hlra  cold — seemed  unworthy  of  the  effort.  If  she 
had  usked  him  to  play  In  public ;  If  she  had  re¬ 
quired  of  him  to  go  to  the  North  Pole,  or  to  cut 
his  own  th  roat,  l  verily  believe  he  would  have  done 
It.  And  at  last  Rdlth  did  ask  him  to  play.  8he 
and  Olson  had  plotted  togetJier  and  from  the  very 
friendliest  motives  agreed  to  play  Into  each 
other's  hands. 
“  If  you  only  fPould  consent  to  play,  ’  said  she. 
In  her  own  persuasive  way,  one  day  as  they  had 
tlnlshed  their  lesson,  “we  should  all  be  so  happy. 
Only  think  how  proud  we  should  be  of  your  suc- 
was  welcomed  with  an  enthusiastic  burst  of  ap¬ 
plause,  ns  If  he  had  been  a  world-renowned  artist. 
At  Etllth’8  suggestion,  her  two  favorite  Ufirtunies 
had  been  placed  first  upon  the  programme ;  then 
followed  one  of  those  ballads  of  Chopin,  whose 
rhythmic  din  and  nish  sweep  Onward,  beleaguer¬ 
ing  the  ear  Uke  eager,  melodious  hosts,  charging 
In  tJolckenlng  ranks  and  columns,  beating  Inipet,- 
UOU8  retreats,  and  again  uniting  with  one  grand 
emotion  the  wldo-5i)rcadlng  army  of  sound  for  the 
final  victory.  Besides  these,  thoro  was  one  of 
Llazt'8“  Rhapsodies  llongrolBes,"  an  impromptu 
by  Schubert  and  several  orchestral  pieces ;  but 
,  the  greater  part  of  the  programme  was  devoted 
to  Chopin,  because  Ilalfdan,  with  his  great,  hope¬ 
less  passion  laboring  In  his  breast,  felt  that  ho 
eould  Interpret  Chopin  better  than  he  could  any 
other  composer.  lie  carried  his  audience  by 
storm.  As  bo  retired  to  the  dre.sslng-room,  after 
having  nnlshcd  the  last  piece,  his  friends,  among 
whom  Edith  and  Mrs.  Van  Kirk  weie  the  most 
consplcfiOfiH,  thronged  about  him,  showering  their 
praises  and  congnitulaMons  upon  him.  They  in- 
iilstcd  with  fUfich  friendly  urging  upon  taking  him 
home  m  their  carrtngo;  Clara  klbseil  him,  Wis. 
Van  Kirk  liitrodficed  him  to  her  lady  acquaint¬ 
ances  as  "  our  friend,  Mr.  Hlrch,”  and  Edith  held 
his  hand  so  long  la  hors  th.at  ho  came  near  losing 
his  presence  of  mind  and  Iclllng  her  t  hen  and 
there  that  he  loved  her. 
result.  This  was  often  manifested  In  his  letters, 
in  one  of  the  latest  of  which  he  wrote  us: 
“Ahofit  self.  Four  weeks  now  since  I  left  my 
bed  for  a  longer  time  than  long  enough  to  have  it 
made  up  or  changed.  Flesh,  strength  and  bi'cath 
going— going.  But  I  am  very  oomlortahle  in  my 
dying,  and  am  really  enjoying  life  with  all  the 
present  pull-backs.  I  lie  here,  read  the  N'.  Y. 
