-
ly, imposing, grave. She scans me so
closely as se takes my hand that I feel
she is reading to the very bottom of my
soul. Presently she asks mother if she
would like to see the dormitories and
schools, and we follow her along a glass
corridor and into a dining room, vast and.
sctuare, with three triage windows. The
wal s are hung with bust of Homer, Axis -
tole, Cieero and all the grand. old poets,
senators and orators. Over the mantel-
piece hangs a picture of St. John and the
Lamb painted in oils. We go through
endless school and class -rooms filled with
girls. who look with some astonishment
at neat I walk behind my elders and so
ap-tairs to the dormitories, which are
lona and wide, witb windows on both
sites, and partitioned off into narrow bed-
rooms just large enough to contain a bed
and. a small square box, while a curtain-
ed shelf runs aeross from one side to the
other exactly above the bed and a thick
curtain closes in the room at the en-
trance. We go clown stairs again, and
very. soora mother takes her departure.
She is going to sleep the night at the
house of a friend who lives twenty miles
away. 0, mother, motheras you drive
away, do yoa know what a wretched,
wretched child you leave behind?
Ly! she knows, and her heart is every
• whit as heavy as mine. I am too much
in awe of Miss Tyburn to do more than
sniff noiselessly after mother goes: be-
sides, I ham.) literally no tears left, One
can be sorrier, I am slue, whea one's eyes
are dry than when they are wet. Miss
Tyburn speaks to me kindly—indeed, I
am. a spectacle that might Move any one
to c,onapassion—and sends for " Mary
Burns," who presently comes—a gentle,
fair, slim girl of fifteen, and into her
ehrixge I am given and dismissed. She
takes me up stairs, and, having washed
ray face and snaootbect my hair, I go
&wia with*, her to the schoolroom, where
(for it its a half holiday) aboat fifty girls
are reading, writing, talking, laughing,
morns.* g about an.cl buzzing like a hive of
bees. The noise eoniforts and reassures
me. What I have dreeded was the still-
ness, the Stiff form slity of the life of
rontite 3 clearly my notionof female
[awl life weft mistaken. ones,
On oar arrival we axe quickly aural:pad-
ed, and I am ehaffed, eateehized and °vet -
hauled. in a suffielently mercilessly fash-
ion. Though somewhat taken aback, I
prove, however, equal to the (mama
I. am not one of a large family for
ing—she 'who could retain any o
nutuvaiee honte yelept. ba khfulueSs,
be unable to fight her own battles a
tlae training I have bad, would either be
a vicious idiot (sr a solemn and. self- baele to
satisfied prig. (gear eyes.
By supper time I am feeling tolerably hear the
eheerfal, but my heart snake again, as brook, an.i!
alter prayers a chorus of "good nights" will come
echoea around sue, and a storm of kisses, silence,
eoth deep and bud, heats on my aston-
ished ears. There are about sixty females e
,f all ages present, and they ell kiss one A. anew esa in nee begun.
another with a hearty vigor that sounds All my life long
and longed for lostiet,rataast
as if they liked it, an old' maid of six
We are not a kissing iamiler at tette ; PAS''
there is much affeetion between us, but laeart ; and now, lo 1 vi -
little sentiment, Save when we have deuce, who so rarely gra
being his heart'a desire, 4
•
cmarrelled, or are plug on. a journey, we feet, and any day I may s to them,
rarely ernTace eaelt other. It is a teat -
and enjoy the exquisite satisfaction of not
ter of course to kiss mother whenever we
only feeling a boy, but looking one Ifp-
e in, bat we never dream of indiscrimi-
nate caresses emote,' ourselves—that must stairs in my box lie two simple garments
n
indeed be a wonderful gush of misery or ever yet worn, but which [may be called
atfeceion that produces a hug. Therefore upon. to don at any moment. Perhaps
this aftern.00n the summons may come,
lest 1. be pounced on and kissed in mis-
and I shall cast my incurnberances to the
take for somebody else, I precipitately
winds and for once feel like jack. If he
retire to my te d, where I sleep as soundly
and well as though leaving home and go- could only see me! On. the whole, though,
I
ing to school were a most regular every-
am rather glad he cannot, for 1 kno w
dy affair.
