Image provided by: University of Oregon Libraries; Eugene, OR
About The Eugene City guard. (Eugene City, Or.) 1870-1899 | View Entire Issue (Feb. 12, 1881)
TUE COTTAGE GATB. In tha sultry time of Mowing, W ben tha Balds art full oil J, Pretty Janet brings her Kwitif To the gate at clute of day. Do iron wonder Hut lite lingers Often glanansdown the UneT Do you nie why ber fin gen Seem to find their work strain? Lot dreamt hold her in their tether, Lot ii often (m w know) Idle in the urnmrr weather, Idluet in the luntet glow, ,V( w the toil of day is nyet; Janet bu not lung to wait Yor a shadow on the clover, And (uoUU'p at the gate. lluw It this? The tllghlnt theeting Hal been taken up anew; Very quiet ii her greeting, Hcarucly rainud tbiiee eyes of blue. K(w he Icuiukiii the railing, Telle bar all about the lisyi Till hie plane n.n unavailing Very little will aha my. If vou think it itrange, my reader, Learn a Icusun from the nee From the ganloii'i iuinly leader, Fairent (lower that ever blow Not at once she. flaunts her petali; Fin a bud of solier groi'ii; by aud hy tlio atreu'hiug Mpals Show a daub of rod betwovn. IrrM rock ber; sunbeutni woo ber; Wider ami wider doe the start, Opens sll hor crimson tn-anurne, Yields tbe Ingram of ber heart. ,hl the rote buds will not render All Uie aerreu in one day; And tbe maiden, shy aud tender, hy aud they. Jiudillideutas flower of the Daisy. It wm just ft week before Now Yoar nil, iicrchod on his throe-leggod stool in the connting-room of the grout bouse of Worthington Brothers, old Joo Dur ling, the ancicut hook-keopcr of the firm, was finishing bis Haturduy uight'a entries. Whon thus ongagod, a hand was luid on his shoulder, and turning hia head, he eaw his old, gray-hnirod employer, tha aolo proprietor of the flrui, besido him. "It's tho last time, niy old friond," said tho morehaut, pointing to the lot! gor; "the nnwa this evening docides everything. UnlesHsomotbing huppoos hofore tho first of January, Wortlungton Lrothors must closo doors and wind up bltSinOKS. Joo. Uld Joe started as ho listened to those invluiicholy words and ft tromor run Hi rough hnu. "Hunt my that! don't aay that. Mr, Worthiugtenl" ho ixcluimod. And he dubbod his buhl forehead with his old bandanna handkerchief as ho spoko. "Don't say that NVorthington Brothors will suspend payment, sir. "Worse than thut, Joe," roturnod the uld merchant, with a heavy High. "I see no hope of rosuiuing. The great fail 11 res in Kurope have hopelessly involved un -so that" ho stopped with a gloomy expression in his eyes "so that on or before the first 01 January, lie added, "the hoiiHO will dose its doors. Ijiould Ihiiit that; but, when I think that tho name of WorthingUn lirothors will bo dishonored " There tho old merchant broko down, Joo lewd his hand, and cried in a from bliiiR voieo: "Don't, tlon'tl don't any that, sirl Don't use that word 'dishonored!' It is not to bud!" "Kuiu! utter ruin!" fcrounod tlio inor chant. "No, no ; not ruin! See here, sir. you soe, I have snvod ft little-" And old Joo drew from his Docket book with uiiHtoudy hand, certillcutcs of iIoiMiititft in various bunks. "Take it, sir! It was all made iu your service I houestly mude there is not a tlirty Hulling lu it, sir. it is yours and" lie thrtiHt the papers into tho mer chant's hand, lint Mr. Worthington pushed them back. "No, old friend," suid tho merchant, sighing deeply, out speaking in a voice of resignation -"no, that is not the wav Worthwgtou Brothers do business. If wo fail, it shall bo honestly alouo after honorable exertion. Wo will not drag down our friends, and you, Joe, our oldest and best. ISo, tho Iiouno lias kept faith and honor for tlfty years. If ruin comes wo will godowuulono. It is not our fault. I will do my duty and trust in (lod, Joo, to tlio end. As ho spoke, the old niorehant went to his safe and took out a roll of bunk notes. Then ho directed tho various em ployes to bo seut for, and paid them all mi to tlio end or tlio thou present week. Ho lind a kind word fur each, and an in quiry about every mail's family or con eorus; and then he turned to his desk. Hut the men did not go. "what aro you waiting for, my friouils f C an J assist you in any man ner ?" asked tho old merchant. "If you idouso, sir," said the foremost of tlio party, "wo would liko to leave our money iu your