WHAT HAl'l'FNED WHEN WE WERE YOUNG
1 honrd the bohwhite whistle in the dewy breath of
The bloom was on the abler ant', the tassel on the
I stood with beating heart beside the babbling
To see my lover conic down the glen to keep her
irysi wun me.
I saw her pace, with quiet grace, tho shaded path
. f
And pause to pluck a llower, or hoar the thrush
song.
rtnuifxl li tir.f iirnnrl fuflmr n n ullHnr to 10 sneil.
She came to me with loving trust, my gracious lit-
iiuiu queen.
Above my station, heaven knows, that gentle maiden
KUOU",
For she wua belle and wide beloved, and I a cub mi
known ;
The rich mid great about her thronged, and sough
on bended knee
For love this griicious princess gave with all hei
heart to mo.
So like a startled fawn before my longing eyes she
stood, .
1 trembled as I put my arm about her form divine,
And stammered as in awkward spoeeh I begged hor
to 1ms mine.
'Tis sweet to hoar the pattering rain that lulls a dim
lit dream;
'Tis sweet to h-ar the song of birds, and sweet the
rippling stream;
'Tisswi et Mind the mountain pms to heir the
.south wiad sigh.
More sweet tlmii these and all besides, was the lov
ing, low reply.
The little hand I held in mine held all I had of
To mould ite Iwtter destiny, and soothe to sleep its
strife. . .
'Tis said that nitKels watch o'er men, commissioned
from above;
My angel walked with me on earth and gave to me
her love.
Ah ! dearest wife, my heart is stirrod, my eyes are
dim with tears
1 think upon the loving faith of all thodo by-gone
years,
For now we stand upon the spot, as in that dewey
morn,
With the bloom upon the alder and the tassel on the
corn.
ESTHER TALE.
BY J. WILL. GRAHAM.
From the Portland Telegram.
Esther Yale was but a little more than
a child in years, but a woman's soui
looked out from her clear gray eyes, and
every line of her proud, sweet face
pressed character and refinement;
forehead was broad and low, and
shaded by a mass of golden hair;
fiomnlexion was "delicately fair :"
ex-
her
was
her
her
form was lithe and slender; her step was
like that of a young queen, and the
proud lift of her head and her graceful
movements greatly enhanced her beauty.
Her home was in the little village of
Princeton, on the banks of the Sacra
mento river; but beautiful as was the
scenery arrouud her cottage home, the
place had grown distasteful to her. Her
father had died in her infancy, and her
mother had soon after married again
this time making an unfortunate con
nection, Mr. Winters being as selfish and
obstinate as Mr. Vale had been generous
and affectionate; two children had re
sulted from this marriage, and left
Esther but small room in her mother's
heart. The girl had been carefully edu
cated, however, from the money left by
her father, her mother deciding that
Esther must go for herself at as early an
age as possible, and that teaching would
be & very "genteel" occupation.
And so, -when Esther Valo was seven
teen, the time in which our story opens,
she had finished her education had sur
passed in knowled tho teachers of the
seminary in the neighboring town, and
was ready to enter upon tho task of sup
porting herself. The village of Prince
ton boasted of but one school, and that
was taught by an old pedagogue who had
imparted to Esther the rudiments of her
own education, and it would almost have
been deemed sacrilige to displace him,
to give place to a young girl, so there
was no situation for Esther Vale in her
native place.
One evening in May, Esther put on
hor little white sun bonnet and strolled
along tho shore of the river, evidently
absorbed in the discussion of some im
portant question. The gray shadows
were softly falling, the river rolled by
with a musical song, and the spring air
-was laden with the perfume of the peach
and apple blossoms. The trees in the
orchard a little way back from the river,
looked like spectres in the twilight, as
they stood draped in pink and white. It
was a sci'iie that aroused all the desola
tion of her young soul.
She was suddenly startled by a footfall
behind her, and the next moment she
was joined by a young man, evidently a
farmers son, with a frank, boyish face,
which looked even handsome in the
deepening twilight.