he would. laugh, and I have a snea king
a
An evil bell Slanging through the plea- conviction that my tout enserable in my
sant tangle of a dream awakens me. Be_ 310W gear is more likely to provoke deri-
sion than admiration. Bat oh, it is com-
fore I am, half dressed it sounds again,
!eatable 1 I have put it on behind my
but somehow or other I scramble down-
stairs behind. the rest to the schoolroom, drawn curtain over and. over again, for
no earthly reason but to assure my eyes
where lessons ars gone through for an
hour, while I look on; then prayers, and. touch that I am not dreaming, and
that it is my very own, made for me,
cem.ducted in a widely different fashion
rom that prevailing at home; then We are all at work in the school room
f
breakfast—good tea, good bread. sweet toiling at "seam, gusset and band," and
envying heartily the •blankbird, who is
butter ; then to church, where the ser-
vice lasts half an hour. The church is free as air, and knows it, singing at his
ease as he swings on. the apple bough
scereely bigger than a chapel, quite love -
that looks in at the tall, narrow window!
ly in it 4 deinty smallness, an- far more
Steps come down the corridoe1, no mince
richly. garnished than are many more .
feminine ones this time, but a man's
imposing entices. The seats are of easy- Me:
ed oak, every window is of stained glass
the east one, a soft blaze color, through. bold, decided tread. I lay down my stitching to listen. The door opens, a
which the light falls on the tessellated. head. is popped in. "Crieket!" says a
chancel oor in glorious patches of
voice like a trumpet; • the door is shut
ben purple, green and gold. fiam-
again, and down go work and thimbles,
The clergyman almost makes me jump a Babel of delighted cries burst forth, and
in thirty seconds the room is cleared and
as I lo 1 at him. I have seen the same
face, only twenty years younger may be, we are all upstairs pulling off ribbons,
hanging up in papa's study, between a gowns, crinolines, all our feminine .be -
print ot raglioni in her best days, and a longings, and pullingon knickerbockers
sporting celebrity, name unknown We and blouses! Yes, kmckerbockers! Let
n
have even studied this man's face with no oue blush or look shocked, for they
impertinent interest, thanks to a remark are lung and amnia, and tied modestly in
mother raade one day to the effect that at the ankle; and. as to the blouse, which
papa and he had been "old friends," and descends below the knee, and is trimly
we have speculated often enough as to belted in at the waist, it is as decent and
whether they had ever kicked each other, uncompromising as that worn by Dr.
or never fell out from sheer lack of oppor- Mary Walker; our costume being, in
-amity. short, nothing more or less than that
I am sorry when the last "Amen" is which is designated by the somewhat op -
spoken, and we step out of the dim cool P
robrious title of "Bloomer." The knick-
church, into the gaudy brisk day. 1 ani erboekers bring comfort, the tunie eon -
sorrier stiU, when at 10 o'clock, I am fers respectibility. It is a lovely thought
summoned. to the committee -room, and that I can kick up my heels to my heart's
undergo at Miss Tyburia's hands a search_ content, and yet preserve decorum. As
ing examination into the extent of my to what manner of female I look, I care
very limited mental capabilities, and. to nothing; my feelings are all I think
whatsoever questions are asked me on about, they are blissful. I feel as light
this, that and. t'other, write the answers as a feather, and equal to Jack at run-
down in a large volunan that ie called the vning, salting or hurdle -jumping.
