OEC.  2 
THE  RURAL  NEW-YORKER 
36S 
TH’  OWD  WOODEN  PLOW. 
Dp  by  th*  Blakp  Tncvfl'o’JIorrldKO.  not  a  long  time  ago. 
Them  lived  an  old  chap  wi*  an  old  wig  o’  tow. 
Hie  name  wor  Tom  Morrle,  and  I’ll  toll  ye  how 
He  made  a  discourse  on  an  old  wooden  plow. 
Gee  ho  Dobbin,  gee  ho  Dobbin, 
Oee  ho  Dobbin,  geo  up  and  goo  wo. 
Twor  the  tenth  of  October,  and  the  oats  wor  Just  ripe. 
On  the  settle  he  sot,  and  he  rmoked  his  long  pipe ; 
And  he  thought  a  long  time  about  this  thing  and  that, 
Ahd  said,  “  Tommy,  sit  down,  and  I'll  tell  you  what’s 
what." 
Gee  ho  Dobbin,  Ac. 
"  These  are  terrible  times,  lad :  I  prithee  draw  nigh, 
And  ru  give  thee  a  wrinkle  or  two  ere  I  die ; 
I  can’t  stand  it  much  longer,  it  shortens  my  breath. 
These  new-fangled  notions  will  soon  bo  my  death. 
One  ho  Dobbin,  Ac. 
“  They’re  going  too  fast,  lad,  I  tell  thee,  a  deal : 
There’s  I.,ord  Talbot,  o’  Ingeetro,  and  Ralph  Hneyd,  o’ 
Kecle, 
And  Bandon,  and  UiiUer,  and  Mainwaring,  and  Bill- 
Lord  1  the  stuir  they've  been  talking— it  makes  me 
riuit.n  ill. 
Gee  ho  Dobbin,  As. 
"  Wi’  their  bones  and  their  acids,  their  drills  and 
gnbanner. 
Thy  grandfather,  Tom,  never  farmed  i’  tliat  manner; 
He’d  ha’  stared  hard  enough  if  he’d  heard  what  they 
say 
About  boUlng  o’  oil  cakes  and  chopping  o’  hay. 
Gee  ho  Dobbin,  Ac. 
"Then  Boughings  a  thing  Jis.  in  course,  they  must 
alter. 
So  they  go  a  moa's  depth  for  to  get  at  th'  top  w.atcr, 
And  they  scoop  out  the  dirt  wi’  a  thing  like  ii  epoon. 
And  for  tUos— they’d  be  uoingo’  baecyriplpe.s  soon. 
Goo  ho  Dobbin,  Ac. 
"  Then  they  prate  o’  their  cavrotfl,  and  mangels,  and 
slch- 
(As  If  growin’  o’  earrota  would  maU’  a  mon  rich)— 
Of  hoeing  o’  turmits  and  cleaning  o’  yallows— 
Stuff  and  nonsense !— and  growing  of  wheat  wtlhoxit 
fallows. 
Oee  ho  Dobbin,  Ac. 
"  Why,  it  makes  me  to  laugh ;  without  fallows,  in¬ 
deed  ! 
I  think  they  mun  ha’  a  soft  place  in  tholr  ycd. 
And  what  can  ye  think  they’ve  been  doing  Just  now? 
Why,  they’ve  got  up  a  laugh  at  an  old  wooden  plow  ' 
Qeo  ho  Dobbin,  Ao. 
"  .Vy  an  old  wooden  plow ;  an'l  they  say,  to  bo  sure. 
As  the  wide-awake  farmers  mun  see  ’em  no  more ; 
They  mun  all  be  of  iron,  and  wood  thnro’s  no  trade 
for; 
Why  what  do  fool*  tninken  an  ash  tree  wore  made  for? 
Geo  ho  Dolihin,  Ac. 
“  Talk  o’  plows  made  o'  iron  '.  why  th’  next  thing  they 
'U  do 
As  sure  as  you  live,  they’ll  be  painting  them  blun. 
Then  they’ve  two  tits  abreast,  as  they  call  a  gee  ho, 
They  may  call  long  enough,  Imt  it  never  can  go. 
Oee  ho  Dobbin,  Ac. 