"I've been at your house, Esther," he
said, drawing her hand through his arm,
"and your mother said you were walking
along by the river; so you see I have
overtaken you. What were you so busy
tlrinking about that you did not hear
me I
"I was thinking of my future," replied
Esther, in a slow sad tone; "I have
made up my mind what I shall do. You
know a great deal of our family affairs,
Richard Verny, living as you do
so very near us, and being so
often at our houso, and will under
stand what I am going to say. I am in
the way here." And her tone grew pas
sionate. "I am one too many at home.
My stepfather feels that I am a burden
upon him, and that I take what right
fully belongs to John and Lucy. Mother
is wrapt up in her other children, and
leaves me, her first-born child, to feel
lonely and desolate. I am going away,
to be gone a long time, Richard. I am
going to San Francisco!"
Her tone grew firm and quiet as she
announced her decision.
"You don't know what you say,
Esther," said tho young man, frankly;
"what can have put such an insane freak
into your head? Think of yourself, so
young, so innocent, and so beautiful
exposed to all tho dangers of a great citj !
Your mother would not allow you to go;
and 1, Esther, I couldn't let you go."
The young man's voice trembled, and he
held the girl's hand tightly as he con
tinued: "I love you, Esther. Will you be my
wife?"
Esther did not reply. Her manner
sullicientlv expressed her astonishment
and surprise, but she did not find voice
to speak.
"Oh Esther! can it be that you do not
love me? Ever since I first saw you,
when vou were but a wee child, I have
loved you, and for years I have looked
forward to the time when I might call
you my wife! I can offer you a pleasant
home, and a love that time nor events
will not change; don't tell me that in ail
these years I have loved in vain."
-'It may not bo Richard," said Esther
n(11v. "I have always loved you with a
sisterly affection. I never thought that
your love for me was other
erly. Wo could neither of
in such a marriage."
than
broth
us be
happy
The youug man pleaded in vain. For
a long time he drew such pictures of
what her life might bo as mistress of the
Verney farm and his own loved and hon
ored wife, that the poor girl was tempted
to accept the calm and peaceful life thus
offered to her, and trust to time to awa
ken feelings of wifely love and devotion.
But the temptation soon vanished. Her
own truthfulness and honesty of charac
ter triumphed and she finally said :
"I do not love you enough Richard,
and cannot marry you. Do not ask mo
again, in pity to yourself and mo."
"Tell me why you you don't love me,
Esther,'' said Richard, in a husk' voice.
"What kind of a man could you love,
Esther?"
Esther hesitated a moment before re
plying. "I will toll you," she said at length.
"I have not thought much of those
things Richard ! but every girl expects
at somo period of her life to marry, and,
of course, forms some idea of the man to
whom she is willing to entrust her own
happiness. I could not be happy in the
hum drum life of a farmer's wife, and
witness only a round of milking, churn
ing and dairy work from my marriage
until my death. I have no wish to dis
parage a farmers life. Richard, for thev
are the men who make the nation, they are
the foundation ol all other ousmess, out
I am unfitted for it. My life has been
so hard, so full of hard realities, so un
loved and unloving, that I have dreamed
too much made myself an ideal world
and lived therein."
"And you would cast away my true
and honest love for fashionable society,
Esther?" exclaimed Verney; "You reject
me in the hope of becoming a woman of
the world.'
" You mistake me, Richard. I have
no taste for fashionable society. But I
would marry a man whom I could feel
was my superior, whether he be farmer
or blacksmith, one who makes his mark
in the world, is honored and respected
for his talents and the use he makes of
them. Tho man I marry must have
the power to make me love him as I can
love deeply, strongly, with my whole
g. I want a refined atmosphere
around my married life. My husband
must have a cultivated taste for books
and pictures, for I love them and I be
lieve m a unity of taste between married
people."
They had been walkiug up and down
the river bank, while Esther had told
her lover how different her ideal was
from himself, and they now paused
while Richard replied:
"I understand vou. Esther, and do
not blame you for rejecting an awkward
country boy who has been to full of
sports to improve his opportunities ol
learning. It is not too late yet, I am
ouly twenty now, and if you are not
married to some one else before I can
claim you, you shall yet be my wife.
Remember,' Esther, I shall claim you
yet!"
He pressed her to his heart, kissed her
passionatolv. and then with a choking
6ob he turned and walked away through
the gloom.