dallies  and  other  papers  and  books,  and  watch 
the  world  with  much  the  same  interest  that  1  did 
when  t  was  of  it  and  In  It.  I  am  tn  no  wise  dis¬ 
content,  and  continue  to  do  as  I  have  done-take 
DEATH  or  OHAELES  D.  BEAGDOH, 
Port  Ontario,  Oswego  County,  N.  Y.,  In  the  forty- 
seventh  year  of  his  age.  Though  not  perhaps  I 
unexpected  to  many— for  the  deceased  had  been 
an  Invalid  for  years— tills  anuouncernent  will  be 
read  with  painful  regret  by  thousands  of  our  read¬ 
ers,  as  Mr.  B.  was  widely  known  and  highly  re- 
giirded  lor  hla  rare  ability  and  excellent  qualities 
of  head  a  nd  heart.  I  ndeed.  he  was  one  who  Justly 
had  a  miTlad  of  friends,  and  few,  11  any.  enemies— 
for  ho  possessed  those  noble  and  nllroctlve  char¬ 
acteristics  which  ever  win  and  retain  admiration 
and  esteem,  as  all  who  know  him  personally  can 
attest.. 
Mr.  Bragpok  was  a  native  of  the  town  in  which 
he  died,  though  he  resided  there  but  a  short  time 
after  reaching  his  majority.  Ills  father  was,  and 
still  is,  one  Of  the  leading  farmers  of  the  region, 
and  his  son,  m  addiUon  to  receiving  the  .best  edu¬ 
cation  nlTordcdby  the  common  schools  and  acade¬ 
mies  of  the  locality,  was  lliorouglily  trained  In 
the  various  branches  of  the  noblest  a  nd  most  use¬ 
ful  of  all  avocations— Agriculture.  This  cuahled 
the  deceased  to  “  act  well  his  p.irt,''  siibsequently, 
as  an  Agricultural  Editor,  both  Ih  this  atatoaud 
the  West,  for  he  always  knew  <from  either  expe¬ 
rience  or  olw*?rvaUon,  and  frequently  from  both) 
whereof  he  afllrmed  on  any  subject  pertaining  to 
rural  life  wiuch  he  discussed.  Ills  peculiar  ntucss 
furfhe  work— the  result  or  a  rare  combination  of 
pracMoul  kuowle  Ige,  meniiU  ability,  application 
and  industry— was  the  great  secret  of  his  success, 
although  manly  independence,  uD-seliishaoss,  and 
unswerving  integrity  of  character  and  purpose, 
were  important  adjuncts.  These  tralt-s  admirably 
qualldcd  Mr.  llaAOupv  for  the  Important  ami  re¬ 
sponsible  position  Of  an  Agricultural  .Journalist, 
for  he  knew  the  Right,  and  neither  friendship, 
IntlupDce  nor  monc.v  could  Induce  him  to  commit 
or  sanction  Wrong;  consequently  he  fearlessly 
exposed  many  doccpllona  and  humbugs  designed 
to  fleece  unwary  rurallsta  and  the  public  gener¬ 
ally,  thereby  sjivlng  those  Interested  from  great 
losses.  For  thl3%.lonc  he  l.s  cnUllod  to  the  grate- 
fill  remembrance  of  the  Agricultural  and  general 
public,  whoso  welfare  ho  ever  sought  to  promot.e. 
Ah  Ills  eyes  resied  on 
her.  they  became  siuUlciily  sii  ffiiHed  with  tears  and 
a  vast,  bewildering  happiness  vibrated  through 
his  frame.  At  last  ho  tore  himself  away  anil  wan¬ 
dered  aimlessly  through  Mio  long,  lonely  streets. 
Why  could  he  not  tell  F.dlth  tlmt  ho  loved  her? 
Was  there  any  disgrace  in  loving?  This  hsavenly 
passion  which  so  sudderdy  had  transllxcd  his 
bclug,  and  year  by  year  deadened  tlio  substance 
Of  his  old  self,  crcallnjr  I  n  Its  stead  something  new 
and  wild  and  strange  which  he  ncvoreuuld  know, 
but  still  held  Indefinitely  dear— had  It  been  sent 
to  him  merely  as  a  scourge  to  te.st  hU  ciipaclty  for 
siifTerlug? 
