440 
JUNE 48 
ptfrart) Utisrcllauii. 
MAEJOEIE DAW. 
(Continued from pa*e 393.) 
“ No,” said Marjorie, laughing. "I have seen 
thar, beautiful Madonna of Iiaphael’8, and you must 
know she Is quite fair. I am a black woman com¬ 
pared with her r* 
•< Black I” echoed he. •• With a throat and brow' 
lik-e alabaster! Oh, Marjorie 1 my dear, you aie 
far too beautiful to be caught up and married to a 
village clown 1” 
Miss Marjorie Daw tossed her head. 
“ I think r should have to he consulted before I 
became the wife of a clown.” 
Old Mr. Peter bent Ills head and looked admir¬ 
ingly at Marjorie’s beautiful averted face. 
•• You, with your black hair, and dark eyes, and 
fair skin, are far more lovely than Raphael’s 
1 Belle Jardiniere,' iny dear!” said the old man; 
• and I say that you ought not, you must not, be 
sacrificed 1” 
a IS queer old rough face was crimson from emo¬ 
tion. lie was sixty-live years old, a tough, strong 
old man, whose boast it w as that he had never hud 
an ache or a pain in hls life. Colds w ere unknown 
to him; rheumatism and goal were mere shadows, 
like the bogles which unprincipled nursemaids con- 
j ire up to frighten children. He had never had a 
In adache nor a tl’of Indigestion InUia life. Hls 
appetite was excclle nt. He could sleep on a deal 
board. He could wa’k for a whole day, and scarcely 
feel fatigued. Ills familiar name In polite circles 
was the Rhinoceros,” and he knew It, and re¬ 
joiced In the title. 
lie liad been a childless widower for thirty years. 
He had been supposed impervious to the shafts of 
love daring that space of rime. Ills morals were 
unimpeachable, lie had traveled much, but with 
all t Ills he vrae a miser—one who ground the last 
guinea out of hls tenants, and reiused on principle 
to do anything to Improve the condition of their 
farms. Add to all this that he was the richest of 
land-owners, this •• great little, poor old rich man” 
—thuB the wicked Marjorie called him behind hls 
hick—had fallen desperately in love with the 
daughter of hls tenant Thomas Daw. 
CHA PTER II. 
Marjorie tossed her head again. She guessed 
what was coming, and her heart heat fast—oh, so 
fast! She knew who was walling for her by the 
side of the stream—a young man with flashing 
dark eyes and a stalwart form. How impatient he 
must he by this lime! 
” Ah I it Hie positions were only changed,” said 
Marj orle to herself. 
But alas 1 In this world It sometimes seems to us 
hat people are not In their right places. 
"Marjorie, my dear,” said old Mr. Peter, and 
Ills voice shook, "will you become my wife? 
Many a high born girl, my dear, would Jump for 
,oy It I asked her that question, 1 will settle all 
\lie lands oo you, my dear, except the entail; that 
muBt pass to my second cousin, of course; unless”— 
He did not tlulsh the sentence, hut Marjorie un¬ 
derstood what great possibilities were ottered to 
her and her children after her, 
“ We would go away to London In May—to Italy 
1 n the Winter—to the Swiss lakes or to the scotch 
Highlands In the hot Summers. Oh I what a life 1 
What lovely things he would buy me 1 How I 
would dress! I would cut out Mra Langtry In the 
London season! The world at my feet—the 
world 1” 
Then she looked at him, and she said to herself 
"The woild? But the heart empty and hun¬ 
gry? Ah 1 what a pity one has a heart!—it Is In 
the way ot one's happiness I” 
And all this while Mr. Peter stood there in hls 
shabby brown coat, waiting for an answer. The 
red light was fading fast in the pale sky, the shad¬ 
ows were creeping over the woods; the moon was 
getting up behind the old barn in the rear of the 
Yarrow Farm. 