committee -book, but is in reality a Book We have roly-poly girls andbean-stalk
of Doom, in which in her time many and girls, little girls, big girls, long girls,
many a girl has written herself down an short girls; girls whose plump proper -
ass. Th at I do the same you may be tions fit their garments so closely as a
very sure, and I presently retire with the kernel fits a shell; girls whose garments
proud conviction that in ignorance I hang upon them lot se, as did the armor
have b.aten all my predecessors, every upon Don Quixote's gaunt form; gills
one. who -waddle, amble, jig, trot, hurry and
in the afternoon I begin my real school slide—then action plainly showed in the
life evi le needlework, over which, in very marrow, straight costume. Can an Eng -
good sooth my trouble begins, for though lish girl walk? 1 trow not. This a pity
well versed in the arts of climbing and the time spent in needle -work is not
jumping, I ars utterly ignorant of the used in drilling. Conspicuous, even
gentle accomplishments of "felling" and among this remarkable throng, is the
est itehing." And so the day wears away German governess, short, square, stout,
and the morning comes, and. very soon I not over youe g, with large fiat face,
get into the ways of my new ].fe, and, in enormous feet and hands, and that gen-
spite of sundry homesiek qualms and eral look of a Dutch doll that usually
h arb sink'ngs, grow to love it very heart marks the Teutonic race. She wears the
ily. It has its ups and downs, its jealous- regulation trousers and blouse; but whe-
ies and bickeringe, its hard lessons to be ther under an impression that she is not
learned, and hard knocks submitted to ; sufficiently clad, or whether she wishes
b it none the less I find my school oast- to give a full-dress air to a somewhat
once a wholesome, pleasant happy one. severe costume, I know not; at any rate,
Now and again I am seized with a pas- she has over and above arrayed. herself
sionete longing to see them all at home. in a very darge, ample white muslin jac-
I shut my eyee and piebure them to my- ket, profusely frilled and starched, and
self so strongly that my spirit seems to tightly 'belted in at the waist, and these
go out of my body, and stand in their frills are straight out from her sturdy
midst; I wander in at the schoohoom form in a fashion that would bring a
door, and look on all their faces, one by smile to the face of a crocodile.
one, and if they only knew I was there, The wickets are pitched; the ball is
if they spoke to me, I am sure I should flying from hand to hand ; we are all
hear them— waiting for Mr. Russell, the man who in-
t had a letter from mother this morn- trtaduced the game of cricket at Charteris,
ing. She bids me use my time profitably or rather, made it an institution, for it
and waste none, for it is more precious has flourished many years, and many a
than gold. She need not be afraid; I pretty young -mother makes an excellent
know that now is my apprentice -time, long-stopor field for hersons, thanks to
now that breathing -space that is given the training she reeeived at school. To
to all young people, and. which., once Mr. Russell, therefore, be our eternal
wasted, will come back to them never- thanks due, in that he has, for a time at
more. Somehow a girl's mind at school least, emancipated us from the slavish
always mak s me think of a field on thraldom of our petticoats and, enabled
which the Sf ei is sown, which will either us to stretch our limbs and use them.
take r. ot a,nd ripen abundantly, or wither He is comingover the grass from the
away, leaving it bare and unadorned. I sehool with Miss Tyburn now; tall, erect,
never knew ht mr really ignorant I was tin a little gray, his dress showing but little
1 came here. I don't remember ever of the cleryman about it. How my heart
thinking about ther matter, but I had a leaps as I look at him ! Why did he not
vagae idea that I was a good deal worse come home sooner? His daughter is with
than A ice, but rather better than Jack. him. And now sides are being chosen,
Now I stand forth a confessed ignoramus, the game begins, and, as my side is in, I
and am beaten at all points by pert have no opportunity for making myself
youngsters of twelve and thirteen. For- look ridiculous as yet, I merely look on.