“  No !  gl’e  me  a  good  wooden  plow  as  is  strong. 
And  a  good  pair  o'  big  wheels  to  help  it  along. 
And  four  long-tailed  tits,  a  mon,  and  a  lad. 
And  a  good  steady  pace,  and  It  shauner,  be  dad. 
Oee  ho  fJobbln,  Ac. 
"  Then  Tommy,  my  lad,  never  heed  what  they  say, 
But  get  on  still,  T  thy  feyther’s  owd  way. 
They  bring  all  their  hogs  to  line  markets,  I  know. 
But  stiok,  while  thee  lives,  to  th’  owd  wooden  plow." 
Gee  ho  Dobbin,  Ao, 
(Hjf  Stor!)-®fllfr, 
A  MAN  WHO  LOST  HIS  NAME. 
[Continued  from  page  350.J 
In  Norway  the  Indies  dres.s  with  the  Innocent 
purpose  of  protecting  theimwlve.s  against  the 
weather.  If  this  purpose  la  still  remotely  present 
In  the  toilets  of  Amerlcaa  women  of  to-day,  it  la, 
at  all  events,  sumclently  dt-igul.seil  to  challenge 
der.ectlon,  very  much  like  a  primitive  Sanscrit  root 
In  Ita  Froncli  an'l  English  deilvativcs.  This  was 
the  reflecil'iil^'IUch  wa.s  uppermost  in  Ilairdan’s 
mind  ii-s  Edith,  ravishing  to  behohl  In  the  airy 
grace  of  her  fragrant  morning  toilet,  at  the  ap¬ 
pointed  time  took  her  seat  at  his  side  before  the 
piano.  Her  pre-aenco  seemed  so  Intense,  so  all- 
abivorblDg,  that  It  left  no  thought  for  the  music. 
A  woman,  with  all  the  spiritual  my.sterlea  which 
that  name  ImpUes,  had  always  appeared  to  him 
rather  a  c-omposite  iihenomonon,  even  apart  from 
those  varied  accessories  of  dress  in  which,  .as  by 
an  inevitable  analogy,  she  sees  fit  to  express  the 
Inner  multiformity  of  her  being.  Nevertholes.s, 
this  former  conception  of  his,  when  compared  to 
that  wonderful  complexity  of  ethereal  llno.i,  col¬ 
ors,  tints  and  half-tints  which  go  to  make  up  the 
modern  New  York  girl,  seemed  ^lexpresaibly  sim¬ 
ple,  almost  what  plain  arithmetic  mii-st  rtpiu-ar  to 
a  man  who  has  mastered  ealculus. 
Edith  liad  opened  one  of  those  small  red-cov¬ 
ered  volumes  of  Chopin  where  the  ricli,  wondrous 
melodies  lie  pcaiiofully  folded  up  like  strange 
flower-s  in  a  herbarium.  She  began  to  play  the 
fayitasla  hiiproinpi'i,  which  ought  to  be  dashed 
oft  at  H  single  "  heat,"  wlio-so  Jiasslouato  Impulse 
hurries  it  on  breathlessly  toward  Its  abrupt ybrnfe. 
But  Edith  tolled  considerably  with  her  tlngorlng, 
and  blurred  the  keen  edges  of  each  awut  phrase 
by  her  Indistinct  articulation.  .And  slUl  there  was 
a  sufllclently  ardent  Intention  In  her  jilay  to  save 
it  from  being  a  failure.  Sho  made  a  gesture  of 
dtsgu-st  when  sho  had  llulshed,  shut  the  book,  and 
let  her  hands  drop  crosswise  In  her  lap. 
“  I  only  wanted  to  give  you  a  proof  of  my  Inear 
paelty,"  slio  said,  tiu-nlng  her  large  luminous  gaze 
upon  her  instructor,  “  in  order  to  make  you  duly 
t 
■ 
appreciate  what  you  have  undertaken.  Now,  tell 
me  truly  and  honestly,  are  you  not  discouraged  ?’’ 
“  Not  by  any  tucsh.s,’’  replied  he,  while  the  rait- 
ture  of  her  presence  rippled  through  his  nerves; 
“you  have  fire  enough  in  you  to  make  an  admira¬ 
ble  musician.  But  your  flngcra,  as  yet,  refuse  to 
carry  out  your  line  intentions.  They  only  need 
discipline." 