hands. Kb ?" And tlio speakur turned toward his companions, who tttteral a nourso inur uinr of assent. "Leuvo your money in iny bauds?" said the merchant. . "Just so," was tho reply. "We hear tell how times are hard with tho Worth ingtou lirothors, and tho houso in ditll cultios. Now we don't wautour money as yet, Mr. Worthingtou. Eh? Do you?" And ho 1 miked toward those in the rear. Another growl of assent replied. "All which," tlio spokesman added, "goes to show, sir, thut we aro not in want. Keep the money, Mr. Worth iugton. Tho merchant gazed w ith deep emotion at the rough, honest faces. "Thanks, thanks, my kind friends !" he said. "This proof of your friend ship touches nie deeply, but I cannot accept your offer. Such small sum, besides, would be of littlo service. No, no keep it, nd may God bless yon and yours." The employes retired on this, not dar ing, it seemed, to tntrudo further on the head of the house. "Father in heaven, I thank Thee J" murmured the merchant, and, turning away, he picked up the evening paper to hide tis emotions. As his eyes full upon it paragraph attracted bis attention. It announced the failure of the bank in which the savings of hia old bookkeeper had been deposited. Withft sivb be handed it to Joe Dar ling, and said: . "I deeply rogret this, my old friend. My ruin was enough." Old Joe read the announcement with a sinking heart, and echoed the sigh of his old friend. "The Lord's will bo dono, sir!" he said; "you ought to have all. but I am now penniless. Your trouble is greater than mine. Any letters, sir, by to night's mail ? Any resources or impor tant intelligence?" "No resources, Joe, and bad news almost worse than all." "Worse, sir?" "Yes, yes. You remember my son Charley of course you remember him. Yon know lie went aioui two years since to live w ith Van Zandt & Co., at Ant werp?" "Yes, sir; what of him ? Don't toll mo ho is not dead, sir '!" "No that pang is spared me, but I have had very bad news of Charley, my old friond. I wrote recently, announc ing our situation, and rrooommendiug his return, and Messrs Van Zandt & Co. replied thut he had left thorn nearly a year ago." "Left thorn ?' "Yes, yes. He. had fallen into evil courses and they reprimanded him when he went off, no ouo know whither. Lotters were writton to mo by the house, but tuey must havo been miscarried. Nothing has since boen heard of Charley. I fear he hits taken to more evil ways still. Ho may be dead, indeed! Un happy that I am ! All connected with me seem to turn out badly!" The merchaut uttered ft groan. Old Joe looked at him with doep commisera tion. "I am more fortunate than you are, Mr. Worthington," he said, in a low tone. "I had ft son a noblo boy ho. is dead, sir! Yon knew my Edmund! He was so handsome, so spirited, so bold; and he was lost at sea. He was a whaler tho ship founderod, and the crow wore lost. My poor Edmund! We aro truly unfortunate fathers, sir." There tho conversation ended, and the merchant and book-keeper scoaruted. New Year's morning, and the snow was fulling and the wind whirling around it like mad. A thousand goblins seemed laughing and turning somersaults and hailing each othor as tbov sported round the gables aud whistled through the key holes and chimneys, wild with mirth, and old Joo Darling's small house, in a remote street of tho groat city, seemed especially honored by the hobgoblins, who shook the windows until they rattlod again. A great lire was burning and the break fast table was sot, and old Joo was rub bing his hands in front of the blaze and looking out of the window, whon a voieo behind him, with a rush of laughter in it and sounding like a silver boll, ex claimed: "Uuppy Now Year father, dear. I havo caught you." Old Joo turned around. As he did so a pair of rosy lips pressed his cheek and two arms u'luug about his nook, belong ing to a littlo fairy of seventeen. "Why, you look liko a sunbeam, Daisy,'' ho said. And indeed tho faco resembled one so brilliant was tho light of hor eyes. Daisy was small, with a neat, cosy figure, iu a plain but pretty dross; and you saw at a glance thut this was one of theso littlo fingered fairies, who are tho blessings of the homos iu which they rulo. Tho father smiled aud fondly possod his hand over her hair. As he looked at hor ho thought of his well-nigh penniless condition and