THE BUBAL 
"Beg your pardon, air," said David, touching 
his forelock In salutation. “ I wish to speak with 
you very particular, yes.” 
With that I took David Into my own room, 
where I kept gun and fishing-tackle. “ Beg your 
pardon, sir," he 3ald, breaking forth suddenly Into 
speech, •* you’ll think me a veiy impudent fellow, 
but do you owe Mr. Trantor any money i" 
“ Not I; why do you ask, David 7” 
“ Well, sir, as I happened to make a call at the 
Skinners' Arms just, now, my cofisln, Hugh Jones, 
came into the bar, not. seeing me, and he said to 
the man he was with, ‘ is It a good job I will have 
at Brynmoor to-morrow ?’ * Capital,’ said Morris 
—tor that was the man he was with— 11 there will 
be a week's possession ami then the sale; and be- 
tween Dr. Tranter and me we will skin the young 
Englishman nicely.’ There's for you.” 
This Morris, It seemed, was ail auctioneer ana 
agent in u small way, bailiff of the county Court, 
and wrecker in general. A burly, downcast-look¬ 
ing man, going about in a silent way, stealthy 
manner; respectful to obsequiousness to persons 
above him In position, but with a hard, cold eye 
that boded ill for any one at Ids mercy. But I 
was In no danger of any process of law. What 
could Morris be tome V Then In am instant I re 
called the fact that, this was legally the reueday 
and that the law accords to a landlord, without 
notice or process, the right to seize hia tenant’s 
effects and take possession ;of his premises. 
“But,” I cried, us all this Hashed upon me, I 
“ Tranter would never venture upon such an out¬ 
rage.” 
"Indeed, he would care little for what was said I 
of him If he could make a trifle; and listen, cap¬ 
tain. 1 neard Morris say that he had taken a I 
fancy to your furniture and means to get It all for 
the half-year's rent.” 
Then l realized for the first time that. I was lu a I 
very desperate position. 1 had only a few pounds I 
in my pocket; everything was locked up In this I 
woeful bank. Tranter had come to the conclusion I 
that I was socially moribund and hoped to have I 
the picking or my bones. To-morrow my cher- I 
lshed home would be in possession or the roughs; I 
and to my poor wife such a shook would perhaps I 
be fatal. What should I do 7 1 1 was a cruel thing I 
to contemplate quietly this Invasion of my home I 
at such a crisis. Surely any man with a heart not I 
altogether or stone, would hold hLs hand If ho I 
knew all the circumstances of the case. With a I 
violent effort 1 overcame my pride, and resolved [ 
that I would humble myself before the man and I 
ask his forbearance. 
“ Walt here, David, "I said, “J may want you;" I 
und I hastily took my hat and went out to Tram- I 
er’s cottage. I thought I saw his face at the win- I 
dow as 1 passed; but whch his housekeeper came j 
to the door, she laughed In my face and denied I ■ 
that he was at home. He had gone out and prob- I 
ably would not be back till the next day. Evi- I i 
dcutly Mr. Tranter had taken precautions not to j i 
be spoken toon the subject. I returned home de- I i 
jeeted and miserable. The housemaid was look- [ : 
lng out for me as 1 reached the gate. Her m)s- I l 
tress waa taken ill; David had been sent to seek I l 
his wife and I must go and fetch the doctor. I < 
At midnight things were still lu suspense. The I 1 
doctor und nurse were in the house, but Jane was I £ 
still in her trouble. The doctor talked cheerfully I 1 
hut looked a little anxious. In one of the Inter- I 1 
vals when he came down stairs for a little re- I 1 
freshment, I told him of the position in which I I 3 
was placed. | t 
“You must keep them out,"lie said, “at all I 1 
hazards. If my patient has anything to agitate I 1 
her, it will be her death.” I 1 
1 took David, who still remained about theprem-1 1 
lues. into consultation. Ho brightened up when I 
1 told him what I Intended to do, and entered I v 
heart and soul into the enterprise. We were to I t 
stand a siege; it was necessary to lay our plans I d 
carefully, and there was short time roe prepare- I to 
lion. At any time after daybreak the enemy I h 
might be upon us. In the first place, as to the I 
outworks—the stable and the coach-house—these I t 
must be locked up and the pony lu some way got I n 
rid of, for It would be Impossible to feed him dm- I n 
lng the blockade. David volunteered to ride oil I b 
with the pony and leave him with a friend up In I » 
the hills, among whose pastures he would be safe v 
from possible capture. Then we must get rid ot I e 
useless mouths. Cook and housemaid must go u 
home for a holiday, aud David undertook to gel I tl 
them out of the house. It would be my business j a 
to look to the Inner defences of the citadel. 