Esther returned to her homo auu went
about her usual duties. The next day
she heard that Richard Verney had gone
to college.
The summer months wore away and
were spent by Esther in fruitless at
tempts to procure a situation as teacher,
and in studying. Every day her step
father made her feel more and more that
she was a burden to them, and her weak,
meilicient mother often anxiously in
quired if she had hoard of no situation
y
et that would do. Early in boptomDer,
owever, one of the teachers of the
seminary, where jstner nau uuun
jducated, obtained a situation in a
Frisco school for herself, and a position
as junior teacher for Esther.
The vonnsr irirl immediately entered
u
pon her duties, and in the active life to
which she now accustomed herself, sire
strove to forget the past.
But in tho evening hours, Avnen sue
was alone in her own room for the night,
she would remember with a keen pang,
tho frank, boyish face of Richard Verney
and the strong enduring love he bore
ler, and she wondered how he suc
eeded in his college life. She had not
seen him in the summer, as no pre
ferred to spend his vacation m the
icinity of the college and devote his
time to study, for which ho had sud
denly shown great taste.
The years went on and Esther Vale
had matured into a glorious women.
imn had smiled favorably on her, and
had but increased her bright beauty and
given her additional graces. She had
r
iseu from the position ol junior teaener
to
that of principal, and had no iacK oi
suitors. But not one among them all
came up to her ideal. And so she
gradually relinquished all idea of ever
marrying. She had heard of Richard
Verney, that he had graduated with the
highest honors from Yale College, and
had thereafter watched his onward and
upward course with a proud feeling of
satisfaction. In the girlish days of long
ago, she had never dreamed that her awk
uard coiihlry lover possessed genius and
the gift of eloquence; but her rejection of
him had roused those dormant qualities
and made a man worthy of the admira
tion dealt out to him on every hand.
It was ten years from the evening of
their parting on the banks of the Sacra
mento, and Esther Vale, attired as be-,
come her queenly beauty, was seated in
the well lighted parlor of her residence.
Her under teachers and pupils were in
their own part of tho house, and the mis
tress was alone. She had just been read
ing in one of the daily papers a speech
recently delivered by the Hon. Richard
Verney, and now she was looking into
tho grate with a thoughtful face. The
door bell suddenly rung, and a moment
after a servant brought to Miss Vale a
card bearing the name of Richard I rcrncy.
Esther's cheek flushed and paled as
she read the name, and her voice fal
tered as she commanded the servant to
admit the gentleman. To conceal her
agitation she turned down the gas to
a
twilight, and awaited his entrance. The
servant speedily ushered the visitor into
the room, but, to Esther's surprise, a
fairy-like being hung to his arm.
Esther had never contemplated the
possibility of her old lover's marrying,
but now a keon pang shot through
her heart as she thought he had come to
introduce his wife to her his first love.
As soon as the mist had cleared away
from her vision, she saw a tall and hand
some man regarding her with a puzzled
expression. His face was bronzed and
bearded, a graceful mustache and impe
rial lent dignity to his massive . chin.
His form was commanding, and alto
gether he was distinguished in appear
ance. His eyes were those same truth
ful eyes that she so well remembered,
their last moeting on the bank of the
famed river quickly passed before her
mental vision.
"Miss Yale," he said, bowing.
Esther bowed.
"I have brought my ward to you to bo
educated," he said, all unconscious that
his voice and words set Esther's heart to
throbbing loudly. "She has been sadly
neglected, and if you will take charge of
her, and make as good a scholar as most
of your pupils are, you will confer a
great favor. Her name is Minnie Lake.
Her father was one of my dearest
friends, and I am the guardian of his
child."
It was plain to Esther from his manner
that he did not suspect her identity with
the Esther he had known and loved in
tho long ago.
As soon as she remembered that it was
years since her mother had died and that
her step-father had soon after removed
from Princeton, she readily understood
the cause of his ignorance. She grace
fully advanced and received her new
pupil, soon placed hor at her ease, learn
ed that Mr. Verney had been recom
mended to her by the parents of one of
her pupils, and finally led the girl to die
apartments she was to occupy and intro
duced her to the group of girls. She
then returned to the parlor with a heavy
heart, for the interest manifested by Mr.