hoavod a sigh. "Poor little lady bud! I have nothing for you!" he said, sighing again. Hut Daisy did not seem to regard the circumstances as at all depressing. On tho contrary her faco glowed, ami turn ing hor bright face toward one sido, she whispered: "I vo got a Now Year's present for you, father dear. "Havo you? Now, you'vo gone and workod your little lingers to tho bono Us a cravat, or" "No, indeed, I've dono nothing of the sort that is not your prose nt. Their talk was interrupted, however, by tho appearance of Mother Darling ami her nock, w itu old undo John, look ing wiso and sedative. Thon tho dinner appeared and rivited all eyes. The groat roast turkey and round of beet and llaukiug side-dishes roused wild enthusiasm. Old Joo do voutly said grace, and tho youthlul members of the Marline family, chim ing liko a Hock of birds, called tho other's attention to tho splendid ban quet. Alien all sat down. Old Joe looked around "There is one seat too many," ho remarked. "I set it there, brother." suid Undo John tranquilly. for whom, brother? Havo you iu- vited a friend?" "No, brother, I thought of our Ed mund." Tho old bookceper looked wistfully at his brother, and then wont and held out his hand to him. "Thank you. brother." he said, iu a low voice, returning to his seat. When tho first pang had parsed, it seemed a satisfaction to old Joe to gaze at the vacant chair, and to think of his son being present and enjoying their happiness. Suddenf y the voice of Daisy rantr out. half choked w ith laughter: " hy, we are forgetting tho presents. Did anybody ever?" she cried. And not waiting for "auvltodv to replv, Daisy started up, and assisted by Uncle John bore a magical cedar in a neut box covered with evergreen to tho centre of the table. Night bud now come, and tho tapers on the tree were lit and the fairy specta elo of many colored bankets, candy cor nucopias, and the presents of needle- orkand loovs and garlands flashed forth in tho mellow light of the tapers. "Now Uncle John is going to tell a beautiful story! Will you listen, father dear, and mother? It is lovely." The laughter in the voice made all look at Daisy. Why did the ohild's checks nusu so, and why that daziling light in her eyes? But now Uncle John riveted every body 'a attention. For the moment he was tbe oentre of excited interest for the whola Darling family. lue uie 1 am going to relate, my dear young frionds,M said Uncle John, "I must inform you is strictly true in every particular. "there once lived in the city of Bag dad an old merchant whose name was Barilzac, which, being interpreted, is Worthy Man. Aboa-ben-darling, whose caravans brought to Bagdad all the treas ures of the East. But misfortune came. The caravans were overwhelmed in the sands of the desert. The moment was near when Barilzao would probably be compelled to strew dnst upon his head and wander through the streets of Bag dud, crying, 'Harilzac, the merchant, is ruined!'" His only son had boen lost at sea, and the heart of Abou-ben-dorling was sad. "Abou-bon-durling is miserable!" he said; "there is no man more miserable!" As he thus spoke, his daughter Pari banou approached him. The name of I'aribanou, my children, signifies the Flower of the Daisy. (She came now to Abou-ben-darling, and kissing him in the Eastern fashion, said: "Oh! Father! Oh! Abou-ben-darling, do not despair! Behold the feast is sot, and the holy cedar tree blazes; the tapers therein shine like stars, and many gifts hang down from the branches of the wondrous treo!" "And there is a gift that our father will value more than all else a pack ago with his name on it from a distant land !" They did not look at Daisy, who was troubling, and whose hand scarce possessed strength to draw a letter from Lor bosom. Undo John continued: "And Abou-ben-durling suid: ' Where is this package, my child ?" to which the Flower of the Daisy replied: "Father dear, it is here ! Soo, I take it from tho boughs of the holy cedar treo, and give it to yon!" As Uncle John uttered the words, Daisy sprang forward with a letter in her hand. "Here futhor dear!" she criod, bursting into tears and laughter. "It nearly killed me not to tell you 1 Oh, lake It, take it! Our Ildmund is not dead !" And throwing her arms around old Joe's nock, she soblied upon his bosom, while with eyes full of wonder, ho read