The  night  was  clear  and  still.  A  clnek  struck 
eleven  In  some  church  tower  nearby.  The  Van 
Kirk  mansion  rose  tall  and  stately  in  the  moon¬ 
light,  flinging  a  dense  mass  of  shadow  across  the 
street.  I’p  In  the  third  story  he  saw  turn  windows 
lighted  ;  the  curUilus  were  drawn,  but  the  blinds 
were  not  closed.  All  the  rest  of  the  Ijousc  was 
dark.  He  ral.sod  his  voice  and  sang  a  KwedLsh 
serenade  which  socuiod  in  perfect  concord  with 
his  own  mood.  Ills  cle.'ir  tenor  rose  through  the 
silence  of  th©  night  and  a  feeblo  echo  flur  g  It 
back  from  the  mansion  opposite : 
“  Star,  flweet  ptar,  that  hrlahtly  heamest, 
Qlitteringon  the  KkieH  nooluriml, 
HIdo  thine  eyo  no  more  Truni  mo. 
Hide  ihlne  eyo  no  morn  from  mi:!’’ 
The  curtain  was  drawn  aside,  tho  window  cau¬ 
tiously  raised,  undUio  oilMlno  of  Edith’s  beautiful 
head  .appeared  dark  and  distinct  agalmst  thought 
within.  She  Instantly  recognized  iilm. 
••  You  mu-st  go  away,  .Mr.  Birch,’’  came  her  voice 
In  an  anxious  whisper  out  ot  tho  shadow.  “  Pray 
go  .away.  You  will  wako  up  the  people,’’ 
Her  words  were  audible  enough,  but  they  failed 
to  convey  any  meaning  to  his  exClled  mind.  Once 
more  his  voice  floated  upward  to  her  opened  win¬ 
dow: 
“  And  1  yearn  to  roach  thy  dwclllnir. 
Yearn  to  rlso  from  earth’d  fhirce  turmoil ; 
Swoetost  Htiir  upward  to  thee, 
Ycurn  to  rl#o,  bright  star  to  thee.’’ 
“Dear  Mr.  Birch,”  She  whispered  once  more  In 
tones  of  dl3trcs.s,  “  pray  do  go  away.  Or  perhaps,” 
she  internipted  herself,  “ — wall  one  moment 
and  1  v/lH  come  down." 
Presently  the  front  door  was  noiaeies-siy  opened 
and  Edith's  tall,  lithe  torm,  dressed  in  a  white 
flowing  dress  and  with  her  blonde  hair  rolling 
loosely  over  her  shoulders,  appeared  for  an  Instant 
and  then  again  vanished.  With  one  leap  Halfdan 
sprang  up  tho  stairs  and  pnshed  through  tho  half- 
opened  door.  Edith  closed  th«>  door  behind  him ; 
then,  with  rapid  steps  led  the  way  to  the  back 
parlor  where  tho  moon  broke  feebly  through  the 
bars  of  the  closed  shutters. 
“Now,  Mr.  Birch,"  aha  said,  seating  herself 
upon  a  lounge,  “  you  may  explain  to  me  what  this 
unaccoiiutablo  behavior  of  yoimi  means.  1  should 
hardly  think  1  have  desiTved  to  be  treated  in  this 
way  by  you." 
Halfdan  wits  utterly  bewildered ;  a  nervous  fit 
of  trembling  ran  through  him  and  ho  endeavored 
In  vain  to  speak.  Ho  had  been  prepared  for  pas¬ 
sionate  reproaches,  but  thi.s  calm  severity  chilled 
him  through  and  he  could  only  gasp  and  tremble, 
but  could  utter  no  word  In  his  defense. 
“  I  suppose  you  are  aware,"  continued  Edith  in 
the  same.  Imperturbable  manner,  “that  If  I  had 
not  Interrupted  you.  the  iioliceman  would  have 
heard  you  and  you  would  have  bcou  arrestud  for 
street  disturbance.  Then  to-morrow  wc  should 
have  seen  It  In  all  the  liewspapers,  and  l  should 
have  been  the  laughing-stock  of  the  whole  town.” 