“  And  do  you  suppose  you  can  discipline  them  7 
They  am  a  fearfully  obstinate  set  and  cause  me 
Infinite  mortification.” 
“  Would  you  allow  mo  to  look  at  your  hand  7” 
She  raised  her  right  hand  and,  with  a  sort  of 
Impulsive  heo(Uea.sne.ss,  let  It  drop  Into  his.  Au 
exclamation  of  surprise  escaped  him. 
“  If  you  will  p, anion  me,"  Ini  said,  “It  is  a  superb 
hand— a  hand  capable  of  performing  nilrnclc.s— 
musical  miracles,  1  mean.  Only  look  here’’— (and 
he  drew  the  lore  and  second  ri.igei'S  apart)—'*  so 
firmly  set  in  the  Joint  ami  still  so  flexible.  1  doubt 
If  Liszt  himself  can  boast  a  liner  row  of  ringers. 
Your  hands  sun'ly  will  not  prevent  you  from  be¬ 
coming  a  second  Von  Billow  which,  to  my  mind, 
means  a  good  deal  more  t  han  a  second  f.lszt,” 
"Thank  you;  that  Is  ipilto  enough  1"  she  ex¬ 
claimed,  with  an  incmduloua  laugh;  “you  h.ave 
done  bravely.  Tlnil,  at  ii  U  evx’nUs,  throws'  the 
whole  burden  or  re.spon.slhiiity  upon  myself,  if  l 
do  not  bocomo  a  seeoocl  .somebody.  1  shall  be  P't- 
lecMy  sattsfied,  however,  it  yon  can  only  make  me 
as  good  a  musician  ns  you  am  youraelt,  bo  that  l 
can  render  a  not  too  diniciilt  piece  without  feeling 
all  the  while  that  I  am  committing  sacrilege  In 
rnutlUUng  the  fine  thonghto  of  some  great  com¬ 
poser." 
"You  nro  too  modest;  you  do  not - " 
“  No,  no.  I  am  not  modesf^’’  she  Interruptod  him 
with  an  Impetuosity  wblcli  startled  him.  “l  bog 
of  you  not.  to  per.=tlst  in  paying  me  compliments  I 
get  too  much  of  that  cheap  article  el.scwhore,  I 
hate  to  he  toM  that  1  .um  better  than  I  know  I  am. 
If  you  ft  re  to  do  me  nny  good  liy  your  Instruction, 
you  must  be  perfectly  .sincere  toward  me,  and  tell 
me  plainly  of  my  slioitcomlngs.  l  promise  you 
beforehand  that  I  shall  never  lie  offended.  Thero 
Is  my  hand.  Now,  Is  Itabargiilii?" 
lllsfingpi’s  closed  invoiunUrlly  over  the  soft 
beautiful  hand,  anti  onc«i  more  the  luxury  of  her 
touch  scut  a  thrill  of  delight  through  him. 
“  I  have  not  been  imslnccre,"  he  murmured ; 
“hut  I  shall  be  on  my  guard  In  luturo,  even 
against  the  appearance  of  insincerity." 
“And  when  I  play  detestably,  you  will  say  so, 
and  not  smooth  It  over  with  unmeaning  tlaiter- 
Ics?" 
“  1  will  tiy.”  • 
“  Very  well,  then ;  wo  shall  get  on  well  enough 
together.  Do  not  Imagine  that  this  Is  a  mere 
femlnlno  whim  of  mine.  I  never  was  more  In 
earnest.  Men— and  I  believe  foreigners  to  agreat/- 
er  degree  than  Americans— have  the  Idea  that 
women  must  he  treated  with  gentle  forbearance; 
that  their  follies,  If  they  are  foolish,  mmst  be 
glossed  ovet  with  some  polite  name.  They  exert 
themselves  to  the  utmost  to  make  us  mere  play¬ 
things  and,  as  .such,  contemptible  both  in  our 
own  eyes  and  In  theirs.  No  sincere  respect  can 
exist  where  the  truth  has  to  bo  avoided.  But  the 
majority  of  .American  women  arc  made  of  loo 
stern  a  stuff  to  ho  dealt  with  In  that  way.  They 
feel  the  lurking  Insincerity  oven  whero  polllcncs.s 
forbids  them  to  show  It,  and  It  makes  them  dis¬ 
gusted  both  with  themselves  and  with  the  flatter¬ 
er.  .And  now  you  must  pardon  me  for  having 
spoken  so  plainly  to  you  on  so  short  an  aecinalnt,- 
ance ;  but  you  arc  a  foreigner,  and  It  may  bo  au 
act  of  friendship  to  Initiate  you  as  soon  us  possi¬ 
ble  Into  our  ways  a^d  eu.stom.s.’' 