The house was long and low, with a gable at I h 
each end and a covered porch between, in one I e 
of the gables was the kitchen, and the servants' I ai 
bedrooms were above that. ’The other wing con- ai 
talned dining aud drawing-rooms, over which m 
were our bed-room and the guest-chamber, with | lu 
another small-closet bedroom lighted from the I hi 
roor. My own little snuggery was at the back, on b< 
the ground floor. To this room and tin* kitchen I el 
1 determined to confine myself whilst the siege u< 
lasted. 1 went, round the house, therefore, with rc 
gimlet, screws and screw-driver, fastening all the I ai 
windows, securely closing and barring all the U| 
shutters. I murried all the bells in the house, ro 
There was no knocker on the hall door, the upper lo 
part of which was glazed to give light to the hall, tti 
The windows of the upper rooms I> secured lu the ni 
same way, except that of my wife’s chamber and pi 
of the bedroom I occupied myself, the catches ot wi 
which were perfect and closed by strong springs, ra 
The back door I bolted and barred, but. the hall fa 
door I simply locked—this to provide for sudden ni 
Ingress or egress on the part of the garrison, fr< 
Tnese precautions taken, I relt rather easier in 
my rnlhd, and sat down to reflect upon the condl- ch 
tlohs of contest and my relations with the outside tu 
world. qu 
First, as to the supplies. Bread would be mats-1 wi 
ag penaable, and milk. For the rest there was a 
tli quarter of mutton hanging In the larder, and the 
cellar was pretty well stocked with wine and ale. 
n, 1 had almost forgotten the necessity of firing, and 
ur that our coals were kept In a shed outside. Bring- 
to lug this to mind with a start, I took a coal-scuttle 
v, and pall, and brought Into the house as much coal 
I as would suffice for a few days’ consumption. 
David presently returned In high glee at having 
le (saved the pony from the enemy’s hands, ana to 
s, him l confided the dlfilculty as to the bread and 
to milk. The latter he undertook to bring night and 
•e morning In a cun, and at a concerted signal I was 
is to lower a hook and cord from the upper window 
11 and hoist It up. Bread enough for three days’ 
3- supply he undertook to obtain, 
g Night dragged wearily on a long night, of 
trouble and angulHli for my poor wife, of anguish 
a almost to despair on my own part. Shcwaspasa- 
[ t lng through death for my sake, and i could not 
put a hand to her. The doctor’s face grew graver 
y and graver; the nurse, cheerful and chatty at 
3 first, looked ragged and dispirited, .strength was 
f, becoming exhausted, life hung In the balance, 
j and every moment the balance w r as more unfavor 
(, ably Inclined. 
At last, just as gray dawn was breaking, a plp- 
y lug, babbling cry resounded through the house 
l announcing the advent of a new life upon the 
8 earth. 
“ Well,” said the doctor, grasping me heartily 
by the hand, “ It’s a fine boy, and we shall do ex- 
1 ccllentlyuow; only perfect, quietness, and still¬ 
ness, and rest. Nhe wants to see you, but yon 
i must not stop a minute.” 