tunately, I know the nakedness of my It ie a droll sight to see a girl walk up
mind, so these is a hope that at some to the wicket and send her ball in,if not
future day it may be decently clad, it is as powerful as a man, well-nigh as
curious that the more one knows the straight; and. to see another standing,
more acutely one feels one's bareness. bat in hand, with body slightly bent for -
intensely, thoroughly ignorant people ward, awaiting it. Mr. Rassell est against
attain to a height of self-esteem.. that us, and in the next over, his fast, round -
the man who has Spent a lifetime arm bowling gives me an uneasy sense of
in amassing knowledge, only to find fear, the ball hurtles along so swiftly
that all he knows is but a drop that surely a slender ankle or arm might
in the full cup of knowledge, can never snap like sealing wax at its, onslaught;
hope to reach. My studies do not prevent and something of that Frenchman's as -
my getting into plenty of serapes; often tonishment comes into my mind who
and often my madcap pranks get me in- could not conceive the reason of Eng -
to hot water, but good. luck pulls me sage . lishmen bait g so fond of cricket, for where
ly through. We go far wonderful walks was the pleasure of standing up in a hot
through such lovely country as Silver- Mill for a man to slat' a hard ball at you,
bridge could never boast. The school is • while a lot of other fellows stood round
built on the top of a hill, and an three and looked on? If I do come to grief, I
sides the ground slopes away to the val- hens that any amount of arms . and legs
leys Following the road you descend will be broken, but not any teeth. I
this hill and. crossing a bridge on the left, never could stand false ones, and I could
pass through the flower -bright fields, and not do without any, it would be so awk-
so te the valleys through whieh a brook war*,
runs, leaping, sparkling, widening, leer- How hot it is! We are all sitting and
rowing, with a dainty border of forget- lying about under the trees; a little fur -
me mots, and reeds that stand up stiff and ther off are Miss Tyburn and Mr. Frere,
straight, likesentinelaguardingthe pretty who has jest corm over from the parson -
flowers. On either side banks and woods age. In common mercy to our numbers,
rise steeply to a.great height, In spring- he ought to play, and allow us to enjoy
time, the girls say they are speckled all the distinction Of having a man on each
over with spritig &seers, of which there side ; but apparently he is more careful
are many curious and unlcnown species, of his shins than ambitious of honor, so
never met with in flatter, duller regions. sits intthe shade at his ease, looking on.
The nightingale has made hie home flown All too soon COVIOS that terrible moment
here, He sings at tight to the brook, to when "Helen Adair!" is ealled, and, bat
the silent glades, to his mistress; and I in hand, I walk forth to my fate. I begin
know by the teletexts of his voice that he my illustriouscareer by hit -Wicket, butin
rejoicers in the beanty around him as keeris cousid oration of my extreme greenness
ly as though he had a human soul. Often and inexperience am permitted to take
I softely open ray window to listcsn to hie any innings, that is to say, if I eat get it.
deathless Pang, and wish that I viCre in. The groend flies up into my fee°, the sky
the valley benne standing on the moon- lie e at tnee feet, as I stand assittibing ray
77-
r77,
ShasKeteellsdatt
4441441 goi
1001( With
elerOW ef the hills,
leteh1#0 of the
af tine nightingale
cri 113.0 heart of the
first ball, holding with. stiff, nervous en -
ere my bat, in what may be called the
1first position" of cricket—bolt, upright,
ith any person carefully curved out, and
away from it, like cupid's bow. In comes
.he ball and I swipe wildly at it, Have I
or the wicket, or the wicket -keeper,
glf? Lam still in doubt and. unde-
er I ought to walk off to
the sliest() of
ether ball cameo
hatisly this time, nen
neat little tip ties
Frauleine's fag
itboat, and Ina
to, she ia
with,
ed
ly tree, when an-
ing in, very insicis
mellow I give ib a
ds it straight into
while I am looking
mg where it has got
ay, weeping bitterly,
ng nose, Quite overpower -
roof of my skill, I send the
al whieh somehow seems to run
of
. 1
' its own accord against my bat, a tol-
erable distance; and being pleased with
the cireumstanee, and engageclin looking
round with a modest smirk of admiration,
am amazed by being violently hustled by
my fellow bats women, who wildly ex-
horts me to run. A I had forgotton all
about the runs, I was too meeh taken up
in congratulating myself, but I set out
with a will, and am considerably taken
aback on arriving at my bourne to find
that I am ignominiously run out. •
Moral : stick to business, Back to the
tree I go, as crestfallen, miserable, and
ashamed a lass as the world contains. As
I am seating myself disconsolately, Miss
Tyburn calls me, and I jump up to obey
her bidding.
"Mr, Frere knows your father, Helen
Adair," she says; "he would like to talk
to you," and she rises and sails away to-
ward. the house, for which I am thank-
ful. How could I talk to anyone before
her?
"And so you are Alan Adair's daugh-
ter?" says Mr. Frere, stretching out a
kind hand; "and I never found it out
until to -day."
"I know you, sir," I said, nodding. "I i
have seen you hanging up n the library,
yo a know."
"Has your father still got that old like-
ness?" he asks, smiling.
"Oh, yes! Were you and papa very
great friends, sir ?"