He  hardly  knew  what  to  answer.  Iter  velic- 
mence  was  so  sudden  anti  the  scnLlments  she  had 
uttered  so  dltTerent  from  those  wiilch  ho  had  ha¬ 
bitually  ascribed  to  women,  that  he  could  only 
sit  and  gaze  at  her  In  mute  astonishment.  He 
could  not  but  admit  that  in  the  main  she  bad 
Judged  him  rightly,  and  that  Ills  own  attitude  and 
that  of  other  men  toward  her  sox,  were  based 
upon  an  implied  assumption  or  superiority. 
"  I  am  afraid  I  have  shocked  you, ’’she resumed, 
noticing  the  start.led  expression  of  his  counte¬ 
nance.  "  But  really  It  was  quite  inevitable,  if  wo. 
wore  at  all  to  understand  each  other.  You  will 
forgive  me,  won't  you?" 
“  Forgive stammered  he ;  “I  have  nothing  to 
forgive.  It  was  only  your  merciless  truthfulnoss 
which  startled  me.  I  rather  owe  you  thanks,  li 
you  will  allow  me  to  be  grateful  to  you.  It  seems 
an  enviable  privilege.” 
“  Now,”  Interrupted  Edith,  raising  her  forefinger 
in  playful  threat,  “  remember  your  promise." 
The  lesson  was  now  continued  without  further 
Interruption,  When  It  was  finished,  a  little  girl, 
with  her  hair  done  up  in  curl-papers  and  a  very 
stiffly  starched  dross,  which  stood  out  on  all  sides 
almost  horizontally,  entered,  accompanied  by 
.Mrs.  Van  Kirk.  Hftlfdaii  linimidlately  recognized 
hla  acivialntanoe  from  the  park,  and  it  appeartnl 
to  him  a  good  omon  that  this  child,  whoso  friendly 
Interest  In  him  had  warmed  his  heaiT,  In  a  mo¬ 
ment  wh'in  his  fortunes  scemod  so  flespenifi, 
should  continue  to  be  Associated  wit.h  hLs  life  ou 
this  new  continent  Clara  was  evidently  greatly 
Impressed  by  the  change  In  hts  appearance  and 
could,  with  diniculy,  be  restrained  from  comment¬ 
ing  upon  Ii. 
She  proved  a  very  apt  scholar  In  mu-slc  and  en¬ 
joyed  the  lessons  the  more  for  her  cordial  liking 
of  her  teacher. 
It  will  bo  necessary  henceforth  to  omit  the  less 
significant  details  in  the  career  of  our  friend  “  Mr. 
Bircn.”  Before  a  month  was  past,  he  had  firmly 
established  himself  In  the  favor  of  the  different 
membere  of  the  van  Kirk  family.  Mrs.  Van  lilrk 
spoke  of  lilm  to  her  lady  visitors  os  "  a  perfect 
Jewel,”  frequently  leaving  them  In  doubt  as  to 
whether  he  was  a  cook  or  a  coachman.  Edith 
apostrophised  him  to  her  fashionable  friends  as 
“  a  real  genius,"  leaving  a  dim  Impression  upon 
their  mindsot  flowing  locks,  a  shiny  velvet  Jacket., 
slouched  hat,  defiant  necktie  and  a  general  air  of 
disreputable  pretenMousnesa.  Geniuses  of  the 
foreign  type  were  never,  In  tho  estimation  of 
fashionable  New  York  .society,  what  you  would 
call  “  exactly  nice,"  and  against  prejudlnosof  this 
order  no  .amount  of  argument  will  ever  prevail. 