*• He baa gone home now !” said Marjorie to her¬ 
self, thinking of the handsome youth by the side of 
the stream who was walling for her. " After all, 
whit hits Kurus Gorse to cifer me? Not even a 
humble home 1 True, there have been times when 
1 have felt that I could he happy with him even In 
a garret: hut that was when we thought he was 
dying with fever last autumn. I know I should 
hate a garret, even with Titm!” And Marjorie 
was right. •• Still, I must talk to Rufus Drst,” she 
said to herself ; then aloud: 
“ Mr. Peter, your offer has made me giddy with 
surprise; it Is too much honor, sir, for me.” 
"la that, to he my answer, Miss Daw ?” said he, 
in a hard, haughty tone; If so, it, does you honor; 
it is cutting, and yet courteous enough lo have 
been spoken by some beauty in Mayralr." 
”1 meant 10 more than I said,” Marjorie an¬ 
swered, simply ; "really 1 can hardly believe that 
I had bueli an offer." 
oi * Mr. Peter cnuckled; he was pleased again. 
“My dear,” he said, "it is thet.uth, and you 
need not think it tuck an honor. Your beauty 
should almost buy you a throne, and my happi¬ 
ness is wrapped up m y ou, hipeak, Marjorie; will 
you be my wife?" 
“D-ar Mr. Peter, let me sleep on this; let me 
think alt to morrow, and then In the evening at 
this time, 1 wl il make up my mind.” 
“ a hen am 1 lo come lor my answer, Miss Mar¬ 
jorie?” 
“ No; 1 will write It this time to morrow night, 
and run down to the village and post it.; you will 
have the answer by the day after to morrow.” 
“No,” said Mr. Peter, •• 1 can't wait my dear; I 
hate sutpinse. it you refuse me I Bhall go away 
and stay for a couple of years." 
Mr. Peter hai an odd trick of blinking hls eyes 
when lie was agitated; he did so now most furi¬ 
ously even In that faint light; the fact was evb 
dent to Marjorie. She had a horrible inclination 
THE RURAL NEW-YORKER 
to laugh—a nervous laugh, half triumph, half fear, 
half regret. 
“ Oh, Mr. Peter,” she said, “ I will tell you to¬ 
morrow ; 1 am sorry I can't speak now, hut-” 
"No, don’t-no, don’t, my dear 1” he interrupted. 
“Take your time; I can wait until to-morrow 
night, hut not a minute longer, so now I’ll go. You 
can Just, tell your people that I was passing, and 
that I came In to see the flowers, one word more, 
Marjorie: If you refuse me will you keep thlB a se¬ 
cret ? it’s a great deal to ask a girl to hide the 
fact of such an offer, hut I think you are generous, 
my dear, and I do ask you.” 
But a spirit of coquetry arose In Marjorie. 
“ I have not refused you yet,” she said. “ Walt 
until 1 do.” 
So the old Baronet was compelled to be contents 
ed with that; he went away after saying good 
night, and holding Marjorie Daw’s hand for a 
minute within hls own. 
Marjorie stood at the gate, and watched the fig¬ 
ure of the old man, seated on hls little sturdy 
beast, move slowly down the steep lane. Man and 
horse seemed cut out against the pale, Spring 
heaven. At last they dipped down out of sight, 
hut Marjorie could still hear the pattering of the 
pony’s feet In the lower road. 
She leaned on the gate and listened. The oholce 
of two lines was offered her—splendor without 
love, or penury made brilliant by the tires of pas¬ 
sion. She was proud, capricious, ambitious but 
her blood ran sometimes like liquid fire In her 
veins; she was a spoiled girl, but she had a heart. 
She at this time only guessed at hair Its depth, Its 
capacity for affection, Us yearning for love. 
“ 1 suppose,”she said to nerseff, softly, "that 
I shall become Mrs. Peter; yes, yes, I suppose so. 
1 could do a great deal then tor my friends; fath¬ 
er’s farm should be improved, and he should only 
pay half the rent he pays now. Some day the 
lands would be mine! then Rufus—I can help him 
—give him a thousand pounds, and send him to 
Italy to study music there, and then he might 
marry a lady of rank when he became famous. 