As 1 stood by her bedside, with her poor fevered 
t hand in mine—and I couldn’t, speak a word, or I 
. should have made a fool of myseir—1 heard the 
gate slam to, and I saw*, t hrough a crevice in the 
l blind, two men coming down the gravel drive. 
. They separated at the shrubbery, and one of them 
j concealed himself amongst the trees, whilst the 
1 otner made his way towards the hall-door, 
"Don’tgo,” whispered Jane. 
“ But the doctor orders It." And I tore myself 
away and hurried down to the door, just In time. 
Tho doctor had gone out for a mouthful of fresh 
air and unwittingly lert, the door ajar. I threw 
myBeLf upon it and it slammed to against the 
ready foot- or Mr. Morris, whose burly form was 
shallowed against the ground-glass panes. 
Rap-u-tap-tap went his stick against the door. 
“ Don't trouble yourselrto knock again,” I whis¬ 
pered through the key-hole, “ tor you shan’t come 
In.” Then warning the doctor of what had hap¬ 
pened, l rau rapidly through the house to exam¬ 
ine the fastenings. The siege had commenced. 
Prom the first moment that covered porch was 
a danger and trouble to the defence. Within It 
our assailants could lurk unobserved, and It gave 
them a shelter from t he weather that I was by no 
means Inclined to afford them. At the very out¬ 
set, all ray plans were nearly frustrated. 1 h t j 
a ringing sound upon the pavement of the hall, 
and running hastily thither, I fouud that the key 
had fallen from the lock and another key was 
hei fig Introduced rrom the outside. My landlord 
evidently kept duplicate keys of the doors, and 
the bafiiff had made use of one of those Uttle in- 1 
strut non ta known to house-breakers, by which J 
the end of a key within Its lock can be seized and 
turned round lrom the other side. I was Just in 
time to place my foot against the door, whilst I 1 
succeded In putting the bar across. My heart X 
beat violently with excitement, and 1 wa 3 tor¬ 
tured by the thought that some forgotten preeau* f ' 
tton might rum everything. But after this.at- : 
tempt nothing more was done; quiet and silence 1 
reigned everywhere through the house. 
I let the doctor out through the drawing-room, 
which I immediately secured. He had undertaken . 
to see Mr. Tranter and try to Induce him to with- t 
draw his men. He presently returned and spoke c 
to me at the window of my bed room. “ No use,” v 
he said, softly, " he’ll have his pound of flesh." 1: 
The day passed heavily enough. At every sound 
t quivered and trembled, thinking that the men c 
had broken in. I paced softly up and down the s 
house, watching at every opening. After some c 
hours Mr. Morris went away, leaving the man on t 
guard—a fellow with a dirty white comforter n 
t wisted round his neck and a battered greasy hat. c 
He forthwith begun to pace the grounds, and as s 
Ue passed ho turned his bloodshot, ferrety eyes to d 
the upper window where 1 sat, aud laughed at tl 
me defiantly. U 
Thankfully i saw the sun disappear behind the p 
bill| and darkness creep over the landscape, e 
Everything had gone well in the sick-room; In b 
another hour It would be safe to open the doors a 
and wander freely about. It was one of those b 
moments suitable for surprises, when vigilance Is k 
lulled by a feeling or coming safety. Suddenly 1 
beard a sound upon the roof, as or some heavy i ti 
body bumping upun the slates. Could they be t\ 
effecting an entrance through the roof 7 Then 1 bi 
bethought me of the skylight in the closet bed- tl 
room, which I Had overlooked. 1 ran to the place ni 
andsure enough, the skylight was open and the le 
Ill-omened face or Morris peering in. Luckily the tl 
room was quite dark, and the man hesitated to m 
low’d* himself down into the seeming abyss, ne 
turned to call bis man, and I seized the opportu- ei 
niiy to spring at the fastening of the skylight and la 
pulled it down, hanging upon it with all my to 
weight. After several ineffectual attempts to 
raise, the men desisted, supposing it securely m 
fastened. This was their last enterprise for the bl 
night. Soon after the men drew off, and J waft tb 
D ee to open the door. 