Clara,  who  had  by  this  tline  discovered  that  her 
teacher  possessed  an  inexhaustlhle  fund  of  fairy 
stories,  assured  her  playmates  acro.'is  the  street 
that  he  was  "just  splendid,"  and  frequently  In¬ 
vited  them  over  to  listen  to  hla  wonderful  tales. 
Mr.  Van  Kirk  himself,  of  course,  was  non-com- 
mltial,  but  paid  the  bills  unmnrmurlngly. 
Ualfdan  In  the  meanwhile  wa.s  vainly  struggling 
against  his  growing  passion  for  Edith;  but  tho 
more  he  rebelled  the  more  hopelessly  ho  found 
himself  entangled  In  Its  Inextricable  not.  The 
fly.  as  long  as  It  keeps  quiet  In  tJie  spider’s  web, 
may  for  a  moment  forget  Its  situation ;  but  the 
leimt  effort  to  escain,*  is  apt  to  frustrate  Itself  and 
again  reveal  the  immln<mt  peril.  Thu.s  ho  too 
"  kicked  agaln-st,  tho  pricks,”  hoporl,  roared,  re¬ 
belled  against  his  destiny,  and  again,  from  slieer 
wearlnewt,  relapsed  Into  a  dull,  benuinb'idnpal.liy, 
I n  spite  of  her  fiiendly  .sympathy,  he  never  felt 
80  keenly  his  alienism  as  in  her  iirusenoe.  .Sho 
accepted  the  .sponlaneoits  homagn  ho  paid  her, 
Homotlrnos  with  Impatience,  as  something  that 
was  really  beneath  her  not.lee ;  at  other  limes  she 
frankly  recognized  11,  bantered  him  with  his 
“Old  World  chlvaliT,"  which  would  soon  evapo¬ 
rate  In  tho  practical  American  atmosphere,  and 
called  him  htir  Viking,  her  knight  and  her  faithful 
isqulrc.  lint  It  iicv’or  occurred  to  her  to  regard  his 
devotion  in  a  serious  light,  and  to  look  upon  him 
as  a  posHlblo  lover  had  evidently  never  entered 
her  head. 
As  their  Intercoiiran  grew  more  Intimate,  he 
had  volunteered  to  read  his  fiivoiTUi  poote  with 
her,  and  had  gradually  .succeeded  fii  Imparting  to 
her  something  of  his  own  paaslonato  liking  toi 
Heine  and  Bjornson.  She  had  In  return  called 
Ills  attenDon  to  the  'works  of  American  authors 
who  had  lillhort'j  been  little  more  than  names  to 
him,  and  they  had  thus  managed  to  bo  of  mntuai 
benefit  to  each  other  and  to  spend  many  a  pleas¬ 
ant  hour  during  the  long  winter  afternoon.s  In 
each  other’s  company.  But  Edith  h.ad  a  very  keen 
Rense  of  humor  and  coiil'l  hardly  restrain  her 
secret  arnu.seinont  when  she  heard  him  re.adlng 
Longfellow’s  ’•  Psalm  of  Lite”  and  Poe’s  “  Haven” 
(wuicn  had  been  familiar  to  her  from  b.abyhood), 
oltcn  with  false  accent,  but  always  with  Intcnso 
cnthitslasm.  Tho  reflection  that  he  had  had  no 
part  Of  his  life  In  common  with  her  that  ho  did 
not  I'jve  tho  things  which  she  loved— could  not 
share  her  prejudlcoa  (and  women  have  a  fooling 
akin  to  contempt  for  a  man  wiio  does  not  respond 
to  their  prejudices)— removed  him  at  times  almost 
beyond  tlie  reach  of  imr  sympathy. 
