AU8, 44 
THE RURAL WEW-YORKER. 
A SONG OF SUMMER. 
[Always in your darkest hour, strive to remember 
your brwhte*t.-J. p. Richter.) 
Sino me a song of Bummer, 
For my heart la wintry sad, 
That iflorious bright new-comer. 
Who makes all nature triad! 
Sinsr me a sonar of summer, 
Thai the dark from the bright may borrow. 
And t.hn pari in the radiant whole of things 
May drown its little sorrow. 
Sing me a song of summer. 
When God walks forth in light. 
And spreads His glowing mantle 
O’er the blank and the gray of night; 
And where He comes. His quickening touch 
Revive* the insensate dead, 
And the numbed and frozen pulse of things 
Beats music to His tread. 
Sing me a song of summer. 
With Ins banners of golden bloom. 
That glorious bright new-comer, 
Who bears bleak winter’s doom. 
With banners of gold and of silver. 
And wings of rosy display, 
And verdurous power in his path 
When he comes with the pride of the May; 
When he oomea with liis genial sweep 
O’er the barran and bare of the scene. 
And makes iho stiff earth to wave 
With an ocean of nnduiaut groan; 
With flourish of leafy expansion. 
And boast of luxuriant bloom. 
And the revel of life as it triumphs 
O’er the dust and decay of the tomb. 
Sing inn a song of slimmer: 
O God! what a glorious thing 
Is the march of thin mighty new-comer 
With splendor of Jtfo uu his wing! 
W'hen he quickens the pulse or creation, 
And mnketh all feebleness strong. 
Till it spread Into blossom of beauty. 
And burst into pirns of song. 
Sing me a song of summer! 
Though my heart be wintry and sad. 
The thought or this blessed new-comer 
Shall foster the germ of the glad. 
’Neath the veil of my grief let me cherish 
The Joy that shall rush into day, 
When the bane of the winter shall perish 
In the pride and the power of the May. 
®|f j§>torjj-®flltr, 
PAULINE.—PART I. 
[Continued from page 78, last No.J 
Elsie, the first to ridicule herself upon ordinary 
occasions, reddened with vexation, aud drew her¬ 
self pettishly away from her cousin’s protecting 
am. 
“Little Elsie,” began Pauline. 
“ Oh Elsie, Elsie I” cried Tom. “ on fl«, Elsie!” 
“ It was my rault,’ 1 said a kind voice, without a 
trace of amusement In It, •• I ought not to have 
pressed It," continued Blundell, *• but I could not 
bear to think that you were debarred from shar¬ 
ing our pleasure. Miss La Sarto, standing there, 
you reminded me of the Lorelei. You know the 
old legend? it you hud taken your hat off, and 
let your hair down, It needed no more." 
“ Except tnat It should have been golden hair,” 
said Tom, who had often enough sung about the 
“goianes Ram-’ with the wild students there; 
“ and that Pauline would never lure any one to 
destruction. Elsie would make a far better Lore- 
let,” he added, thoughtlessly. 
“ You are—kind," said his cousin. 
“You are unfair to us all,” said Blundell. “I 
had forgotten the purport of the lady’s wishes, 
and only thought of her picturesque attitude. I 
had forgotten the golden hair, too, Tom." 
“Oh, don't apologize; we are not offended: are 
we, Elsie v Quite the reverse. And as for Pau¬ 
line, she knows you meant to be complimentary, 
whatever you might say.” 
Blundell's look said she might, and Miss La 
Sarte caught It, 
“ It is growing late," said she, hurriedly. “ Let 
us come." 
“ And come you along with me, Elsie,” cried 
Tom. You and I will make It up on our way 
home. And 1 won’t tease you, nor bother you 
nor anything,” he added, In more manly tones 
than he had yet spoken. 
They set off accordingly. 
•‘A nice-looking pair,” said Blundell, looking 
after them- “ If It Is a fair question, is she quite 
grown up?” 
“ She would say quite. If you asked her; but one 
ought not to be reckoned very deeply accountable 
at seventeen—ought one ?” 
" It Is to be hoped not,” he answered, with a 
sigh. 
“Oh,”said Pauline, astonished at his taking It 
so seriously, “ I was only thinking of my little 
cousin’s playful ways. She has such bright spir¬ 
its that sometimes, now and then, she may be 
misunderstood. Not, of course, by those who 
know her.” 
' Oh, certainly not. The sins of seventeen don’t 
count for much, any way.” 
(“ Flippant,” thought she. “ I dislike that way 
of speaking.”) 
“ You don’t agree with me?" said Blundell. 
“I think,” said Pauline, with an effort, “that 
you do not mean what you say. You did not mean 
sins.” 
“ Yes, 1 did. We may wipe out the sins of sev¬ 
enteen with a single stroke, I should say.” 
“oh no." 
“No?” 
“ We cannot wipe out one.” 
