The Daily Reporter. D. C., IRELAND 4 CO. PUBLISHERS. McMinnville, Or. • - Feb. 11, 1887 THE HALF CASTE. ANQLD GOVERNESS’S TALE- FOL'NDEO ON FACT. WV Miss MUIOCK. Of ZTTla the lieutenant Hardly ever took any notice at all, and she seemed to keep out of his w ay as much as pos sible. When he left us in the evening —and there'wM'always a tolerabte con fusion at that time, his two sisters wanting to see him off by the train, I which he never by any chance allowed —then came the quietest and pleasant est half-h'ourrtf the lay. The Misses Le Poor disliked, twilight rambles, so Zillah and I always set off together; though oftentimes we parted company, and I waa, left sitting on the beach, while she strolled on to a pleasant walk she said she bad found—a deserted house whose grounds sloped down to the vety shore:’ Rut I, not very strong then, and weighed dowp bv many anx ious th6ughts. loved better to sit and stupify myself with the murmur of the sea—a" habit not good for me, but pleas- ant. No fCAr bad I Jf Zillah’s losing herself, of comiflg'to' any harm; and the girl seemed so happy in her solitary rambles that 1 hail n6t the desire to stop them, knowing how a habit of self dependence is the greatest comfort to a wotnau, especially to one in her deso late position. But as the frost of her nature broke up, and her dullness was melting away, Zillah seemed more self con taiuqd^sq to speak; more reserved, and relylrtg on' her own thoughts for occupation and amusement; still, she had never tieen so attentive or affec tionate to tup. It was a ciirious and interesting study—this young mind’s unfolding; though 1 shame to say thut iust then 1 did not think about Zillah as much as I ' ought to have done. Often I re-' proached myself for this afterward; but i as things have turned out, I now feel, with a quiqt. self-compassion, that my error was pardonable,' I min'd one evhhitig—that “I mind" is not quite English, but I learned it with , other phrases^ in my young days, so let I it stand!,—J. miud.one evening, that, be ing nrtt quite in k triood for solitude, I went out walking with Zillah. 'Some how the murmur of the sea wearied me; ' I turned through the village and along ’ the high road—almost like an English I road, so beautiful with overhanging j trees. I did not Wk much and Zillah' walked quite silently, which indeed was nothing new. I think I see her now, floating, along With her'thin but lithe figure ump. clinging dress—tile verf aiitipbdes of fashion ->■ nothing about her that would really be called beautiful except |ier great eyes, which I were perfect oceans of light. When we came to a gateway—which, like most things in poor Ireland, seemed either broken '(town or left half finished—she looked round rather anxiously. “Do yqu know' this place, iny dear?” ; “It is lin old fnaAsion—where I often like to stroll.” “What! have you lieen there alone?” “Of cohrse I have,” said she quickly and slightly coloring. “You knew it; or I thought you did.” She appeared apprehensive of reproof, which struck me as odd. in so inoffens ive a matter as her adventuring a soli tary stroll; especially as 1 was anything but a cross governess. To please and reassure her I said: “Well, never mind, my dear, you shall show me your I pet paradise, It will be quite a treat. “I don’t think so. Miss Pryor. It’s ! all weeds and disorder, and yon can’t : endure that. And the ground is very wet here and there. I am sure you'll not like it at all. “Oh, but 1 will, if only to please you, Zillah,” said I. determined to be at once flrm and pacific; for I saw a trace of her old sullen look troubling my pu pil’s face, as if she did not like her haunts to bo intruded upon even by me. ( However, she made no more opeu op- 1 position, and wn entered the grounds, | which were almost English in their as pect, except in one thing—their entire 1 desolation. The house might not have • been inhabit J. or the grounds culti vated, for I went • ve.irs. The rose-beds grew w.ld—great patches of white clo ver overspr ad th« lawn and flower- garden. and all the underwood was one mass of tall fern. 1 had not gone far tn and out of the tangled walks of the shrubbery when I found that Zillah hail slipped away. I saw iter at a distance standing under a tall Tortuga! laurel, seemingly doing nothing but meditate—a new occupa tion for her; so I left her to it, and pen etrated deeper into what myoid French governess would have called the 'joctgje. My feet sunk deep in fern amidst which I plunged, trying to gather a great arm ful of that and of wild flowers; for I had, and have still the babyish propen sity of wishing to pluck everything I see, and never can conquer the delight 1 feel in losing myself in a wilderness of vegetation. In that oblivion or jiliild-ttkn content I was happy—hap pier than I had been for a long time, l’he ferns nearly aid me, when I heard a stirring til the buslies' behind, which I took ter (untie harmless ‘animal which I had disturbed. However, hares, foxes, ii even squirrels io not usually give a ’.otid “ AhdmT” :n the perfectly human tone which followed. At first 1 had ter rors of some ktriy keeper, who might possibly shoot me for a rabbit or a poacher, till I recollected that I was uot m England but in Ireland, where unjust lundlords are regarded as the more convenient