"Not very," he says, smiling again;
"what made you think so?"
"He does not keep photographs or—or
pictures, generally."
"I knew him when we were both young
men at Silverbridge."
"At Silverbridge !" I exclaim, my eyes
sparkling. "You know my old home,
then ?"
"Yes; but your father was not mar-
ried then. I suppose he has several
children by this time ?"
"A. few, sir, twelve."
"Twelve 1". he repeats, starting back.
You are joking ?"
No, it is quite true! a.nd goodness
knows—for I'm sure we don't, whether
there won't be as many more! At home
there is always a baby, and they mount
up, you know."
"And I have not one !" he says, in a
voice that is cheerful, and yet has a faint
undertone of regret.
"Oh ! you need not wish you had
any !" I say, shaking my head ; "you
would never be able to keep them in order
—never. Papa often says that if he had
his time over again he would not have
half so many! And I am sure " I con-
tinue, looking at his kindly, gentle face,
"that you would never have the heart to
whip—"
"And does your father ?" he asks
laughing.
"R,ather ! Only ask the fry! Shall
abroad; and, when .111.r. Frere himself
eomes out to greet Met I feel blessedly,
delightedly, restfully happy.
"Bun up stairs and take off your
things, my dear," he says, and Mrs. Rim,
his housekeeper, shows me the way.
Coming down again, I find that he has
vanished, but she pushes open the door
of a room on the left, and I enter.
It is low and wide,like our Silverbridge
rooms, and it is orderly and prim as an
old maid's parlor, with great formal
bowls of flowers planted about it, and a
stiff bean -pot set in the hearth -place. The
windows are open, and though it is Sep-
tember, the late roses nod in at the win -
dews. A big, deep arm -chair is pulled
up to one of them with its back turned to
me; approaching to seat myself in it,
for a long conxse of upright chair -backs
has made ane hanker very seriously after
semething easy, I see the crown of a
dark, smooth head resting against it. I
am about to take a peep round the corner
to see who it can be, when the occupant
of the chair rises, stretches himself, and
opens his mouth for a yawn, stopping
midway as he deseries me,
"I beg your pardon," he says, shutting
his mouth with a snap, "I never heard
you come in."
"You are Mr. Frere's nephew," I say,
sitting clown on the edge of a sofa, and
looking at him; "why are you not out
shooting ?"
"I have been out all the morning. How
do you know I am Mr. Frere's nephew ?"
(To 1.15 CONTUSCHD.)
A BANKING MISADVENTURE.
to serve his COUSIII Zachary, who had,
been doing well in business of late, and•
had actually taken the Gerolstein loan
out of the hands of the Sehwartzehildsi
These sorts of triumphs bind. the heart
of banking consuls in a tight bond,
So Herr Zebedee set out on his tour of
the Cologne) hotels, and wherever he
went he was obsequiously received by
landlords and waiters, who gave him
every information in their power, being
delighted to oblige's financier of his im-
portance. Unfortunately, they could not
put him in the way of disedvering Esau.
That youth's plaotograph was respeet-
fully scrutinized. and in half a dozen
places it was affirmed that a gentleman
like him had been there; but on closer
inquiry this turned out to be incorrect.
Weary and somewaat impatient—for .
he did not like to be thwarted—Herr
Zebedee was at last fain to take a ea
and explore a new series of inns of a
lower order. He had been driving for an
hour, mad had .visited several very queer
hostelries without improviug his luck,
wheh at last, elose to a railway stiaim,
he earae upon a newly opened hote4
which had a respectable appearance,
though it was small. Here Herr Heaver
was not known; but the moment he had
exhibited Esau's photograph, the land-
lord's 'wife exclaimed : "Ach Gott, ja ;
this is the portrait of the young man
who is travelling with his we/a-beloved
bride or mistress, I know not; which
Mein Herr, this so tenderly attached
couple are dining now off veal cutlets
and Rhenish wine. Shall I take your
card?"
"No, I will go to the dining room, and
there sit down—perchance eat," said
Herr Hauser.
"Pray do so, gracious sir—a dish of
sausages stewed in prunes has just come
in," answered the landlady. "Hi, Fritz,
a customer !"