It  was  interoatlng  enough  im  long  as  tho  oxpe- 
rlonco  was  novel,  to  be  thus  unconsciously  ex¬ 
ploring  another  person’s  mind  and  finding  ao 
many  strange  objects  thero ;  but  after  a  while 
the  thing  began  to  aa-sumii  au  uncomfortably  se¬ 
rious  aspect,  and  then  thero  seemed  to  be  some¬ 
thing  almost  terrible  about  It.  At  such  times  a 
call  from  a  gentleman  of  tier  own  nation— even 
tlioiigh  ho  were  one  of  the  plochlly  stupid  typo— 
would  be  a  posillve  rellof;  .she  could  abandon 
hcrsolf  lo  tho  secure  senao  of  being  at  homo;  ahe 
need  fear  no  surprises,  and  In  the  smooth  shallows 
of  their  talk  there  were  no  unsu.spectcd  depths  to 
excite  and  bufilo  her  Ingenuity,  And  again,  re¬ 
verting  in  In.r  thought  to  Halfdan,  his  cotivcr-Aa- 
tional  brilliancy  would  almost  repel  her,  as  some¬ 
thing  odious  and  un-Amerl'ian,  the  cheap  result  of 
outlandish  birth  and  unropubllcan  cduc.atlou. 
Not  Unit  aho  Had  ever  valued  republlc.aMlsm  very 
highly;  sho  wasoneof  ihosii  who  associated  poli¬ 
tics  with  nol-sy  vulgailty  in  speech  and  drem,  iind 
thoreforo  thanked  fortune  that  women  were  per- 
mltlod  to  k'iep  aloof  from  It.  But  In  the  presence 
of  this  alien  aho  found  Imrself  growing  patriotic ; 
that  rnuch-dlHcussod  abstraction,  which  we  call 
our  country  (and  which  Is  nothing  but  tho  aggre¬ 
gate  of  all  the  slow  and  Invisible  lnniiencc.s  which 
go  toward  making  up  our  own  being),  became  by 
dcgrccsa  very  palpableand Intelligible faettoher. 
Frequently  while  her  American  self  was  tlius 
loudly  asserting  Iteolf,  Edith  Inflicted  many  a 
cruel  wound  upon  her*  foreign  adorer.  Onoo-it 
was  the  fourt.h  or  .luly,  more  than  a  year  after 
Halfdan’s  arrival— a  number  of  young  ladles  and 
gentlemen,  after  having  listened  to  a  patriotic 
oration,  were  Invited  In  to  an  Informal  luncheon. 
WhUe  waiting,  they  naturally  enough  spent  their 
time  In  singing  national  songs,  and  Halfdan's 
clear  tenor  did  good  sen*  ice  In  keeping  the  strag¬ 
gling  voices  together.  When  they  had  finished, 
Edith  went  up  to  him  and  was  quite  effusive  in 
her  expressions  of  gi’atitnde. 
“  1  am  sure  we  ought  all  to  be  very  grateful  to 
you,  .Mr.  Birch," she  said,  “and  I,  for  my  part, 
can  assui'ii  you  that  I  aiu." 
“Grateful:  Why?"  demanded  Halfdan,  look¬ 
ing  quite  unhappy. 
“  For  singing  our  national  songs,  of  course. 
Now,  won’t  you  sing  one  of  your  own,  please  7 
We  should  all  bo  so  delighted  to  hear  how  a  Swed¬ 
ish— or  Norwegian,  la  It?  national  song  sounds!” 
"Yes,  .Mr.  Blroh,  no  sing  a  Hwe<llah  song," 
echoed  several  voices. 
They,  of  cuurso,  did  not  even  remotely  siiapect 
their  own  cruelty.  Ho  had,  In  his  enthu.slasm  for 
tho  day,  allowenl  himself  to  forget  that  he  was 
not  made  or  the  same  clay  as  they  were,  that  he 
was  an  exile  and  a  stranger,  and  must  ever  re¬ 
main  so ;  that  he  had  no  right  to  share  their  joy 
la  the  blessing  of  liberty.  Edith  bad  taken  pains 
to  dispel  the  happy  Illusion  and  had  sent  him 
once  more  whirling  toward  his  cold  native  Pole. 