No, no, no, l could not bear that. Poor Mr. Peter 
Is old though bo strong. When oae is sixty-live 
one can’t expect to keep on living always." 
“Ah,” said a musical voice, tinged, though only 
pleasantly, “ah, faithless one ! I have waited for 
you, Marjorie, until my heart felt heavy as lead. 
Why did you not come, then, as you promised ?” 
The young lover stood In the moonlight, a very 
different figure from old Mr. Peter, a tall, erect 
fellow, with a certala manly grace of attitude. 
Hls face was beautiful, Marjorie Thought as some 
exquisite cameo. The lines of level brow and 
curved nostril and finely-moulded upper lip were 
so pure. Certainly Rufus Gorse, village school¬ 
master, and organist of the tiny parish church, 
was handsome enough to attract the aueutlOD of 
the fine visitors In the squire’s pew on Sundays. 
He had such deep-set dashing gray eyes, with so 
many lights and shadows In them, and t ,e whole 
expression or the face was at once so manly and 
so sweet. 
“What kept you away, my Marjorie?” asked 
Kurus again. 
“ Not your MaTjorle yet,” she said sadly; and 
then she added, Impulsively, "Oh! Rulus, I wish 
that you were rich, or that I were rich, that 
would do as well!” 
“ My darling,” he answered, simply, in a voice 
that shook w ith passionate joy, for were not the 
girl’s words a confession of love ? He came up to 
the gate and laid hls hand—hls Arm, warm, stroDg 
hand—upon her shoulder, "Will you promise to 
he my wife, Marjorie?” 
“ Oh, Rufus, you have asked me that before. 
You know that my father has only about flve hun¬ 
dred pounds to give me, and the old furniture at 
the Yarrow, when he and mother die, and you 
have nothing. • 
He took his hand from, her shoulder, stood back 
a little way, and folded hls arms. 
•• I have nothing. Miss Daw, that Is true, only 
my love and my life to lay at your feet. But, 
Mai jorl drawing a little nearer to her—" It 
you will give me lime, I will make money—a for¬ 
tune even-in lime.” 
"Yes, when we are both old,” said Marjorie, 
sulkily. “ Who wants to wear sallu and diamonds 
for the first time when one ts wrinkled and 
gray?" 
He laughed softly, for he loved Marjorie. lie 
was accustomed to her caprices, and he believed 
that she loved him In her heart. 
“ My darling. I will promise to give you a 
handsome home, long—long before your hair is 
gray; hut must you wear diamonds, Marjorie?” 
“ 1 should love to wear diamonds!” she an¬ 
swered, sulkily. 
She had a little piece of sharpened stick In her 
hand, and she was scraplDg the gate with It and 
looking down at H pouttugly, Just as a child might 
who Is out of temper when reiused some treat. 
“ Diamonds 1” he said, looklug up into the sky 
and smiling. "1 did not know) ou had set your 
mind on royal gems so strongly. Well, Maijorle, 
I will buy you a diamond ring of betrothal before 
this day twelvemonth—will mat do?” 
But Marjorie, still scraping away with her bit 
ol wood, was thinking of the splendid family 
jewels up at Beaucourt, und the single diamond 
ring, lur which she must wait a whole year, looked 
paltry in her eyeB. 
“ No, Rulus; ir I can’t have everything to match 
I don’t want one diamond rlug I” 
“ My darling Marjorie, 1 can never hope to make 
all your dally life ablaz j with diamonds; 1 am not 
a pi lace," 
“No,” said Marjorie, to herself; but Mr, Peter 
has five thousand a year i” 
“ Then, Marjorie, do you refuse me?” 
“ Not quite ; 1 like you—you know that.” 
•* Then you accept me?” 
lie came up to the gate and laid hls hand again 
upon her shoulder. 
*• Not quite,” said Marjorie, without looking up. 
“ Marj orle, way do you bo delight In torturing 
I me 7 It la not noble.” 