Fritz was the landlord„ a thick fellow,
with a mustache, and. with a napkin ovex
his arm, who came forward bowing, and
ushered Herr Hewer into the dining -
room. Now, the banker, having had
ample leisure to study the photograph,
had decided that Esau possessed very few
of the Hanser lineaments, and this struck
him the more when he beheld Esau in
the flesh. The youth he saw was a rather
overdressed lad with a double eyeglass,
who was making love to a fleshy, golden -
haired wench, who was sharing with him
a dish of veal cutlets; and it seemed to
Herr Zebedee that aristocratic English
education had wrought a physical as
well as a moral deterioration in this de-
generate scion of Hauser blood. Pleased
with himself, however, fox having rim
the peceant Esau to earth alone, without
police aid, Herr Zebedee was almost
good-humored as he advanced to the
table, hat in hand, and said, with a
moeking air:
"Good -day, my nephew Esau!"
"'What P exclaimed the youth thus
addressed, and he started to his feet with
disturbance depicted on his physiog-
IERR ZEBEDRE HANSER, the
great banker of Cologne, was a
very sharp man, and "bad to
beat," as the Americans say. He be -
tonged to a family that had multiplied
and spread over the earth, founding
counting -houses iisa all the capital cities
of the world, ani sucking up gold from
their adopted countries as though their
fingers were fashioned like the tentacles
of the octopus. As nothing urges a man
to despise his fellows so mueh as making
money out of them, Herr Zebedee who
was in a way the head of all the Eeanser
firms, had collected a number of aphor•
isms, as to human imbecility which he
was fond of repeating with a broad Prus-
sian grin. He was an ugly old man, with
hard features and very shiny gold -rim-
med spectacles, through whieh his eyes
gleamed with a sagacious leer of constant
mcredulity. He took snuff and dressed
in the fashion of forty years ago, wear-
ing mostly a loosely buttoned brown
coat, which reached almost to his heels,
an unstarched white cravat. and low
shoes with strings. When he went out
to the Cologne Bourse he covered his bald
head with a broad. widea wake, his hands
with cloth gloves, and carried a gold -
headed stick, wherewith he rapped the
pavement with little knocks of complex
mop, as if it were all his. The small
boys of Cologne, seeing him pass, nudged
one another, and said. :
"That is great Herr Zebedee Hauser,
%rho is as sharp as a aimlet."
One day Herr Ze'ledee, so "bad to
beat," received the following lamentable
letter from his first cousin once removed,
Herr Zachary Efanser, banker and cigar
manufacturer, of Bishopgate street, Lon-
don:
"111v DEAR &WOMB—Praise to Heaven
that the quotetions of our last loan are
looking up • but 1 am sorry to say that
yea be likely to go to Silverbridge soon? my eldest sun, Esau, is giving me a cleat
1 ask suddenly and apprehensivelyof grief. He has absconded from Lon -
"Not in the least. Why ?"
"You might tell papa I was naughty—
or—or something."
"I never tell tales," he says. "And
now. do you think Mies Tyburri would
allow you to come over to the parsonage
sometimes and make tea for me ?"
"Delightful !" I say, clapping my
hands. 'Oh!•it'will be so nice to get
away from all these girls sometimes!
They are all very well, sir, but I prefer
bays. '
"I expect a nephew in a few days;
but he is not a boy,unfortunately."
"Will he play cricket with us?" I ask,
with interest; 'one black coat does look
so lost among all these girls !"
"I am afraid Miss Tyburn would ob-
ject," says Mr. Frere, laughing again
(really he is not a. bit like most elderly
gentlemen); "he is coming for some
shooting a friend has placed at his dis-
posal near here. I shall not Bee much of
him."
"Is he nice, sir ?"
"I think so."
"Helen Adair ! Helen Adair !" echoes
on all sides. The time has come for me
to field. Surely I cannot distinguish
myself as lamentably in that duty as I
did in the other? "Good -by 1" I say in
a violent hurry. "Good -by ! But before
I go, I want to tell you that I like you
very much indeed !"