the letter from his son. As ho read on, he seomod to doubt whether he was reading a real letter. His eyes closed: lie utterod a sigh ond would have fainted had not Uncle John caught him in his arms. Tho letter was written to Daisy by her brother Edmund. He had been picked up in tho Faoilic and caniod to tho South Seas by a trading vessel; thonco he had worked his way to California, cn oouuterod Charles Worthington roaming about in in tho gold rogions they had speculated thore and were coming homo on the next steamer. That was the letter. As Joo grew faint, l'ot suddenly ran behind his mother's apron, uttering an appalling scream. At the door stood a tell young man with a ferocious board. "How are you, father and mother, and Daisy?" They ran into his arms, uttering crios and sobs. The sailor was home again, novor to leave them more; and as Daisy rested in hor doar brother's arms with hor rosy cheoks npon his breast, she said, laughing and crying: "Fothor, doar, how do you like your Now Yoar's gift?" The windows shook as sho spoke. It was, doubtless, the merry goblins, highly pleased with thcmsolves and everybody elso; and the holy night the bapyy, blossod night wont on its woy full of joy and gratitude. A year afterward, strange to say, saw tho houso of Worthington Brothers pros perous, aud old Joe happy, and Charles the husband of the Flowor of the Daisy. And agaiu the cedar tree was lit aud spread around its cheerful light, and the loud wind laughed, aud tho merry, goo lius seomod to shout: "A happy New lear. A Que u's Kindness. In Naples tho papers toll a very protty story of tho Queen of Italy. It oppcars that as she was driving to tho royal wood of Licalo, the coachman mistook the road, and one of the gentlemen asked a countryman tho way. The. man, seeing tlio tine carriage and horses and tho ser vants' livory and nil the gay company, thought ho was being fooled. "As if you did not know!" ho said, with a grin. Tho Queen laughed, aud assured him they wero lost. T hen only did the countryman con- doseond to poiut out tlio way, after which ho walked off as if fearing to be htughod at again. "(livo him -H) francs for his trouble," said the Qjtocn to ono of hor escort, who going up to the man, said: "Hero, my man, is a little present from the Queen of Italy, who thanks you." "The Queen!" cried the countryman, returning to the carriage. "Forgive mo thut I did not know thee, but I had never seon thee before. Thou art as beautiful as a May roso. Clod bless thee." Having once seen tho Queen, ho wanted to soe hor pretty face again, and tho next day he presented himself at the palace. "I know hor," ho said mysteriously. "1 spoke to her yesterday, auV. I want to speak to her again." Thinking ho had to do with a mailman, tho porter was about to have the poor fellow arrested, when tho vory gentle man who had given him the 20 francs ap peared, and told him to wait. He in formed the Queeu of his presence. "Bring him bore by all means," was her answer. When Die man was for the second tiiuo before the Queen, he said: "les; tis thou. 1 thought I had seen a fairy. Thou aro just an angel. I have two little ones without a mother. Wilt thou be their mother?" "Thut I will," itsid tho Queen. "Then there's the 'Jtl francs thou guv- est mo yesterday. I thank thee, but I do not want money. The Queen has adopted the two little ones, and they aro in an institution under her special patronage. "Can there be happiness where is no love?" aolemuly queered an author in a book on marriairo? Not much happiness perhaps, but if the girl is awfully rich mere can ne iota oi inn. " What is home when papa's absent?" sings a Lake county bard. We do not know ; but in Chicago, without a majolica jar in the front hall for folks to stumble over, home is usually quiet; HUT (ilKL Mrs. Babra Gaston sat, knitting, in her parlor. It was not ft modern parlor, with draied doors, ecrn window enr Uins, embroidered screens and quaint china; but an old-fashioned parlor, with cumbrous mahogany and hair-doth fur niture; an open fire-place, with brass andirons and cross-stick, and window shades of stiff, greon paper. But Mrs. Gaston would have been amazed if you had told her that there could be anything handsomer in parlor furnishing than orthodox hair-cloth. To her it was unquestionably the correct thing, and she was never more