I “ i don’t profess nobility,” she said. 
In her heart she was terribly perplexed. 
This Rufus Gorse she respected more than any 
human being under the sun, hut she was not sure 
if she loved him quite passionately enough to ac¬ 
cept penury for hls sake. At the Bame time, she 
knew that she could not confess to him that slie 
was Inclined to sell herself to ol d Mr, Peter for 
the sake of position, without feeling a deep sense 
of shame. She knew the lofty contempt In which 
Rufus held such barters ot soul and body. 
"Then you won’t give me your answer to-night, 
Marjorie?” he said sadly. 
All the same, he was daring enough to stoop 
and imprint a light kiss on her white brow. 
She thrilled at the caress ; It was almost the 
flrat he had ever bestowed on her, though he had 
been talking of hls love for her tor the last year. 
She looked up now and extended her hand. 
“Goodnight, Rufus,” she said; “In a day or 
two I will give you my answer. Leave me now t.o 
think.” 
He clasped her hand and walked away without 
another word. 
“ She has some new, strange notion in her 
head,” he said; “somebody, perhaps, has been 
sett ing her against me.” 
For when one Is very much in love, even it one 
Is naturally wise and calm, one Is apt to take all 
sorts of foolish notions into one’s head. 
CHAPTER III. 
Rufus Gorse was only the son of a very poor far¬ 
mer In the neighboring county ; he had a crowd 
of young brothers and sisters; but from hls child¬ 
hood he had manifested a love for books and a 
talent for music. 
He only went at first to the village school, but 
after that Interest was found and he was sent to a 
training-college, and there developed so great a 
musical genius, that he was instructed in the 
piano and organ free of coat. 
Afterwards the humble appointment of school¬ 
master and organist In the village of Barwell fell 
to hls lot. and there he fell madly In love with 
Marjorie Daw—madly, for he would have sacrificed 
himself in any way to win her; and though he 
was ambitious, and had hls grand dream of one 
day making hls mark In the world In the Bbape 
of an oratorio or an opera, he still felt that, the 
brightest crown that earth could offer him would 
be but as a paltry wreath or paper flowers unless 
Marjorie were by hls side. 
Ab for Marjorie, she went into tne house presente 
ly, bright, bustling, as It nothing had happened. 
The Williamses were to stay to supper, so she 
helped her aunt to lay It In the great kitchen. 
Her father, a warm-hearted, simple-minded man, 
came In cheerful and hungry. 
She was chaffed about her Interview with the 
landlord, who had only gone with her Into the gar¬ 
den to see her tull ps. 
" Since thee is such a favorite with the old man, 
lass,” said Thomas Daw, " I wish thee would ask 
him to put a new roof ou to the barn.” 
Marjorie smiled. 
“ So I will,” she said.—[To be continued. 
NEW PUBLICATIONS. 
A Nameless Nobleman.— Boston. James R. Os¬ 
good & Co ., Publishers. Price $1.U0. 
This Is the title of the first volume of the “Round- 
Robin ” Senes of anonymous novels, which is to 
contain works of prominent American writers. 
The nameless author of “ A Nameless Nobleman,” 
while outlining the characters ot the story with 
delicate precision and consummate art, has given 
them free life and movement in a most Ingenious 
and complicated plot, equally removed from sen¬ 
sationalism and from dullness. The scenes are 
laid in Paris and Provence, Quebec and New Eng¬ 
land, and the actors are French nobles and Puri¬ 
tan rustics, moving In the most quaint and pictur¬ 
esque years of the colonial era. The interest will 
not he diminished when It Is known that the plot 
Is founded on the actual traditions of an honorable 
family In the Old Colony or Massachusetts,—a re¬ 
gion where ancestral legeDds are handed down for 
centuries, with religious care. 
The Bohcoii l,in In —A collection of Hymns anti 
Tunet* for Sunday schools By .1. H. Tennkt »ud 
E. A. Hoffman New York Oliver Dltson & Co., 
Publishers. Price 80 cents. 