By and by 1 am able to do my side
some small service. Mr. Russell is in,
and batting away with a determination
and vigor that strike consternation. to our
feminine souls, and presently floe sends a
mighty ball straight over my head (who
am standing long field on) straight across
the cricket field and into the next. "Six!"
cry the Russellites ; but six it shall not
be, if I can help it. Laying my legs to
the ground with a will, I have cleared
the field and leaped the hedge beyond,
before he has got one. I go plump into
the midst of a stinging -nettle bed—but
that is nothing; I espy the ball and send
it home with all my might. And after
all he only gets two. .EIe oasts an ap-
proving glance on me as I return; evi-
dently he is not used to seeing girls jump.
If he only knew how thoroughly Jack
has grounded me in that doubtful accom-
plishment!
don. carrying with him a large sum in
securities belonging to our customers,
whistle it is his intention to negotiate on
the Coutinent. I trusted him with the
post of cashier for a week, and this is
tbe never -to -be sufficiently -deplored re-
sult. If this affair transpires, and Esau
he caught, he will be prosecuted, and our
credit will be damaged, not to mention
the never -to -be -underrated grief that a
father must feel; but my dear Zebedee, I
have reason to believe that our Esau will
have made for Cologne, there to hide for
awhile and negotiate his paper, so I pray
you to find out the youth, and recover
the securities from him, even with threats
of imprisonment if he resists. When
Esau has restored the paper, then, I pray
you, give him 4,000 pounds, and start
him ior the United States by the .ret
Bremen packet, telling him that his sor-
rowing father will never see him again
unless he makes his fortune in America,
and returns, like a true Hauser, to invest
it in the family business. Esau shall
have nothing beyond those 4,000 pounds,
and his brothers, Carl, Otto, and Jere-
miah. shall inherit the portion destined
for hum; so that, praise be to Heaven, I
shall be rather a gainer than a loser by
his dishonesty. The last consignment of
cigars from Hamburg was not up to the
samples, and 1 could only get rid of them
by raising the price and selling them
under a 'brand not their own—which is
never a convenient thing to do, but bet-
ter than losing money. I am your:truly
afflicted and uot-to-be-easily-eonsoled,
ZACHARY HARM.
CHAPRER XV.
It es three o'clock on Saturday after-
noon, and I am making my toilet pre-
paratory to setting out for the parsonage.
I would rather be playing cricket, but
RUSSell, after giving us a glorious
-week, has gone away again; however, he
is corning back, and the sooner the better
say I. Meanwhile, let me arrange my
clean and crackling gown, as graeefully
as the inequalities of my form permit,
and try and persuade my c,arly thick
hair to lie flat.
"Good -by, Mary," 1 say, putting my
head in at the class -room door, where
she sits illuminating a text, 'I'm going
nova"
I never did care about girls, or watt to
be great friends with any of them, but I
like Mary,
The parsonage is only a few yards
away it is right before my eyes as
walk thong the bib of road that divides it
from the school.. As I lift the latch of
the gate, and go through the old -fashion -
ea, sweet smelling garden, I?give a long
sigh of oontett, it is all so peaceinl, so
dainty, eo still. There ie a faint, supicion
of megnolia it the hall, a strut of roses
agnny.
"Sit down, nephew, sit down," said
Herr Zebedee, 1 orcingthe reprobate into
his seat with gentle violence. "We are
going to have some talk, and (here he
lowered his voice) if you try to escape I
shall hand you over to the police."
"Act Gott, wir Bind. verlorn!" ejacu-
lated the fleshy wench; and forthwith
began to weep over the cutlets.
"Kellner," said her Zebed.ee, " bring
me a dish of sausages and. prunes, with a
half a bottle of Rudesheial." He iivested
himself of his hat, his overcoat and stick,
and rubbed his hands with sarcastic glee-
fulness as he looked at his nephew, and
whispered: "Esau, threthi art a knave;
thou shalt restore me the securities thou
hest stolen and this very night thou
shalt start for Bremen, on thy way to
America."
"Mercy!" prayed. Esau, who saw that
concealment was useless, and. so clasped
his hands.
"Mercy 1" whimpered the damsel, who
was his beloved. "1 beseech you, too -
much -injured -and- never -to -be • sufficient-
ly -implored. sir, do not separate my Esau-
chen from me."