“Then may God have mercy upon us 1” 
The blood rushed to Pauline’s cheek, and her 
heart, seemed to stand still. What did he mean 
by forcing this strange conversation upon her? 
by this sudden fall from the smooth surface of 
ordinary topics t,o those deep themes which may 
not bo touched but with awe and reverence 7 She 
did not know how to answer, how to speak at all. 
lom’s hints and confidences, was she to distin¬ 
guish t hem from his ordinary ruttle? Had Uo, for 
once In his lire, kept within the mark ? 
Her pulses beat fast, as she took the next few 
steps In silence. 
" I suppose you think me dreadfully profane,” 
said Blundell at last., with a sort of smile. 
“ No, no;” that rendering not haviug even oc¬ 
curred to her. 
“ What then ?” 
What then, Indeed 1 She could not well adopt 
Tom’s phraseology, and state that she had been 
wondering whether he were Indeed “hair crack¬ 
ed" or not. But she was greatly at, a loss; she 
could hardly bring herself to speak. 
At last, •• 1 know you are right," said she. “ It 
is the very root or our religion. But—you took me 
rather by surprise.” 
“You take me by surprlso now. l hardly un¬ 
derstand what you mean." (•• in fact., not at all.") 
“Is not our only trust, In the mercy of God?” 
Haid Pauline, reverently. 
“ Certainly,” 
“Well 7” 
" Well?” 
They looked at each other. 
“ Apparently we are equally at sea,” said he, at. 
last,. “ I had better explain my views. I believe 
that we can wipe out tho faults, follies, sins, If 
you will, or our youth, by a consistent determina¬ 
tion to avoid them for the future, if wo cannot 
do that, 1 say, God have mercy, for there Is no 
hope for us." 
He spoke sullenly in the tone of a man resolved 
to abide by his own Judgment, and his gentle com- 
“ Where did you find them, Elsie7” 
“Where? Right across the path to be sure. 
Only fancy, Tom, they never saw the rawan-tree, 
and we were ten mluutes twisting off the 
sprays!” 
“ We were deep in metaphysics,” said Blundell, 
1 Iglitly. “ You ran away from us, besides,” 
* * * 41 V 41 # 
Pacing the deck under the low-hanging heav¬ 
ens, ere night set In, a restless form might have 
been dimly visible, whose restless spirit thus com¬ 
muned with Itself. 
“So! l have begun already. It Is a curious 
thing now, tills raculty or mine! Go where I will, 
meet whom I rnuy, it Is always Iho same. What 
had 1 to do with the fancies of tills brown-haired 
nun? She Is one of those pure, guileless beings, 
In whoso nature goodness Is Inherent; it signifies 
nothing to her that her creed Is made of gos¬ 
samer. 
“Pah! What, a farce It Is! Do what you like, 
take your All of all that Is going, and then—heav¬ 
en Is ready for you. 
“ I am a dolt to squander sense against non¬ 
sense, In other words to argue with a woman- 
even a pretty one. lly Jove! how splendid she 
looked, with that upward cast or the eye, and 
that.color In her cheek! I must try tho effect 
again; I love to see a brunette burn. 
“ She shall not. move mu though. Fool as I am, 
and fool of fools as 1 have been, there Is a chance 
given to me yet. and as I am a man tho devil shall 
have none of me. That sight, that face—will It 
over cease to haunt me ? • The one shall bo taken, 
and the other left.’ My God! It was Guy—who 
was—taken.” 
“ 11a! what have you got there? What book la 
that? eh? l)ld 1 not, tell you I would have noth¬ 
ing of that sort where I am master? Eh 1 speak 
out! What do you say?” 
In confusion under so sharp and sudden a 
panlon winced, even while she answered steadily J SI ' arp ana sutmen a 
“ That is not tho Christian religion ” T*?’ th “ UtsUn< ‘ uent and stuttered. 
“How not*" religion. „ whatdo you say 7 eh?” 
“llow not?” 
" If O'"' only trust Is In the mercy of God % how 
can we he expected to Justify ourselves in his 
sight?” 
" We must * work out our own salvatlou.’ ” 
" Work it, out through faith.” 
A gesture of impatience. “ la that what, you 
mean? I have seen quite enough of that, sort of 
thing. Faith Is a very easy stepping-stone to 
heaven. If a man does not lead a consistent life, 
ho is very glad to take hold of faith.” 
" I should say ho would be more glad to take 
how or it if he am.” 
“Should you? Ah!” 
“ You are trying to do what- you never can,” 
said Pauline, roused by his slighting tone. 
“What Is that?” 
“ Make yourself fit to appear before your Maker." 
“ i can at least keep myself from being unfit.” 
She shook her head. Blundell set his lips, as If 
determined t,o say no more, and an awkward si¬ 
lence ensued. 
With vacant eyes fixed upon the ground they 
marched along In silence, equally anxious to re¬ 
new the combat, yet each unwilling to take tho 
initiative part. Finally they broke out together. 
“Mr. Blundell—” 
“ M Isa La Sane-” 
The voices ceased as simultaneously and as sud¬ 
denly as they began. 