Verney in his ward caused her to think
that he was educating her for his own
wife.
On entering the parlor she found that
her guest had turned on the gas and was
contemplating the pictures that graced
her walls. He turned abruptly at her
entranco and regarded her in silence.
She stood full in the light of tho chaud
alier, her loose curls thrown back from
her beautiful face, the color coming and
going in her red cheeks, and hor gray
eyes lustrous with the excitement his
coming had caused, and as ho looked at
her he gave a quick gas), and exclaimed
as he opened his arms:
"Esther!"
Esther sprang to his embrace and he
rained kisses and tears on her upturned
face.
"Found at last!" he said; "I have
looked for you a long time, Esther, have
you waited for me?"
"I am Esther Vide still!" she whis
pered. Esther Yale found in her old lover the
ideal she had once pictured to him, and
the following Christmas she closed her
school, bade adieu to her attached pupils
and became tho wife of the Hon. Rich
ard Verney. And in the long, golden
years that 'followed they had reason to
look back with thankfulness upon the
truly fortunato day that again brought
them together. And their love was none
the less because they waited so long for
each other.
A Sorry Feature. -Ono of the most
discouraging features of our day is the
aversion of American boys and girls to
hard work; but this aversion is by no
means confined to this side of the Atlan
tic. In a late oilicial communication to
the French Government, it is asserted
that the pupils of the elementary schools
of Paris are little "bureau-crats," whose
only fear on reaching the end of their
course is that the- shall have to become
workmen ami workwomen. Tho boys
all want to be clerks and the girls shop
women, thus glutting the market for
these departments. The disposition of
the youth of the present day, together
with their tendency in almost every
country, as well as America, to desert
rural homes for life in the city, is one of
the most unfavorable signs of the times.
"My lovey-dovey," he said, "I posi
tively cannot give you a diamond for an
engagement ring." "Why, my own
popsey-wopsey ?" "Because," he wick
edly replied, ""everybody will say I'm
stony-hearted."
The Wife's Firt Lotc.
Adelhoid, hearing her husband's ap
proaching footstejjs, hastened to extin
guish the taper that was burning on the
table, and adjusting her collarette and
coiffure before the inirrior, unlocked the
door of the boudoir and went forth to
meet him with an unembarrassed air.
"Comnieuti ma belle Hermite, toujour
au boudoir! I was looking for you at
the Tuileries this very fine day. Truly,
my incomparable, I shall begin to grow
jealous of the crimson fauteuli, whoso
arms encircle you so onen. --is ue
Morier playfully spoke thus, he drew his
Adelhoid affectionately toward him, but
she complained of a slight indisposition,
averted face, and withdrawing herself
from his clasp, pointed his attention to
some passing object in the street and
beiran to talk of their projected tour to
O j
Fonlainebleaus.
Adelhoid Eichrodt was a young and
lovely Berliueso,who, at the age of sev
enteen, had boon introduced to the
Count de Morier, a Frenchman of family
and distinction. Ho became deeply en
amored of her beauty and simplicity
The offer of his hand was graciously ac-
.onred. and he brou edit her in triumph
to his hotel in the Faubourg St. German,
! where, notwithstanding the little dissen
sions that a ditieronce in national tastes
and prejudice is apt to occasion, they
lived in tho very plenitude and perfec
tion of conjugal uncord.
They had been married about a year
and a half, when De Morier fancied he
observed an alteration in his wife's hab
its and manners. It appeared to him
that his adored Adelhoid was becoming
less frank and confiding toward him; she
was reserved, distrait. There was an air
of mystery in hor proceedings. In fact,
it was evident that sho had some secret
with which she was sedulously desirous
he should remain unacquainted. He
was constantly in the habit of finding
scraps of paper scattered about the
floor, for tho appearance of which she
accounted in various unsatisfactory
ways. He more the once surprised hor
in whispered confidence with old
Karl, a Gorman domestic, who, having
lived in her father's service since the
period of Adelheid's infancy, had, on
the event of her marriage, requested to
be allowed to accompany his young mis
tress to Pans. On his approach they
would suddenly separate, and, as it
seemed to him, in something of con
fusion. He had also on one occasion
been exceedingly perplexed and morti
fied by overhearing two ladies in society,
after extolling the undeniable beauty
and grace and affability of Madame de
Morier, make an exception to her preju
dice (the "particulars" did not roach his
ear), which was immediately followed
by an exclamation of "Mon Dieu! ce no
pits possible une bete, un nionsier
affreuse, degoutaute." He was not quite
sure that tho epithets were applied to
his wife, but he more than suspected
they were. It was not long after that,
on entering her apartments unexpectedly
he saw her rush to the window and dash
something to the ground. "Bah, bah!