game. "Ahem!” reiterated the mysterious voice—“ahem! Is it yon, my angel?” Never could auy poor governess be more thoroughly dum founded! Oi’ Course the adjective was not meant for me. Impossible! Still it was unpleas ant to come into such near contact with a case of philAnderifig. ‘ Mete philan dering it must be, for thia was no hon est vtllage-tryste, the man's accent be ing relined and quite English. Besides, little as I knew of love-making, it struck me that iu any serious utacti- ment people would never address one another by the silly title of "my angel.” It must be some idle flirtation going on among the strolling visitants whom we occasionally met on the beach, and wiio had probably wandered up through the gate which led to these grounds. To put an end to any more confiden tial disclosures from tins unseen gen tleman,'! likewise said “Ahem!” as loudly as I could, and immediately called aloud for Zillah. Whereupon there was M hasty rustling in the bush es, which, however soon subsided, and the place became quite still again. without mt ever r- havincd^iught sight a oi ctie ----------------- very compnmerTniry ____ .. . . TftfflTv luuai who had in this extemjane manner, ad dressed me as his “angel.” “Certain ly,” I thought, “I must have been as invisible to him as he to me, or he never would have dbhe it.” ' Zillah joined me quickly. She looked half frightened, and said she feared something was the matter—“had I seen anythlngr’ At first I was on the point of telling her all, but someho# it how1 appeared a rather ridiculous position for a gov erness to be placed in—to have shouted for assistance en being addressed by mistake by an unknown admirer; and besides I did'not wish to put any love notions into the girl’s head; they come quite soon enough of their own accord. So 1 merely said I had been startled by hearing voices in the bushes -that per haps we were intruders on the domain, and had better not stay longer. “Yet the place seems retired and des olate,” said I. as we walked down the tangled walk that led to the beach, Zil lah evidently unwilling to go home. “Do you ever meet any strangers about here’”’ 1 She answered briefly, “No.” “Did you see any one to-night?” “Yes, —given with a slight hesita tion. “ Who was it?” “A man, I think—at a distance. “Did he speak to you?” “No.’ I give these questions and answers verbatim, to show—what I believed then, and believe now, that so far as I questioned, Zillah answered me truth fully. I should be sorry to think that eit her at that time or any other she had told me a willful lie. But this adventure left an uncomtort- iible sensation on my mind—not from imy doubt of Zillah herself, for she ap- p ared still too much of a child, and too a >l.ward and unattractive, < r me to i er eB .' tging in love-affairs <?’in- 3i»y**Tyny^bT'TOTnuiai Maj b uvqi ojota joj iou jo jq8is oso{ idAsu ppioqs j pm? ‘Auedcaoo ai syo-tpi iqihnM) mo aipH pjnoqs oaa ivqi poAiJ-jnoj h X t ? w [T? [ ‘S uiuoao siqi joijv k6sa|oq-)JOAOX '®<no9 0) anil) atuos joj ssiMJsqjo io auipiop i |_,____________ v < v M re • «.• < tattAKi |'*v( “Rill iota * v.VWV». tier again atl tne aTlerniM.fr. T>r lieu a very simple and short-sighted govern tenant Augustus kept me in the parlor ess after all. on one excuse or another until I waa We had been at Holy wood a whole heartily vexed at him and myself. month, and 1 began to wonder when we When I went up stairs to put on my should return home, us Zillah was quite bonnet—we were all going to v ilk that well, indeed more blooming than I had evening—Zillah slipped away almost aa ever seen her. Mr Le l’oer made him soon as I appeared. I noticed that alls self visible once or twice, at rare inter was quite coni|Mised now, and had re vals; he had always “business in Dub sumed her nstial manner I called after lin,” or “country visits to pay.” His her to tell the other two girls to get son acted as regent in his absence—I ready, thinking it wisest to make no ra always supposed by his desire; never marks concerning her excitement of the theless I often noticed that these two I morning. lights of the family never shone togeth I never take long in dressing, and er, and the father’s expected arrival was soon went down, rather quietly par-1 ' the signal of Mr. Augustus' non-ap- haps; for I was meditating with pain | I>earance \/\<k «w, w* some */, wAkwwm I zY tl.A for days. Nor zA did the; on how much this passionate child Sirls ever allude to their brother. I ■. might yet have to suffer in the world. wight family quarrels might perhaps I believe 1 have rather a light step; at have lessoned them in this, and so was all events 1 was once told so. Certainly not surprised. I did not intend to come into the parlor It was certainly a relief to all when 1 stealthily or pryingly; in fact. 1 never the head of the family again departed. | thought of its occupants at all. On en We usually kept his letters for him, he [ tering, what was my amazement to see not being very anxious about them; for standing at the window—Lieutenant which indifference, as I afterward co«n- Augustus and—my Zillah! He waseoi- Srehended, he might hate good reasons. bracing—in plain English, kissing her. >nce there came a letter—4 knew from Now. 1 am no prude in such things; whom—marked in the ebrher, sTf ab 1 have oftentimes known a hannleee * sent to lie opened by Mtss Pryor.”