All was still going on well with mother and bl 
child; but the former had been a good deal dis- ed 
turbed by the noise on the roof; her face was of 
quite fevered and flushed aa she eagerly asked ex 
what the noises meant. -h 
a “A man. come to look at the roof. I sent him 
he away, of course.” 
le. Presently the doctor came. He was not satls- 
ad fled with his patient. 
g- “ There Is feverishness," he said to me, after he 
le had lert the room, " which I don’t like. She must 
al be kept quiet at all hazards.” 
But that, was easier said than done; for now 
)g that the l remediate danger was over, she began to 
to worry and fret about me. Was I made comfort- 
id able and did the servants look after me 7 Had 1 
id had a proper dinner 7 She should like to gee cook, 
vs to glve li er some directions, 
w " The doctor expressly forbids any one to see 
s’ you.” 
"But he shouldn’t interfere m household mat- 
jf ters,” said she. 
h “ Then 1 forbid you,” I said, making a prudent 
3 - retreat to avoid farther rejoinder. 
>t I had a long walk In the darkness, thinking 
■r over what 1 should do. 1 had written to several 
.t friends, on the spur of the moment the night be¬ 
ts fore, asking for a temporary loan to meet tins 
S sudden call; but I had little hope of any favorable 
• reply, and I almost regretted having subjected 
myself to the humiliation of rorusal. My father 
was In India and had trouble enough of his own, 
e for bis fortunes, too, were embarked In this bank, 
e Of course 1 couldn't hold out very long; the men 
would Und a way in at last and all my goods 
f would be seized. Fairly sold, there was enough 
- to satisfy all my liabilities here and give a fiand- 
- some surplus; but. In the hands of these harpies 
i everything would go for an old song, still, ir 1 
could keep them out for a week, til] Jane got 
1 strength enough to rally from the shock, that was 
I all I could expect or even hope for. 
j I reached home w eak and hungry, for I had not. 
.• had enterprise enough to cook anything for my¬ 
self, and had eaten nothing but bread all the day. 
i To my surprise 1 was greeted by a fragrant smell 
> of cooking from the kitchen, und entering, round 
David standing over a capital fire, hla face glow¬ 
ing In the blaze. 
“ Canght some trout for your supper, capta'n,” 
quoth David. Delicious they were, those crisp, 
brown trout, to a hungry, weary tnun. David 
wulted ufron me with gratified pride, and urged 
me to eat still more and more hot from t he pan. 
He had. come to the conclusion, he told me after 
supper—to which he had been prompted by his 
wife—that he must come and look after me and 
assist In the defence of the house, and ho would 
employ his leisure moments In looking after my 
fishing-tackle and trying some particularly killing 
flics for our next, fishing expedition. I was very 
glad or David’s company, for I had felt the strain 
of loneliness and isolation very much that day. 
After supper, David produced a trim Of straw, 
and spread it over the oven and about the floor to 
dry, « 
** What's that for, David 7” I asked. 
“Very likely I sleep in it,”he replied, know- ' 
lngly. 
There were plenty of beds up-stalr,s, I told him; * 
but he went on with his operations with the straw. 
We had a quiet night, but the patient got very 
Uttle sleep at first, being nervous and frightened 
when 1 was out. or her sight, so that I wok my 
rest In an arm-chair by her bedside and, after 
that, she had some refreshing slumber. Daybreak 
brought our besiegers back again; but this time < 
t here were three of t hem, and they carried among 
them something that I wok to be a ladder. 
1 woke David and set him on the alert, and went 1 
over the house once more to see that all was safe. I 
David wok up hl3 position upon a table in the , 
little closet-chamber, with hla head out, of the 
skylight, reconnoltering the neighborhood. Sud- ^ 
denly I heard him close the alcyllght and hurry 
down stairs. "Come along, captrin, ' he cried, £ 
“ I shall show you some fun.” l followed him lnw 
the back kitchen, where there was a wide, open 
chimney, of the old sort. A scrambling sound 
was heard lo the chimney, and the botwm of a 
light ladder appeared, gently lowered down. 