satisfied than when her capable hands could find nothing more to do in the way of house work, and she brought her sewing in bore and sat down. She was a good woman, who meant to do hor duty and be at peace with all the world; but to-day there was a cloud on her usually serene brow. "Take boarders!" she muimured to herself, drawing out her seam-needle and laying it thoughtfully across hor lips, as she swayed back and forth in the low rocker. "I never did and never thought I should; but perhaps I would like it for a littlo change. Brother Ben. writes that it's a Mr. Walcott, who is out of health, and his wife, child aud daugh ter. That daughter is whut I object to I sympathize with sick and suffering peo. pie, and hnve always been called a mas ter hand at doctoring up ailing folks with horbs and a few little comforting notions o' mine. I don't objoct to him. The wife isn't a bit stuck up, Bc,n. soys, though they're woll-to-do people; and I'm fond of children. But a young lady, with hor pert notions, muking fun of everything that is old-fashioned and re spectable, and with sit tucked skirts and ruffled fixings in the wash every week, I never could abide. In fact, if it wasn't for tlmt cHrl I'd take 'em." After awhile, si rose and went thronh the houso, looking observantly about her. "I s'pose it would look sort of pleas ant ',o city folks, after the heat and dust of town,'' she suid. "If so, I don't sup pose it's my duty to keep it nway from fem." They were mostly low, wide rooms, ex quisitely clean and comfortable, perfect ly quiet, and looking out upon rich, green glass, rows of current bushes aud low-boughed apple treos. 1 f,.t ..of .ml tn-n wliim bittnna filled the seat of a chiutz-covered rocking -1 . ' , - 1 .1 1 ., 41. A cuuir; a ouriy, uronu nug mj u iuo wido, bine door-stone, winking sleepily nt tlm Miiw a ennm-v huncr in the porch: but, though thoro was a man's straw hat in a big arm-chair in the door yard,.irs. Gaston was alone iu the pleasant old farm-house. "I'll let Forest decide," she suid at last. Tretty soon, a cheery whistle sprang up among tho apple trees, and a young man, in his shirt sleeves, with a rake over his shoulder, came up idly between tho rows of currant bushes. "Hay's all made and in, mother. To morrow I'll take hold of that transplant ing." He hud a handsome, brown face, a pair of frank blue oyes, a pleasant, cheery, voice, ond you could have Bworn that he was his wiuowod mother's idol. "Forest, you toll me what to do. Shall I take those city folks to board or not?" Mrs. Gaston spoke with emphasis. Forest laughed, showed a set of white teeth, and an engaging dimple in ono bronzed check. "Do just as you're a mind to, mother," proceeding to cool his heated head by drenching his curly hair with glittering cold water from the well at tho door. It dripped in showers upon the green grass. "I think I would if it wasn't for that girl, Forest. Girls are so full of airs- city girls, I moan. "Porhaps she won't bo vory bad. Just bring me a towel, won t you, mother ? "I think I'll tako 'em, she said, after a moment, coming back with tho towel. "Somohow it seems as if I'd better." "Well, be snro you get good help. They'll make lots of work," remarked 1 orest, as ho walked on. As appeared, he was roally indifferent in tho mutter. All the spring he had been planning to go to Nuntusket during tho coming month, and would soon bo gouo. If his mother choso to receive theso pooplo and stuv at homo, instead ef going on ft visit to his grandfather, on the adjacent farm, as previously ar ranged, he did not care. That evening came another letter from Brother Ben, "Dear S.usiu Told my friend you'd tako them, aud they aro comi'ig right along. Try to nurso up tho'Squlie; he's very poorly. His wife is a good littlo soul, out she don't know anything about sickness. Hendie't. a nice littlo boy, and you'll like Amy. I'll try aud run out by and by; but business is very pressing this summer." "Well, I'll havo to bake, do up the window curtains, and put clean sheets aud slips on tho beds, then they may come any time," said Mrs. Gaston, after a moment's thought. "Like Amy? That's the daughter, I suppose. Likely. I actually dread thut girl! I know! I've seeu too many city young ladies." Just thon wheels rumbled up and stopped at the dfKJr. . "Sakesalivo! the stage!" Yes, and out