No ;  suK’ly  he  had  never  tlioiight  of  It  In  that 
light.  The  idea  struck  him  us  cutirely  new.  There 
was  a  long  pause.  A  cock  crowed  Artih  a  drowsy 
remoteness  lu  some  neighboring  yard,  and  the 
little  clock  on  the  mantel-piccc  ticked  on  patient¬ 
ly  In  the  moonlit  dusk. 
“If  you  nave  nothing  to  say,"  resumed  Edith, 
while  the  stem  Indirrerefico  In  her  voice  percepti¬ 
bly  relaxed,  “tlieii  I  wlU  bid  you  good-night.’’ 
She  arose  and,  with  a  grand  sweep  of  her  drap 
ery,  moved  toward  the  door, 
“Miss  Edith,”  cried  he,  stretching  his  hands 
despairingly  after  her,  “  you  must  not  leave  me.” 
She  paused,  tossed  her  hulr  back  with  her  hands 
and  gazed  at  him  over  her  shoulder.  Ho  threw 
himself  on  his  knees,  seized  tlio  hem  of  her  dress 
and  preiSHcd  It  to  his  Ups.  It  was  a  gesture  of  such 
Inexpressible  humility  that  even  a  stone  would 
have  relented. 
.V:  'W' 
ly.  I>ON. 
*  cess,  tor  you  know  there  is  nothing  you  can’t  do 
in  the  way  of  music  If  you  really  want  to.” 
1-  “  Do  you  really  think  so  7"  exclaimed  he,  while 
a  his  eyes  suddenly  grew  largo  and  luminous. 
“  Indeed  I  do,”  said  Edltu,  emphatically, 
u  “  And  If  It  1  Played  well,”  faltered  he,  “would 
In  truth,  he  helped  make  the  fortunes  of  the  In¬ 
dustrial  anil  Producing  Classes,  and  hence  was  a 
public  benefactor— really  enilUlng  him  to  a  monu¬ 
ment  and  Ills  famUy  tosubstanUal  recognition. 
This  Is  strong  language,  but  true.  The  writer 
know  tho  deceased  well  and  Intimately  for  years, 
and  con  therefore  attest  to  his  Udellty  to  tho  cause 
of  Rural  Progrws  and  improvement,  In  the  ad¬ 
vocacy  of  which  his  ability  was  coupled  with  rare 
modesty  and  unsolflshnesa.  Had  he  been  forward 
and  ambltlou-i  he  could  have  aohleved  fame  and 
fortune  In  almost  any  fleld  or  profoialon  choflen. 
But  he  was  neither  ambitious  nor  selfish.  'I'hls  Is 
manifested  id  one  ot  the  lost  letters  he  wrote  ns 
—only  a  few  weeks  before  hts  death— from  which 
we  quote  those  noteworthy  and  noble  sentences, 
the  Italics  being  his  own One  thing— /  Turer 
did  envy  o,ny  num  in  Ow  profession,  no  matter 
whether  more  or  loss  successful  In  my  line  of 
business ;  iicneo  I  really  rejoice  with  those  who 
do  rejoice  over  success,  and  slucercly  mourn  with 
those  who  have  cause  to  mourn  because  of  failure. 
1  have  no  dlsappoliitmanta  to  mourn  over  or  think 
of,  tor  I  nevor  have  had  any  ambitious  objects,  in 
rny  own  Indtvmoii  inxerest  alone,  to  promote.” 