Adelheid, why surely I have entered
Houbigaut's fabrique, it mistake for my
own hotel? 'Essence de Millefleurs!
Attar du Rose!' What are all these
scents that are scattering about the room?
You will suffocate me with
your many
my aversion
sweets. I have told you of
to strong perf umes."
The suspicious husband
served madame, in one of
having ob-
her
mystic
meetings with the old steward, oonruie a
large purse of gold to his possession,
hastily quitted the room, full of vague
apprehonsions and surmises, and fully
resolved to tako an early opportunity of
satisfying himself in what manner his
wife was in the habit of employing tho
intervals of his absence from home,
which, owing to a pending lawsuit, had
become of late very frequent and pro
tracted. Yet he loved and respected her
too much to distress her with any open
and direct inquiries upon the subject of
her evident confusion.
Accordingly, upon the following da',
he took occasion during breakfast to
signify that he was engaged out on busi
ness for the whole of the day, and should
probably be detained until the evening
of tho morrow. Not long after the usual
hour of dinner he made his appearance.
The old steward opened the door.
"What, Karl! as I left you in the
morning, I find you in the evening tou
iours la pipe ! Always smoking ! Is
madame at home V
on. monsieur
non." "No, I think you arc mistaken,
Karl; I am nearly positive that I saw hor
close the jalousie of her boudoir this mo
ment, in a white dressing gown. Is sho
alone?" "Yes. sir; alone, sir! To bo
sure she's alone at least, that is I will
tell her you are come, and " "I
thank you', I can find her myself." "Why
no; that is just if you please, sir, to al
low me may be, sho might be engaged,
or " "Engaged! how, what, with
whom?" "Oh! with nobody, sir."
"Let me pass, old man; what does this
mean?" "Nothing, sir; but if you
would only wait a moment, that I may
tell my lady, sir. She will be so fright
ened you 'will be so angry." "Angry!
yes, I am angry at your unaccountable
detention of me."
The count's brain "'immediately took
fire. Imagination mastered reason; yet
he adopted a reasonable course in reso
Intel v shaking the old man from his hold
and striding swiftly and silently along
tho range of rooms that led to his Adel
heid's apartment. In a state of consid
erable excitement, he pushed open the
boudoir door with vehemence, but stood
transfixed on the threshold at the spec
tacle that presented itself to his view.
His young and lovely wife was reclin
ing listlessly in the large arm chair, her
foot reposing on a low footstool, her el
bow resting on a small table by her side,
while her delicate hand sustained an
enormous chibouque, from which she
pulled clouds of fragrant incense!
His astonishment soon relaxed into im
moderate laughter. "So, so, my fair
Musselmau, I have caught yon at last
now the secret's out, and tho mystery,
like most other mysteries, ends in smoke.
That cunning old Karl, too, to conspire
against me. Truth, Adelheid, I don't
kuow that I ever saw you look more
gracefully charming more femininely
lovely. 2say,don't pout and blush and cry
and throw down that most magnificent
chibouque so disdainfully; I'll buy it of
you, mignon; will you sell it to me, eh?"
and throwing his arms around her, he
hid her tears of mortification in his
bosom. "And, now, my sweet wife," re
sumed De Morier, as Adelheid released
herself from his embrace, "we will put
this toy away, if you please, until we go
back to Berlin. Custom here is every
thing. Now, the Parisian ladies are not
yet accustomed that is, it is not yet the
fashion here in short, my love, the
Parisian ladies don't smoke."
THE NOIlTinYEST.