One more new collection of Sunday School 
songs. Although there are many, the demand is 
large, and new one3 are not Objectionable, pro¬ 
vided they are up to a high standard. The com- 
pliers announce that out ot a large pile of manu¬ 
script, only about one in five songs were chosen, 
as first-class ones lor the book and Its contents 
may therefore be considered as choice. It will 
be noticed that very many of the songs are In uni¬ 
son with the pretty title page and Its motto: 
“ I am the Iagrbt . tha true Light, which lighteth every 
man that cometh iu the world.” 
How Persons Afflicted wlili Rrlght’s Disease 
ought lo Live, By Joseph F. Edwards, M. D., 
Philadelphia ; Presley Blakistoti, Publisher. 
Nothing would seem to be of much more value In 
a physiological point of view than a work on the 
subject of kidney disease. There has been so 
great an increase or (probably more properly 
speaking) development of this complaint that an 
intelligent consideration ot the necessary precau¬ 
tions ol those afflicted should meet with universal 
approbation. Explanation ot symptoms and clear, 
common sense revelation ot the proper mode of 
living is the object of this treatise, and the author 
has succeeded well In the transmission of knowl¬ 
edge. 
We have received a roll of attractive music from 
O. Dltson & Co., and notice in It, first, a song for 
Decoration Day, entitled “Lay the Flowers Lov¬ 
ingly;” a piwerful ballad by Edward Oxentord, 
called “ The King’s Champion;” and one of 
Stephen Adam’8 inimitable Bea songs, by the name 
of “ Ben Lee.” There is also a Waltz for Plano, 
from the new and popular opera, “The Mascot;” 
a rustic dance, “ Les PaysariBand one of Small¬ 
wood’s pretty lesson pieces, “ Jenny of the Mill.” 
With the music we also receive a copy of Dltson & 
Co’s. Musical Record, which Is a standard in the 
way of musical news, and costs P/ per year. 
Shorten of the A rnbinti Niptns— Edited by Sam¬ 
uel Eliot. Bouton: Lee & Shepard, Publishers. 
The stories are authorized for use In the Boston 
public schools. In the words of the preface: 
“ These tales are perhaps Arabian, perhaps Per¬ 
sian, or Indian, In their origin. At all events, they 
come from a different world than ours, and have 
the charm that belongs to highly Imaginative lit¬ 
erature. Their appeal to the Imagination of our 
children Is the reason for introducing a few of the 
best among them Into the schools.” 
Tlipoloarlcnl Unreal,—Discussions In Science and 
Religion. New York A. 8. Barnes & Co., Publish¬ 
ers. Price, iS cents. 
This Is one of the Atlas Series of Essays. Its con¬ 
tents are: Science and Theology—Ancient and 
Modern; Parts I., II.and III., by James Anthony 
Fronde; Conflict of Religion and solence. By Rev. 
E. A. Washburn, D. D. This one, with others of 
the series, Is certainly of great interest, and no 
doubt will he appreciated by the thinking minds 
Short Studies nf Americnn Authors.—By 
Thoruns \V, Hiirurinson. New York : Lee & Shepard, 
Publishers, Price 75c. 
This little book Is a revision of brief papers pub¬ 
lished In “ The Literary World.” Hawthorne; 
Poe; Thoreau; Howells; Helen Jackson and Hen¬ 
ry James, Jr., are the writers considered. This Is 
particularly Interesting. 
Country Love *»n«l City Lite.— By Charles 
Henry St. John. Boston: A. Williams & Co., Pub¬ 
lishers. 
The above is a title of a selection or poems orig¬ 
inally designed for public recitation, but later 
clothed m hook form. We trust the contents may 
be appreciated as much In the new relation. 
MAGAZINES FOR JUNE. 
The American Naturalt«t.— Contents: Archae¬ 
ology ot Vermont; Larval Habits of Bee files; Late 
Explorations In the Gaboon; Pueblo Pottery; Re¬ 
cent Literature; General Notes; Botany; Zoology; 
Entomology; Anthropology; Geology and Pt l eon- 
tology; Geography and Travels; Microscopy; 
Scientific News; Proceedings of Scientific Soci¬ 
eties; Selected Articles in Sclentinc Serials. 
