1856.] Kate Osborne. 225 



thoTigli silent, she never once dreamed of sundering her plighted troth to 

 Clinton. No, no ; as to lawyers in general, her father might be right ; 

 but Mr. Henry Clinton was an immaculate exception ! 



AVith Kate's happy face and voice of song, the farmer's ample cottage 

 seemed to him a paradise of joy and gladness. Occasionally, the thought 

 of her mother, whom he had lain to rest in the bosom of Virginia, when 

 Kate was yet too young to understand her loss, would come with s:id- 

 dening influence across his memory, and then he would wish that the 

 loved and lost one were with him to enjoy the happiness and prosperity 

 of his far western home. 



Kate superintended all the domestic affairs of her father's household, 

 yet found abundant time for amusement in the flower garden, and 

 improvement among her books. Her father had made her a birth-day 

 present — Kate was eighteen — of a fine, blooded saddle-horse, with all 

 appointments to match. Mounted on this favorite, she would course 

 widely over the boundless prairies, whose beauty and grandeur her mind 

 instinctively drank in, while from their air, balmy and pure, she inhaled 

 both fragrance and health. With this freedom of movement, and com- 

 mand of her time, Kate was directly * accredited as bearer of despatches ' 

 between the Grove and the Post Office ; but — the truth must be told — 

 she bore many more despatches, both thither and from, than were ever 

 deemed necessary for good farmer Osborne to behold. Unsuspecting old 

 soul ! himself regarding the writing a letter as a punishment rather than 

 a pleasure — as an intolerable bore, to be shunned if possible, rather 

 than as a delight, to be sought whenever practicable — he little ima- 

 gined that his peculiar sentiments, and paramount prejudices, and 

 parental prohibitions, concerning lawyers were all well known, to at least 

 one of that proscribed fraternity, living as far off as the Hudson. 



The month of June was about drawing to a close : its long days were 

 throwing their profusion of sunshine over the rustling com and waving 

 grain-fields of farmer Osborne's wide-spreading domains. The farmer 

 himself, with some three or four sturdy helpers, was 'nooning' in his 

 cool, and airy cottage porch. And as he looked off on the dark green 

 expanse of corn on one hand, and on the swaying acres of wheat on the 

 other, and noticed that the warm breath of summer was spreading over 

 the latter its ripening robe of golden russet, he thankfully considered 

 that the harvest truly was great, and bethought himself, also, that the 

 laborers were few. Dwelling in thought upon the latter item, he turned 

 to Peter and asked if he knew where he could " get another goc4 farm- 

 hand?" 



VOL. I., NO. V. — 15. 