ISojv It IYuh lrvcuteil From sHU'insr
T mic i a w n 3" f r n C(1 Fishery.
Mr. Webster gave to the Tyler Admin
istration nil of the dignity and character
which it possessed, not only directing its
diplomacy through the department of
State, but counseling the other heads of
departments. He wrote Secretary For
ward's report on tho currency, and other
State papers, besides serving as a balance
wheel to regulate tho movements of the
ardent dishing and the fiery Wise. Mr.
Webster's great work, says the Atlantic
for October, however, was the nego
tiation of tho
TREATY OF WASHINGTON
With Lord Ashburton, which ho consid
ered as ono of the greatest achivoments
of his life. It settled a vexatious
quarrel over our nortueastern ooun
dary, it overthrew the British claim to
exerciso the right of search, and ii estab:
lished the right of property in slaves on
an American vessel driven by stress of
weather into a British port. But tho
treaty did not settle tiie exasperating
controversy over the fisheries on the
North American coast, or tho disputed
northwestern boundary. Indeed, Mr.
Wobster was at one time disposed to cede
tho valley of the Columbia river for the
free right to fish on the British colonial
coasts of tho North Atlantic, Governor
Simpson, of tho Hudson's Bay Compa
ny, having
i:ei'i:csented okegon as worthless
For agricultural purposes, and only
valuable for its furs. Just then Dr.
Whitman arrived at Washington, dressed
in "Mackinaw blanket coat and buckskin
leggings in which he had crossed Uhe
Rocky Mountains, to plead tho retention
of Oregon. '"But you are too late, Doc
tor," said Mr. Webster, "for we are
about to trade off Oregon for the cod
fisheries." The Doctor soon convinced
the Secretary of State, however, that the
valley of the Columbia was of great
value, and it was retained, while the
settlement of the fisheries question was
left to a succeeding generation. Lord
Ashburton, retaining his business habits
brought to Washington not only a
diplomatic suite, but a butler and a cook,
and rented the spacious mansion of
MATTHEW ST. CLAIR CLARKE
Ne.tr that of Mr. Webster. Much of the
preliminary negotiation was carried on
at tho dinner tables of the contracting
parties, and Congressional guests were
alike charmed by the hospitable atten
tions of the "fine old English gentle
man" and the Yankee Secretary of State.
Lord Ashburton offered his guests tho
cream of culinary perfection and the
gastronomic ait, with the rarest wines,
while at Mr. Wobstei"s table American
delicacies were served in American style.
Maine salmon, Massachusetts mackerel,
New Jersey oysters, Florida shad, Ken
tucky beef, West Virginia mutton, Illi
nois prairie chickens, Virginia terrapin,
Maryland crabs, Delaware canvas-back
ducks, and South Carolina lice birds
wore cooked by Monica, and served in a
style that made
THE RANKER-DIPLOMAT
Admit their superiority to the po-tages,
sauces, entremets, ragouts, and desserts
of his Parisian white-capped manipula
tor of casseroles. Mr. Webster's papers
in the negotiations with Lord Ashburton
are models of skillful reasoning, and his
letter on impressment is regarded as a
diplomatic masterpiece. He not only
had to contend with a practical and ac
complished diplomat, but to manage a
wayward President, and unfriendly
Senate, a hostile House of Representa
tives, and the State Governments of
Massachusetts and Maine. When a lead
ing merchant congratulated him on the
result, he thanked him, and said:
"There have been periods when I could
have kindled a war, but, sir, I remem
bered that I was negotiating for a Chris
tian country, with a Christian country,
and that we were all living in the nine
teenth century of the Christian era. My
duty, sir, was clear and plain."
o
AVhon the old sailor came homo from a
whaling voyage, he saw at once what
ailed the minister's preaching. "The
minister's smart enough, and he
says a great many good things, but the
sermon don't have any harpoon in it."
The farmer means the same thing
when he said of the clergyman: "He's a
good man, but he will rake with the teeth
up."
A man who was suffering from a boil
on his face pettishly exclaimed: "I wish
I knew the best place for a boil." To
which his little girl responded: "Why,
papa, tho tea-kettle is the best place to
have a boil."
s