Mr.  Bragdon's  life  work,  which  he  performed 
well,  was  Agricultural  JournaUsm.  Hla  first  arti¬ 
cle  was  written  for  the  Rural  Nbw-Yorkbe  while 
a  young  man  on  his  father’s  farm.  It  attracted 
our  special  attention,  was  publlanod  Ipromptly, 
and  the  writer  properly  recognized.  This,  a.s  Mr, 
B.  assured  us  afterward,  was  the  turning  point  in 
his  life,  and  the  cause  of  hl3  becoming  a  Journal¬ 
ist.  After  contributing  to  tbe  Rural  for  some 
time  Mr.  B.  removed  to  Chicago  and  connected 
himself  with  the  Pr-olrle  Farmer,  the  oldest  and 
leading  Journal  ot  Its  class  In  the  West,  ot  which 
he  was  subsequenily  the  chief  editor.  In  Jan., 
ISM,  ho  become  Associate  Editor  of  the  Rural 
New-Yorker,  which  position  he  filled  most  cred¬ 
itably  until  the  spilng  or  1*63.  A  year  or  two 
later  (after  managing  his  faiher'3  farm  one  sea¬ 
son)  Mr.  B.  again  went  West  wud  held  a  responsi¬ 
ble  editorial  po.dtiou  on  the  Chicago  Republican 
(now  luier-oceauj,  and  was  for  oome  two  years 
the  Western  Corresponding  Editor  ot  this  J oumal. 
Meantime  Mr.  s.’s  ability  and  versatility  of  talent 
became  well  known  and  appreciated.  On  the  re¬ 
moval  of  the  Rural  New- Yorker  to  this  city,  In 
Jan.,  1869,  Mr.  braodok  again  became  our  trusted 
and  eftlclent  Associate,  and  donned  the  harnesa 
of  “  Working  Editor,”  as  he  was  wont  to  style 
himself.  And  most  asBlduously,  faithfully  and 
“Of  course  It,  would,” cried  Edith,  laughing; 
“  how  can  you  ask  such  a  foolish  question  ?” 
“  Because  I  hardly  dared  to  believe  It.” 
“  Now  listen  to  me,”  continued  the  girl,  leaning 
forward  In  her  chali’  and  beaming  all  over  with 
kindly  offlclousness ;  “  now  for  once  you  must  be 
rational  and  do  Just  what  I  tell  you.  I  shall  never 
like  you  again  it  3  on  oppose  mo  in  this,  for  I  have 
set  my  heart  upon  It;  you  most  promise  before¬ 
hand  that  you  will  be  good  and  not  make  any  ob¬ 
jection.  DO  you  hour’/” 
When  Edith  assumed  thks  tone  toward  him,  she 
might  well  have  made  hitn  proraLse  to  perform 
She  was  too  Intent  upon  her  benovo- 
mlracle.s, 
lontgchemeto  heed  t  he  possible  inferences  which 
ho  might  draw  from  hersucldon  display  of  Intorest. 
“Then  you  promise?"  repeated  she  eagerly,  as 
he  hesltatM  to  answer. 
“  Yes.  1  promise.” 
“  Now,  you  must  not  be  surprised ;  hut  mamma 
and  I  have  made  arrangements  with  Mr.  S - 
that  you  are  to  appear  under  his  auspices  at  a 
concert,  which  Is  to  be  given  a  wot^k  from  to-night. 
All  our  frlend.s  arc  going,  and  wo  shall  lako  up 
all  the  front  seals,  and  I  have  alreudy  told  my 
gentlemen  friends  to  scatter  through  the  au¬ 
dience,  aod  It  they  care  anything  for  my  favor, 
they  will  have  w  applaud  vigorously.” 
Ilalfdan  reddened  up  to  his  temples  and  began 
to  twist  his  watch-chain  ncrvomsly. 
“You  must  have  small  confidence  In  ray  abil¬ 
ity,”  he  murmured,  “slue©  you  resort  to  precau¬ 
tions  like  the.se.” 
“But,  my  dear  Mr.  Birch,”  cried  Edith,  who 
wa.s  quick  to  discover  that  she  made  a  mistake, 
“  It  Is  not  kind  in  you  to  mistrust  me  In  that  way. 