stepped a pale gentle man w ith a littlo boy in his arms, aud two ladies. Forest had gone; Mis. Gaston stood alouo in the doorway. "Is this Mrs. Gaston? We are the Walcots. Your brother," began the palo gentleman, breathlessly, putting down the littlo boy. "Como right in!" cried Mrs. Gaston. "You're all tuckered out. I'm glad to see you all, though I wasn't quite ready," she confessed, timiincr the cuts nut nf tha chintz rocker, aud placing it by the open wimiow oi tue sitting-room for Mr. Walcott. It wosn t unite the conventional way of receiving boarders, but tho tired peo ple thought they never heard or seen anything more delightful. As for Mrs. Gaston, she entirely forirot the nlnn.-. tionable "girl." She only saw four gentle and rather tired faces and was im mediately in her nlempnt mini atari tin? r. the needy. She took the hats and dns- A 1 1 t ..a . ... iers, aim orougnt a piu'uer ot sparkling water, and ft slice of home-made bread and butter for littl Hendomnn !,. made the little boy's eyes shine. II ' .A 1 . "wsuw supper isat ready, and children can't wait when they are hun gry she said. .aJ t boTufd mealohe Ub-fe in less than L A."ln as'suppor wa. over, Mrs. Gas toJ shTod herWrdor. into the parlor w. , .f nn sta rs to spread the She was rather surprised to find at the end Tf the hall three formidable trunks, whore the driver of the stege had de posited them, after conducting his pas Hcngers to the door. Suddenly the hall door opened, anu oreoi yu. o- 1D"Whttt's theso, mother? Are these . . .. L,.a l,nr war naint what tne young , i," , in' By George !" lifting the handlo of ono, there ain't a man in the country could bock them up those stairs. , 'T ,in'f know what's to be done, said Mrs. Gaston, helplessly. "Lot thorn be t .. Vnrauf " IOr IUO prescut, v.v.... This matter was easily adjusted by a suggestion from Mrs. Wallcott. "Well, mother," said Forest that eve ning, having just roturnod from the vil lage "have you found the young lady very formidable ? I couldn't get back to take a poep at her." "Bless us, I couldn't tell how she looks to save my life!" replied Mrs. Gas ton; "I've boon in such a stir ever since thcycamo. But about those trunks, For est. Mrs. Walcott says the heaviest ono is full of books, and can be left any- . l.nra nn OTnilTlll floor. TllO OtUOrS nilUlV V la iiiw O .a wore lighter, and I got grandpas man to take them up. io luma. ui lugging half a tou of books about with them!" , Forest's bright fuee suddenly gretv lu- mlnnna "Perhaps the young lady wears green glasses and is studying niouicuw ; uo laughod. Then, seriously, and rapping i,o l,lo anmrt.lv with his knife-handle. as ho ate a late supper: "1 11 bet they are the right kind." "Yes," said Mrs. Gaston, looking pleased, "I forgot you were fond of books, too. Tn anifn nf KrinnA clmi'DY'S laid UPOn herself, Mrs. Gaston slept past hor usual hour, and roso in a hurry. Of course, not vet provided with any do- ,1 had cnmmeucotl Lor Uivnwv a- j' I preparations for breukfust, somewhat hurried and worried, when the kitclion door swung open and a little figure in tho neat print dress anu a largo ginguaw apron entered the room. "It sooras that we came upon you un expectedly, Mrs. Gaston, and yon are unprovided with help," said Amy Wal cott. "so you mnst let me help yon.to 1 !... T . .,.! tr. oil l.fn.lu r.t housework. What shall I do first ? "Woll " eniil Mrs (tastnn. more amazed than Bhe could show, "Thores everything to do coffee to boil, biscuit to make, ham and eggs to fry, potatoes to put on, buckwheut " "1 will make the biscuit," said Amy, i. i i . 1 1 i roiling up ner Bieeves uuiuy, uuu eipun inrr (nn tirntrv nrnlH "if von'll olease tell "o i -v " 1 -- - me where the flour and baking powder , - . , a, T,1 At. and puns are. Anu tueu in iry me Atrira " alia mliloil siftincr flnur linmlilv. tv i , o ; ti "I always make sour milk biscuit; per haps you don't know anything about these, suggested Mrs. Gaston. "I guess I can manage them; I've studied chemistry a little," replied Amy. Studied chemistry to learn how to cook! Airs, uaston iookcu oewiiderca, lint -nmmmwnil fniHiiirr 1mm anil than turned to go to the barn for frosh eggs. "Let mo cro!" cried Amy. clappintr her nnn nf liiti-nita in tlift nvfin. "f haven't found any lien's eggs since I was a little girl. And she ran away, "as if she was ten