“ Come yon then, boys!” shouted David up the p 
chimney; and with that he put a match w the 
straw, which blazed up fiercely. W p heard a loud n 
cry ot rage and pain, and a quick scrambling up D 
the chimney. David laughed defiantly. “Plenty ^ 
more fire down here,” he cried, and dragged the ll 
captured ladder lnw the kitchen. The enemy 
suddenly retaliated by throwing some water Sl 
down the chimney. But David did hot care for e ’ 
that; he had a reserve of dry straw ready to set a 
Are W ir any farther at tempts were made. They 
presently abandoned any active means to gain an lr 
entrance, aud contented themselves with a strict, 
blockade; but It was a very narrow Thing, that a| 
attempt on the chimney, and if David nad not re 
been warned by the man they had borrowed the 
ladder from, It would have assuredly succeeded. 
It was necessary uow for David to make a sor- i v 
tie. We had not sent, to the post-office during u 
two days, and It was j ust possible that there might 01 
belying there an answer to one or the other of a 
Die letters I hod written- The post-office was five ri 
miles away, and DaYld could not be back In much it 
less than three hours. The fear was, that seeing J;! 
the garrison so much weakened, the besiegers U1 
might make an attack on all sides at once. a: 
But the time of his absence passed quietly 
enough, and David’s honest lace appeared on the 
lawn in front of the house long before I expected ct 
to see it. tb 
“ 1 can’t come In, captain,” he cried, “ for they ° f 
mean w make a rush upon me; but let down a ^ 
bit of cord with a hook at the end, quietly out of 
the window.” mi 
This line of communication, which was lnvlsl- {J-j 
ble to those on the watch, was quickly establish- th 
ed, and David fixed the hook Into a little bundle of 
of letters, which I quickly hoisted up. Two were m * 
excuses from friends—“ Awfully sorry, so very fu 
short, themselves,” and so on. The third, no an 
doubt, was to the same purpose: out whose hand¬ 
writing was It? I tore It hastily open and read: 
“ Dear Harry, just come down on furlough about 
the affairs of this blessed bank. Things are not 
so bad as they said. Tom Brown has Just shown 
me your let ter. Here are £H) in notes to pay the 
rascals off, and I win be down myseir to-mbrrow.” 
■Sure enough. Inside the letter were ten nice, 
crisp Bank of Englaud hy notes. 
I ran aud threw wide open the hall door, letting 
In the blessed sunshine. 
“Are you mad, captain?” cried David, as my 
three foes came rushing down upon me. 
“ Stand off t” I cried, making play with my fists 
and keeping them at a distance. " What do you 
want?” 
“ Flve-and-forty pounds, half a year’s rent, for 
Mr. Tranter, and expenses,” gasped Morris, pre¬ 
paring for another rush. 
“ Here’3 the money for the rent—now give me a 
receipt. No, not Inside the house, ” I said. 
Mr. Morris knelt down on the ground to write 
his receipt. " And expenses, six pounds-ten,” he 
said, looking up. 
“ For which you will apply to your employer.” 
David, who had been looking on, wondering, 
here cut a caper high in the air. Morris drew his 
men away sullenly, and thus ended the siege of 
Brynmoor. 
Next day my father eame down, confident and 
cheerful. T hings were bad enough, but there was 
the chance of something being saved out of the 
wreck, in the meantime, he must 3tay lu harness 
for another five years. Forme he had the offer 
or the editorship of au Indian newspaper that was 
being established at Lahore, an offer which I glad¬ 
ly accepted. And In due time I left Brynmoor 
with all the honors of war, and found myself, 
with my wife aihl babe, embarked for the won¬ 
drous land of India.— Chatntoer's Journal. 