— father-like or brother-like embrace be Greatly surprised wqur I to And it con tween two, who, quite certain of each tained a bank-note, apparently hurried other’s feelings, gave and received the same in all frank atTAetfou aiut simplic ly inclosed, with this brierline: “If Zillah requites more let me know ity. But gene bah v I am very partiodlBr; at once. She must have11 every luxury more so than most women. I often used to think that, were I a man, I needful for her health. A. S." The initials certainly meant his name would wish, m the sweet day of my be —Andrew Sutherland—nor could I be trothal, to know for certain that mine mistaken in the hand. Yet it seemed was the first lover’s kiss ever pressed very odd, as I had no idea that he held on the deal lips which 1 then sealed as over her more than a nominal guardian wholly mv own! To be Continued. ship, just undertaken out of cnarity to the orphan, and from his having slight ly known her father. At least so Mr. Advertisments, etc., intended for Le Poer told me. The only solution I publication in The Weekly Reporter could And for his sending Zillah the must be handed in Tuesday morning. money was the simple one of its being a gift, springing from the generosity of ' We cannot in future deviate from thia a heart whose goodness I knew but too , rule. well. However, to be quite sure, I called SEVENTH ANNUAL Caroline into counsel; thinking, silly as she was, she might know something of the matter. But she only tittered, look ed mysteriously important, and would speak clearly on no point, except '‘that we hail a perfect right to use the money —pa always did; and that she wanted a new bonnet very badly indeed." A day or two after, Mr. Le Poer, re turning unexpectedly, took the note in to his own possession, saying, smiling ly, “that it waa ail right;” and I heard no more. But if I had not been the very sim plest woman in the world I should cer tainly have suspected that things were not “all right.” Nevertheless, I do not now Wonder at my blindness. How could 1 think otherwise than well of a man whom I innocently supposed to be a friend of Mr. Suti-erland? ’'Zillah, my dear, do not look so dis appointed. There is uo help for it.— Your uncle told me before he left us that we must go home next week.” So said F one day, trying to say it gently, and not marveling that the girl, was unhappy at the near prospect of I i Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday, returning to her old miserable fife. It' February 22d. 23d and 24th, was a future so bitter that I almost [ 1887. blamed myself for not having urged oar I longer stay. Still human nature is weak and I did so thirst for home—my LIST OF PRIZES. own home. But it was hard'that my There will be prizes given on the following pleasure should be the poor child’s minied exhibits: pain. 1st nnd 2d prize for best sud 2d best ex “Don’t cry, my love,” I went on, see- j hibit of Kensington painting. ing her eyes brimming, and the color | 1st and 2d prize, for liest and 2d tient ex coming aiid going in her face:—strange hibit of Kensington embroidery. changes which latterly, on the most! 1st and 2<i prize, for best and *2d bent ex trifling occasion#, had disturbed the ap hibit of outline work by a child under 14 parent stolidity of her countenance.— years of age. '‘Don’t tie unhappy; things may tie ! 1st and 2d ia-st, for beat and 2d beat ex smoother now: and I am sure your cons- ' hibit of work of any kind by a boy under 14 ins lie have better and kinder to you , years of age. than they did; even the lieutenant is | Int and 2d prize, for tient and 2d bent ex hibit of crayon work. very civil to you.” There will also be a prize given for the A sparkle, which was either pleasure heaviest, lighten! and prêt I lent baby under 1 or pride, flashed from the girl’s eyes, I year of age. anil then they drooped, unable to meet Following inn lint of prizw offered: Forth# mine. prettiest baby, gold necklnce; lightent and “Be content, dear child; all may be heaviest baby under one year of sge, each s happier for you than you expect. You gold ring; outline work by a child under must write to me regularly—you can fourteen yen«, first prize, ear rings, second write pretty well now, you know; you prize, mrnp book; Kensington < mbioidery, must tell me all that hap|>ens to you firnt prize, napkin' ring, ntcond prize, box pnper; kensington painting, first and remember .lint in everything you writing prize, manicure set, necoud priz<-, bracket: can trust ine entirely ” work, finit prize, paper holder, sere nd Here I was astonished by Zillah's crayon prize, pitcher; boy’s work, first prize, pajier casting herself at my knees as I sat, holder, second prize, inkstand. and bursting into a storm of tears. of I'lrcnien Tiivada) ■!- Anxiously I asked tier what was the teraoon. matter. “ Noth i ng—everyth ing! I am so haj>- Doom will b<- open nr 7 o’rfock, py—so wretched! Ah! what tnust I p. m. dolli, «luring tli<‘ do?” Fair. These words bubbled up brokenly —All are invited to Attend— from her lips, but just at that unlucky moment her three cousins came in. She Admission 25 Cents. sprang up like a frightened deer, and By Order of C ommittee . was ofl to her own room. 1 did.not see FIREMAN’S FAIR Garrison Opera House,