Ills  passion  came  near  choking  him  and,  to  con¬ 
ceal  hla  Impetuous  emotion,  ho  flung  himself 
down  on  the  plano-stool  and  struck  somo  intro¬ 
ductory  chords  with  p'Thaps  a  little  superfluous 
emphasis,  suddenly  his  voice  burst  out  into  the 
Swedish  national  nntliem,  "Our  Land,  our  Land, 
our  Fatherland,"  and  the  sir  shook  mid  palpitated 
with  strong  martial  melody.  His  Indignation,  hla 
love  and  Ills  misery,  Imparted  strength  to  his 
voice,  and  Its  occasion.')  1  tremble  In  tho  piano 
pa.ssiiges  was  something  moio  tlnin  an  artistic 
!  intention.  He  was  loudly  applauded  us  he  arose, 
^  and  tho  young  ladles  thronged  about  him  te  ask 
If  he  “wouldn’t  please  write  out  i.ho  music  for 
them.” 
Thus  month  after  month  passed  by  and  every 
day  brought  Ita  own  misery.  .Mrs.  Van  Kirks 
patronizing  manners  and  ostentatious  kindness, 
often  tested  his  patience  to  tho  utmost,  if  he  was 
guilty  of  an  innocent  witticism  or  a  Hi, He  quaint¬ 
ness  of  exprr'sslon,  she  always  assumed  II.  to  be  a 
mlwtako  of  terms  and  coiTected  him  with  an  air 
tvf  oenign  superiority.  At  times,  or  course,  her 
I  cKwreotloiiH  were  legitimate  —  as,  for  Inst-unce, 
1  wCioD  he  spoke  of  wmi’Dipaciiiit!  Instead  nt  rarry- 
'  (mfj  ono ;  b\it  In  nine  cases  out  of  I  rn  tlio  fault  lay  In 
Jiierowii  lack  of  liuagluiitlon  and  not  In  his  Ignor¬ 
ance  of  KtiglLsIi. 
On  such  occasions  Edith  often  took  pli.y  on  him, 
defended  him  ugalmst  her  mother’s  ci  lMcIsm  and 
In.slsted  tliat  If  lilils  or  that  expression  was  not  In 
common  vogue,  that  was  no  reason  why  it  should 
not  be  used,  as  It  wiis  perfectly  grammatical  and, 
moronver,  In  keeping  with  the  spirit  of  the  lan¬ 
guage.  And  he,  listening  passively  In  admiring 
slleuoe  lo  her  tirgumcnl,  tlianiced  her  even  lor 
I  the  momentary  pain  hecaiise  Ik  was  followed  by 
so  great  a  happiness.  For  It  was  so  sweet  lo  be 
delonded  by  EdlUi,  to  feel  that  he  and  ahe  were 
standing  together  side  by  side  agalnat  the  outer 
world.  Could  he  only  show  her  In  the  old  heroic 
manner  Imw  much  he  loved  her!  Would  only 
some  one  liiiit  was  dour  to  her  die,  so  tliat  ho.  In 
that  breaking  down  of  social  barriers  which  fol¬ 
lows  a  great  calamity,  might  comfort  her  In  her 
sorrow.  Would  she  Uien,  perhap.s  wc  pliig,  lean 
her  wonderful  head  upon  tils  breast,  feeling  but 
Hiat  he  was  a  fellow  mortal,  who  had  a  heart  that 
was  loyal  and  true,  and  forgetting,  for  onn  brief 
Instiini,  that  bo  was  a  foreigner?  Then,  to  touch 
that  delicate  Kllzuhethan  trill  which  wound  Itself 
so  dalntll.r  about  ICdll.h'.s  neck- what  Incouoclv- 
I  able  rapture  1  But  It  was  quite  luiposslble.  It 
could  never  be.  Thoso  were  selfish  llunigbts,  no 
doubt ;  but  they  were  a  lover’s  selflshnohs  and,  as 
such,  bore  a  close  kinship  to  all  that  Is  pnrestand 
best  In  human  nature. 
It  Is  one  of  the  tragic  facts  of  this  life,  that  a 
relation  so  unequal  as  that  which  exl.-vted  between 
Halfdan  and  Edll.h,  Is  at  all  possible.  As  for 
Edith,  1  must  admit  that  she  wa.s  well  aware  that 
her  teacher  was  In  love  with  her.  Women  have 
wonderfully  keen  senses  for  pUnnomona  of  that 
kind,  and  It  Is  u  n  IlluBlou  If  any  one  Imagines,  as 
our  Norseman  did,  that  hii  hml  locked  hl.s  .secret 
seom  cly  In  the  hidden  chamber  of  hla  heart.  In 
fleeting  lutouullons,  uncoiU'iclous  glances  and  at- 
Ukudes,  ttinl  khroiigli  a  hundred  other  ohauuels.  It 
will  make  Its  way  out  and  the  bereaved  Jailor 
may  still  clasp  his  key  In  fierce  triumph,  never 
knowing  that  he  has  been  robbed. 