years old," Mrs. Gaston said, afterward. "Has your help come, mother?" asked Forest, coming in with a pail of water. "Thoro's the nicest sort of a littlo woman nut in tlm linvn .imitilirr lion's ur-irft " . U ta,. VHI aa, aa .. a. .a..,, aav.a v Q (-,'-. . "Why, Forest, it's Miss Walcott! She made tbe colleo ami biscuits fPIn l.ri nnAnml nrnl Amv paniA in AUV UVVt VtVUVM M--va AJh-uaj v liiuu u her apron hold up, her face, of dimpled 1 snow ana roso?, sinning. "Splendulluckr bIio laughed. "I've found thirteen just a baker's doson." Prtfuc 1Ar.L-rt.l nn.1 tlinrt nn.l tlmta fnll A v -at luoavJM Muia siium sasavi mviu tun in love. He couldn't help it, he told his a..17 1i il 1 il moiner, ii Amy v aicoti uau oeen uie lueen of England. "I'll fry them and lay the table, Mrs. Gaston, and then run upstairs and dress Heudio," said Amy. "I havo the whole care of him, mamma's health is so poor and papa so needs her attention of late." Then: "You needn't fry buck wbents for us, Mrs. Gaston; there'll be plenty of breakfast without. But I'll put on a littlo of tho oatmeal for papa, if you plonso. Ho is very fond of it, and it isn't much trouble to cook any time, is it?" "Bless yon! no, child! And the break fast's ready like magic." The biscuits (made by chemistry, Mrs. Gaston said with awe) turned out perfec tion; and tho oatmeal and creamy milk furnished Mr. Walcott was such a satis factory breakfast that ho seemed heart ened up wonderfully at once. Before dinner the stout daughter of a neighbor came into Mrs. Gaston's kitch en, and sot her mind at rest as to the labor to be performed. She was able to make her boarders feel at home and entirely comfortublo, and in return they seemed to tako pains to make themselves exquisitely agreeable. But it was only the ordinary result of good breeding which made the Walcotts so agreeable to the Gastons the con stant unselfishness and gentle considera tion of others which never fails to please tho mof t ur refined. But the Gastons were not unrefined. If Mrs. Gaston occasionally made a gram matical error, it was due greatly to that habit of conversation with uneducated people about her. Her son had a more than ordinary good education, and, with agricultural tastes, a passion for books. He had long exhausted tho better part of the town library, and, like Oliver Twist, was hungry "for more." Mr. Walcott gave his permission bo use the truukf ul of books he had brought, as if they were his own, and sent Amy to display them to him; while Mrs. Walcott gave him her sympathy and admiration equally. "Such a splendid young Saxon!" said she laughing, to her husband. "Just the one for Amy." It was certainly very suggestive of something of this kind that Forest gave np his sea-shore trip, and read, and drove, and played chess with Miss Amy during all the long summer. As I have said, the Gaston's were neither unrefined nor unoducte,l ' ' ; they did lock the liberal culture ! and mousrn im-ruiure. me w.i( a 1 l?i i. mi ' ft I owned to them ft delightful ! )h, which did not end in Amy renovil (- 1 the gloomy parlor with graceful drnil ; i n art JJUUUli), DunuuLion aim KUia picliaV She grew aa dear to Forosfa motW i himself indeed, she always declM she loved hor first; and when two vn.' irl 01 toviuu cuiinuiuiuuwju id marriinr Mrs. Gaston had no prejudice ac M'o the alterations made in the old koaiu4 " the suggestions oi i orest wife. Jt v gave her preference to bamboo and i t w vet in tho furnishing of the new puljn ju and willingly consiguod the black hj '1 cloth to a spare room, and with a p. p tli here, a bay-window thoro, and Lalf-t ' 'li den in roses, tho old farm house ii ' 'i lie ' most picturesque, as well as the hapt, . 