>afrkt| ^Uatottg, 
THE OBJECT OF A LIFE. 
To cat, drink, and bo merry, because to morrow we 
die: 
The Master's talent to bury—a gift laid idly by; 
To scrape with grim persistence the grains of a golden 
store; 
To di it for a bare subsistence, that keeps the wolf from 
the door. 
But whether In purple and riches, we feed on the fat of 
the land, 
Or up to the middle in ditches, live hard by labor of 
hand. 
To wrestle for ease and pelf, in a hungei*of great and 
small, 
Where it's *• Every man for himsell. and God, if He 
will, for us alt,” 
With irre<*d that carries pollution of base and pitiful 
Can this be the true solution, the end and aim of a 
life ? 
I No. Surely sparks celestial the seraphim share with 
I us, 
By instincts coarse and bestial can never be stifled 
thus ! 
And surely within the portals, that bar their brighter 
sphere, 
They yearn for fellow immortals, though groveling 
worm-like here, 
The helping hand to reach us. that guides with tender 
CATC; 
The loving lesson to teach ns. of n holier future there; 
To whisper how fair and ample the fields we husband 
below. 
To tell of the great example, the Man of compassion 
and woe, 
Qf footprints left behind Him in the earthly path He 
trod. 
And bow the lowest may find Him, who straightly walk 
with God, 
Who bend their backs to labor, and bend their knees to 
pray 
In honest love for their neighbor, His one command 
obey; 
Who freely bear for others the burden sorrow hath 
laid. 
Accepting all for brothers that need a brother’s aid— 
Kejoice in the gain resulting from every milestone 
passed. 
And travel the road exulting that brings them home at 
last 
— * » » 
A SAD DEATH. 
All deaths are aad—but that of which we speak 
peculiarly so. 
One of our subscribers, Mr. Jobs Van Dolsen, 
not quite one year ago lert New York City, having 
purchased a beautiful little farm next to the 
writer’s premises, with the view of making it his 
home for The rest of his life. He had reared from 
business, and so was enabled to give his personal 
supervision to tearing down the old building and 
erecting a mansion in keeping with his means 
and the needs of his family. This accomplished, 
his next thoughts were being tin ned to improv¬ 
ing his laud and beautifying his grounds. 
His youngest daughter, perhaps twelve years of 
age, dally attended a school m Hackensack, four 
miles distant, and It was her father's pleasure to 
drive her to and rrorn the station. 
On Tuesday, Feb. 13, he was driving over to 
firing her home. Approaching the track leisure¬ 
ly, havtug beard Die up-traln whistle On Its way 
to the next station, and not considering the possi¬ 
bility that another train should follow so closely 
upon It, he had barely passed over the track when 
a “ wlld-cat” engine struck the back or the car¬ 
riage. turning It over upon the horse, throwing 
Mr, V an DOLstcjf a distance of thirteen feet. break¬ 
ing his collar hone and fracturing his skull. He 
died lo consequence Wednesday. Die aisc Inst. 
Mr. Van Dolsen was possessed of ample means, 
and. though « years of age. enjoyed a vigor of 
constitution and powers or endurance Dial few 
men possess at any age. Captivated with coun¬ 
try life; anticipating, with the enthusiasm of a 
child, the coming of spring; happy In his home, 
that was gladdened by a noble Wife and the visits 
of mauy relatives and friends, he was thus—when 
heart could ask for little vise—snatched away 
from all. 
We write the above in part, Indeed, as a slight 
mark of respect to me memory ot a tender, genial- 
hearted neighbor who inspired naught but kindly 
wishes on every side -but In part, also. Reader, 
that you, though possessed or health and wealth, 
of home and friends, rnav yet be on your guard; 
may yet he ever, ever watchful, lest in one un¬ 
guarded moment all tor which you nave tolled 
through life be taken from you, as autumn leaves 
are scattered by the nret rude wind. 
'1 