If  a  New  York  audience  were  cs  highly  cultivated 
In  music  as  you  are,  i  admit  that  my  precautions 
would  be  superduoiis.  But  the  papers,  j'ou  know, 
svlU  fake  their  tone  from  the  audience,  and  there¬ 
fore  wc  must  make  uscot  allttlo  Innocent  arllUcc 
to  make  sure  of  It.  Everything  depends  upon  the 
succesi  ot  your  tir.st  public  appf;arance,  and  if 
your  friends  can  in  this  way  help  you  to  cstabllah 
the  rcputatlou  which  18  nothing  but  your  right,  I 
um  sure  you  ought  not  to  bind  their  hands  by 
yoirn  foolish  .seasltlvenoss.  You  don’t  know  tho 
Ainertean  way  of  doing  things  as  well  a»  I  do,  and 
therefor©  you  must  stand  by  your  jiromlse,  and 
leave  ©verithlng  to  me.” 
It  was  impossible  not  to  believe  that  anything 
Edith  chose  to  do  was  above  reproach.  She  looked 
HO  bewitching  In  her  excited  eagerness  for  his 
welfare  that  It  would  have  been  Inhuman  to  op¬ 
pose  her.  So  he  meekly  succumbed,  and  began 
to  discuss  with  her  tho  programme  for  the  con¬ 
cert. 
The  evening  of  the  concert  came  at  ia.st  and,  as 
the  papers  slatod  the  next  morning,  ’•  ihu  largo 
hall  WS.S  eVowded  to  its  utmost  eaitaclty  wiin  a 
select  and  highly  appreciative  audlcmx’.”  Edith 
must  have  played  her  part  of  the  performance 
skillfully  fgr,  as  he  ’.vulked  out  upon  th©  stage,  he 
A  MAN  WHO  LOST  HIS  NAME 
[Continued  from  page  366.  | 
Three  years  had  passed  by,  and  still  the  situa¬ 
tion  was  unchanged.  Halfdan  still  taught  music 
and  told  fairy  stories  to  the  children.  He  had  a 
good  many  more  pupils  now  than  three  years  ago, 
although  he  h.ad  made  no  effort  to  solicit  patron¬ 
age,  and  had  never  tried  to  advertise  his  talent 
by  what  he  regarded  as  vulg.ar  and  ln.artl.8iic  dis¬ 
play.  But  Mrs.  Van  Klilc,  who  had  by  this  time 
discovered  hl8  dlslncUnaUon  to  assert  hlm.selt, 
had  beeu  only  the  more  active ;  had  •*  talked  him 
up "  among  her  aristocratic  friends ;  had  given 
musical  soirees,  at  which  she  had  coaxed  him  to 
play  the  principal  rote,  and  had  in  various  other 
ways  exerted  herself  In  hl.s  behalf.  It  was  getting 
to  be  quite  fashionable  to  admire  hts  (lulet,  uno.s- 
tentatloua  style  of  playing,  which  wa.s  ho  far  re¬ 
moved  from  the  noisy  bravado  and  clap-trap  then 
commonly  in  vogue.  Even  profesalonal  musicians 
began  to  indorse  him  and  some,  who  had  discov¬ 
ered  that  “  there  was  money  in  him,”  made  him 
tempUng  offers  for  a  public  engagcmoni.  But 
with  characteristic  modesty,  he  distrusted  their 
verdict;  hla  sensitive  nature  shrank  from  any¬ 
thing  which  had  tho  appearance  of  sclf-assurllon 
or  display. 
But  Edith- ah,  If  It  had  not  been  for  Edith,  he 
might  have  found  courage  w  enter  at  the  door  of 
fortune,  which  wa.8  now  opened  ajar.  That  fame, 
if  he  should  gain  it,  would  bring  hlia  any  nearer 
to  her,  was  a  thought  that  wag  aUen  to  so  un¬ 
worldly  a  temperament  as  his.  And  any  action 
,  {,))at  had  no  bearing  ujmn  his  relation  to  her,. left 