'fl si of homes. iiJe m Long before he came to the wej.l,; ni g ftrnther lien, still deep in citv trail,, a-111 V written to inquire "how Sabra liked M'n WolOOttS." lufllK "Exceedinnly sho answered. ill i" that girl has been the blessing of frc life lie Hol Home Like. ' $ "Is this a bar-room?" asked a strapit ; ooi follow in a coon-skin cap and a hut ,ulf nut suit, as he eyod the piles of glJ uaf and glittering bottles. ge, "Certainly, sir; what'll you hij,I. " answered and inquired tho whito-apro, 4 1 attendant. rh "I reckon not," responded the co-jj, aii skin, glancing around suspicion- rh "Whore's the barrels you sit on?" , cU "We keep the barrels in the collar. jii g," "Whore's tho gang, sittin' around h stove and ready to waltz np at the si Id of coin?" ori mi "We don't allow any sitting aroiU here. When a gentleman drinks hchajbc out." fcOtllil "Where's the man with his i. .e gouged out?" demanded coon-skin nT ;ti: whisper. . (U cl "We don't have Bucb parties. Can d anything for yon?" kt cx "Ain't you got any old noses soj 4 11 where?" asked the visitor with a woriin 1 n expression. loi "Xo, wo haven't," responded the 1V iltt keeper firmly. no "Will tho man who tomhawks strlot gors be in directly?" interrogated coii'U skin, after a short pause. m "Don't know any such man. If; jias want anything ask for i'V "But the fellow that shoots the g'.l iio out of vour mouth without Buillititf I I'L poison, where might ho be?" till "Perhaps you had better go a.ilf from here. I think you had better g out." ii "Say thorn words again, pardner. Tlie sounds like it. That's natural." "Get out. or I'll throw you out." ihi Oh. now you're whisperm', strange; Sine it over to me. Club me onoealit twice. Put a bullet through this nisi, lunar. Put a skewer through thato' kidney of mine. You're a shontin' scih Gimme some indement sunrise. Tu to me again. Why didn't you declJn yourself at first, pardner? Why did tji It hold back? Throw me the ten-bark. d o And he poured out an allopathic dr and downed it, paid for it and walked o i A Montana man can't enjoy his whislp ' in a bar-room that does'nt some way lt mind him of home. Albany Argus. . til Tfasuliigton Irving on Mary or Sfor r, land. Sunny Side, June 12, 18G7.K1' Mv Dear Sih: I am infinitely obligM to you for tlio copy of your life of uu Quoen of Scots," which you have had tl kindness to send me. I have road it w intense though painful interest. Indeel when I had once commenced I could i lay it it down until I hail finish it, which I did late last evening. 1 have faithfully and conscientiously v complished a gonerous undertaking, tW'1 vindication of the memory of one of tl loveliest, but most unfortunate of 0 man who, after suffering every wroiJ " and outrage while living, has ber ' basely vilified in history, You have ab s, cleared up some of the dark points c her story, on which malignity had sir I ceeded in casting a shade, and havo sho.,' 1 her as worthy of love as of pity. 'j It is one of the special offices of oi. literature to call up before its fresh at unbiased tribunal the historical questio' of the Old World, to rcjudge its judr monts and reverse decisions on whicf' death and time hod seemed to set a sen Such an office yon have honestly air impartially executed in regard to poo yr i i a " , t t .uury uuu ner persecutors, UUU X am iu!t laiten ii tue world does not prononm. In the meantime I shall look wit. great interest for the volume of Marjt 1. .:!. .t.:i. : . lunula, cu;,, wmi wiiicu yuu proimsa loiiow up tlio biograpuy. Very truly, my dear sir, your oblige friend, Washington Iiivino. Donald McLeod, Esq. Another Good Boy. A Detroit grocer was the other da, hungrily waiting for his clerk to retur from dinner and give him a chance at hi noonduv meal, when a boy came into tli' store with a basket in his hand, and said "1 seed a boy grab up this ere basfc from the door and run, and I after Liu aud made him give it up." "My lad, you are an honest boy.' "Yes, sir." - "And you look like a good boy." "Yes, sir." "And good boys should always be enp conraged. In a box in the bock root' there are eight dozen eggs. You m.lf lane mem noma to your motner anu Keci- i tlie basket. The grocer had been saving those f uays anu weens to rewara some one. i i i rewarding a good boy he also got eiglJf rewarding a good boy be also got eigi .7 dozen bad eggs carried out of the neigbts borhood free of cost, and he chuckled -g littled chuck as he walked homewards. The afternoon waned, night came an! went, and once more the grocer ate bi dinner. 'When he returned lie was pick ing his teeth and wearing a complacent smile. His eye caught a basket of eight dozen eggs as he entered the Btore, ami ne queried: "Been buying some eem?" "Yes; got hold of those from a farmer'! boy, replied the clerk. "E lame boy with a blue cap on?" "Yea." The grocer sat down and examined tk eggs. The shells had been washed clean but they were the same egg that g boy had lugged home the day before. )1L in til 'o