"Ye shall have four thousand pounds
to start with, and ye may both go to-
gether to the devil, said Herr Zebedee,
helping himself to a cutlet, pending the
arrival of the sausages.
"What. only four thousand pounds 1"
exclaimed Esau, in seeming consterna-
tion.
"Only four thousand !" echoed the
maiden, who always repeated what Esau
said.
"Four thousand pounds is enough to
make millions with, and thou woulds't
know it if thou wert a true Hauser," ex-
claimed Herr Zebedee, as soon as he could
speak, for the wrath and the veal that
were' choking him. "Ah, out upon thee!
na give the a bill at ninety days for the
money, and if thou wantest cash, rn dis-
count it for thee at the current rates."
"No that won't do," said Esau ; "
take it to be discounted elsewhere; and
rn spread it about that thou art badly
off in thy business, since thou canst not
avoid sharp practice."
"Post Scriptum a—Our reason for be-
lieving that Esau has gone for Cologne
is that he is traveling with a maiden who
is said. to have friends in your eity,where
she once performed as an actress. Esau
asked our leave to marry her, and when
we refused then it was that he abscond-
ed. I pray you deal gently with the
maiden, lest any scandal be raised and.
the business of our bank should suffer at
this not favorable moment, -when we
want to raise public confidence in our
last loan. I enelose Esau's photograph.
Z. H."
When Zebedee had read through this
epistle of his Cousin Zachary he took a
pinch of snuff, and a malicious twinkle
shot through his eyes.
"Ach Reber Himmel, I am not sur-
prised at this," said he. "This Beau is
this little coxcomb' whom I have never
seen, the only one among Zachary's
brood who would not come over to Co-
logne to serve his apprenticeship as a
clerk in our house. They said he was
reeeiving an aristoeratic education in
Itngland. Ah, well, we see what has be-
come of it. He is dressed in this portrait
Like an unthrifty
Zebedee Hauser was, it will be seen
one of those excellent men who always
(contrive to draw some consolationfrom
the misfortunes of others. He read his
Cousin Zachary's letter again, and. then
put on his hat aud groves to go and look
for the reprobate Esau through the differ-
ent hotels of Cologne. • The clews he had
to work upon wore very slender ; but,
fortunetely, tbe plictograph would en-
able him to trace the fugitive, supposing
the latter were artily in town, Zebech e
Hauser felt pretty anxious to lay hold of
Esau; for in the first place he did not
wish the nava() of Hauser to be dragged.
through the nil're of a erimital 'proem). -
blot ; and in al.+ text he &needy desired
.TaaS
"Ah, Well, thou haat some of the Hau-
ser blood in thee, after all," conceded
Herr Zebedee, with involuntary admira-
tion; "but I wilt not hob -nob with thee,
for though art a clumsy knave."
That night the 10 o cloek train from
Cologne to Bremen carried with it the
reprobate Esau and his plump partner.
They had 4,000 pounds in notes and gold
with them; and in exchange for this
trifle, as they were pleased to regard it,
delivered up, not without difficulty, all
the securities stolen in London. They
formed a bundle big enough to fill a car-
pet -bag, which Herr Zebedee, with con-
siderable complacency at once forwarded.
to London by a safe messenger.
ZACHARY TO ZEBEDDE-1011 have been
hoaxed., Ofir Esau is the pride of our
bank and our home. The youth who per-
sonated him must be a clerk lately dis-
charged from our house. He has duped
you all through, The securities returned
are forgeries. It was cleverly done, and
we cannot let ourselves be duped with the
four thousand pounds you have dis-
bar aed.." i
The foregoing little story s a true one,
and Herr Zebedee Hauser has, up to date
of Writing, felt bad. Be has received no
intelligence of the share Esau, and his
fellow bankers of Cologne have taken to
jibing at hi el in the delicate fashion of
Germans when they joke.
To the Rescue.
"How did the living pictures go ant
west?"
"Not very well. More than a dozen
men rose in the audience and covered.
them with revolvers,"
Profitable,
"Silence is gold eta " be dechired,
Nor strangely was it saw.
tte knew w n mot be spoke for he
Hush money had Veen paid,
,