Ancient Works in Nkw York.— There are with¬ 
in ten miles of Watertown, N. Y., many ancient 
fortified village sites, not to speak or those obliter¬ 
ated by the plow. We cannot use tne term mound 
as applicable to this locality, for there are no arti¬ 
ficially constructed mounds found here. One of the 
most marked features la that all these sites were 
fortified or defended with ditches. They are nearly 
all located upon the Bandy moraines of extinct 
Adlrondoc glaciers, or sand-strewn hills. A few 
ftehlng stations along the shores of Lake Ontario 
and Black River Bay are the exceptions, and even 
these are upon sandy slopes. There seems to be 
no uniformity In the shape or construction of the 
lines of defence; one at Black River Bay had the 
ditches In the form of circles, one within the other, 
and a lunette towards the water, with a protected 
roadway to the shore. One In Rutland, on the 
farm of Mr. Gragg, has the trench cut across the 
base of a peninsula, between two forks of Sandy 
Creek, a steep hill serving as embankment ror the 
rest of the lnclosure, and usually the lines iuu 
along the edges of an escarpment. I am Informed 
by several of our elderly inhabitants that these 
lines of entrenchments near our cemetery were a 
mile and a halt long, and some of the trenches 
flve feet deep. Pottery of the usual forms, and 
nearly always broken Into Bmall pieces, Is a con¬ 
stant accompaniment of these for titled sites, and 
and It la generally blackened on the inside with 
charred food, showing that the owners cooked 
with heated atones thrown into the vessels. The 
jar or pot, the most perfect specimens I have met 
with, was dug up lu the town of Rutland many 
years since, and is owned by Mr. J. A. Lawyer or 
this city. Arrow-heads, Btone axes, scrapers, 
knives, hone awls, charred corn, etc., found West 
and south, are dug up from the graves of these 
people, or strew the sites of their homes.—David 
S. Marvin in Am. Naturalist. 
Scribner's Magazine, .contents:—The Rem¬ 
edy : The Farragut Monument; An August Morn¬ 
ing with Farragut; Sketch of the late Earl ot 
Beaconsfleld; Joan of Arc listening to the Voices; 
The Westminster Play ; Some New Berries; Prac¬ 
tical Floriculture; A Fearful Responsibility; A 
Rainy Day with Uncle Remus; Madame Delphtne; 
Fritz; Along the North Shore of Long Island; 
Lobster -Ashing and Lobster Canning; The Largest 
Extinct, Volcano; Poems; sic Semper Llberatorl- 
bus: Farragut; Latitude Unknown; Poems from 
a Scrap-book. 
How New York shoulb dispose or its Refuse 
m atter.— The first idea that suggests Itself to all 
who consider such questions Is that, in the Inter¬ 
est of the people, the immense amount of fertiliz¬ 
ing matter contained In the offjcourlnga of such a 
population as that of New York should be turned 
to profitable account. Experiments lu this direc¬ 
tion have been made and are being made at Lon* 
don, Berlin, Paris, Danl/.lc and elsewhere. Thus 
far, all that has been proven In lta favor la that It 
offers a good means for the purification of the 
effluent. The hope of profit, or. Indeed, of any 
important return for the cost or the work, has 
apparently been abandoned. Possibly at some 
future time a change of the agricult ural conditions 
of the country may enable us to realize this theo¬ 
retical profit. At present the only aim that can 
he pursued with the bopeot success 13 the purifi¬ 
cation or the inoffensive disposal of the effluent 
matters. Their discharge Into the deep water of 
the Atlantic ocean at a point off some unoccupied 
portion of the south Bhore of Long Island, were 
this possible, would be entirely satisfactory. Their 
disposal lu wide surface irrigation on the sandy 
land of the Long Island coast would secure such 