It  was  or  cour.ie  no  fault  of  Edith’s  that  sho  had 
become  i)os.sesiifid  of  Halfrtun’.s  hcart-siccret.  She 
regarded  It  us  on  the  wlioto  rather  an  absurd 
affair  and  prized  It  very  lightly.  That  a  love  so 
strong  and  yet  so  humble,  so  destitute  of  hope 
and  still  BO  unchanging,  reverent  and  faithful, 
had  something  grand  and  touching  In  it,  had 
nevei-  oenurred  to  her.  It  m  a  tnilsin  to  say  that 
In  our  social  code  the  value  of  a  man’s  character 
Is  determined  by  his  poslilon;  and  line  trails  In  a 
foreigner  (unless  ho  .should  happen  lo  be  some¬ 
thing  very  great)  strike  un  rather  as  paj  t  'jf  a  sup- 
po.sed  mental  alleulsm  and,  as  such,  naturally 
susplelomi.  Ills  rather  disgraceful  than  utlier- 
wlse  to  havo  your  music  teacluu'  in  love  with  yon, 
and  critical  friends  will  never  quite  banish  the 
suspicion  that  you  have  encouraged  him. 
Eillthhad,  In  her  first  delight  at  the  discovery 
of  Jlalfdufi's  talent,  frankly  admitted  him  to  a 
relation  of  apparent  equality.  He  was  a  man  of 
culture,  had  the  manncr.s  and  be.arlrig  of  a  gen¬ 
tleman.  and  had  none  of  thoso  theairlcal  airs 
which  so  oltcn  raise  a  sort  of  Invisible  wall  be¬ 
tween  foreigners  and  Amerkians.  Her  mother, 
who  loved  to  play  tho  patron,  especially  to  young 
men,  had  Invited  him  to  dinner  pariJe.s  and  Intro¬ 
duced  him  to  tJiclr  friends,  until  ulmust  every  one 
looked  upon  film  as  a  jirofepp  of  tho  family.  He 
appeared  so  well  In  a  parlor  and  had  really  such 
a  dlsllugulahed  presence,  that  It  was  a  ploasiire 
to  look  at  him.  He  was  remarkably  free  from 
those  obnoxious  traits  which  generalizing  Amer¬ 
ican  travelers  have  led  us  to  bnllevo  were  Insep¬ 
arable  from  foreign  birth ;  his  llnger-nalls  were 
In  no  w.ay  conspicuous;  he  did  not-  ms  a  French 
count,  a  former  adorer  of  Edltli  had  done— In¬ 
dulge  au  unma-scullne  taste  foi’  (llaniond  rings 
(possibly  because  he  nad  none);  his  pollteneas 
was  unobtrii.slve  and  subdued,  and  oi  hl.s  accent 
there  was  Just  enough  left  to  give  un  agreeable 
color  of  Individuality  to  his  bpeech.  But  lor  all 
that,  Edith  could  never  qultu  rid  herself  of  the 
Impres.ilon  that  he  was  Intensely  un-.Amerlcau. 
There  wa.s  a  eeriain  Idyllic  quiescence  about  him, 
a  chlld-llke  directness  and  slrapllclty,  and  a  total 
absence  or  “push,”  which  were  starf,llngly  at  va¬ 
riance  with  Uio  spirit  of  American  life. 
An  Aracrlcan  could  never  have  been  content  to 
remain  In  an  InferHir  position  without  trying,  in 
some  way,  to  better  ills  forruucs.  But  Halfdan 
could  stand  still  and  see,  without  the  faintest 
stirring  of  envy,  his  plebeian  filend  Ohon,  whoso 
education  and  talents  could  boar  no  comparison 
with  nlE  own,  rise  rapidly  above  him  and  appar¬ 
ently  liavc  no  desire  to  emuinte  him.  Ho  could 