" This is absurd,” said he. “ Wo need not quar¬ 
rel because or a difference In opinions; and con¬ 
sidering that, our acquaintance only dates rrorn 
yesterday, it is too much to expect that they 
should j ump together all at once. That,” he con¬ 
tinued In a sotter tone, “ we must wait for." 
“Oh no; we need nut quarrel.” 
“By the way, we were more In sympathy yes¬ 
terday, were wo not? We both tried the church, 
and were both driven away by the same cause to 
the same place. How curious to think of your 
being Tom’s sister!” 
“ Dave you known him long?” 
“ I used to have the boys over from school, and 
let them run about the place. Tom was rather a 
favotlte of mine. I have only met him once since 
he went to Oxford, however.” 
“You wish to change the subject," thought 
Pauline. “ Very well.” But before she had time 
to say a word, he recurred to It. 
“ Miss La Sarte, i’ll tell you what Itls. Religion 
does not come easy to a man. There Is no use in 
saying it does. It does not. it goes against the 
grain. A fellow has to set bis teeth hard and 
make himself keep to the right, road, or he will go 
In tho wrong. When a parson—a—a clergyman 
preaches about faith and conversion, and those 
sort of thlhgs to us, he makes a great mistake. 
We want to do something—to take hold of some¬ 
thing—that Is, 11 a man Is In earnest at all." 
“ Then, Mr. Blundell, what benefit do you sup¬ 
pose we derive trorn the death of our Saviour?” 
“ to be saved by It, it we lead a worthy 
life. Surely that Is an easy question? Excuse 
my saying so,” 
" Can any one lead a worthy life?” 
" Certainly. We can lead unworthy ones, at all 
events.” 
"* ^ e Nan will to lead a worthy or unworthy life, 
Mr. Blundell, but the power Is absent, unless a 
mightier Power be working In us.” 
“Possibly. I know nothing about that. A man 
knows which way he Is going, and It la of his own 
free will that he takes one direction or the other, 
There are the others waiting for us,” said he, In a 
tone of relief. 
“ Did you get any berries, Pauline ?” Elsie con¬ 
fronted them with scarlut bunches of the moun¬ 
tain-ash in her hand. * You shall have some of 
mine. 1 knew you would never think of getting 
any for yourself.” 
“It ain’t, a had book, sir, in—Indeed, It ain’t,. 
Look ror yourself, sir. it was so precious slow 
lying out here, all day long, sir." 
The suspected volumo was held up for inspec¬ 
tion. 
“ * The Minister’s’—what, ■ Wooing ’!" read his 
master, with an expression of disgust. “ Pilling 
your mind with rubbish like that! Where is tlm 
book I gave you yesterday ? Why do you not read 
It?” 
“ In—In my bunk, sir.” 
“And there It may remain, I suppose. I might 
have guessed as much. You will come to no 
good, 1 can tell you, Jerry, If you go on like this. 
There Is more mischief done by blackguard books 
of this sort—” 
“ Please, sir, have you ever read it?” 
“I? No, ludeedl” 
“ it’s by a lady," Insinuated tho culprit, eyeing 
the book lovingly, and then looking t,o see what, 
effect the Intimation produced. 
“ What has that to do with It, pray 7 ” 
" Might be more delicate, more properer,’’mur¬ 
mured the lad, with crest-fallen countenance, as 
feeling that he had expended his last shot, and 
missed. 
“ You be hanged 
The piteous expression, and the pitiful apology 
were too much; Blundell buret out laughing, and 
passed below. 
“Therespoke the true blood! That was wild 
Ralph buck again 1" Blake, the captain, had 
hoard the cud of the dlscusslou, and witnessed 
the retreat. “ Blest If I don't jump F my skin to 
hear them good old words pop up, like the cork 
out of a soda-water bottle, when It can’t be kept 
down no longer I Ah, it was different in Guy’s 
time. Bless us, It was different!” 
" It, ain’t, the wooln' Itself he objecks to, d’ye 
see ?” said Jerry, silly, “It’s only the readln’ or 
It.” 
(Whistling.) 
Duncan Gray cam’ hero to woo! 
Ua! ha! the wooln’O't! 
which ancient, ditty ho hud lately picked up In the 
Highlands, and relished extremely. 
Blake paused. “Bo that’s It. Is It?” said he, 
with slow perception. Then, lifting his thumb, 
he Jerked It over his shoulder at, the grey tower, 
which was by this time barely distinguishable In 
the shadow of the hill. 
Jerry nodded. 
“ Whew! We are In for it then, Jerry, an’ no 
mistake!” 
CHAPTER V. 
“Would Compliments Suffice?” 
For the five following days, rainy mist and 
misty rain shrouded both sea and land. 
The offer of a sail in the Juarnta had been made 
and accepted; for Lady Calverley, pleased with 
Blundell’s address, and satisfied with her ne¬ 
phew's assurance that hla irlend was one of the 
best fellows in the world, saw no objection. But 
the dawn, when It broke, Invariably showed the 
same disconsolate prospect, and the expedition 
had to be postponed. 
He must come up to the castle Instead; and 
Tom’s “ You’ll look up In the morning, at all 
events,” was the understood conclusion to every 
meeting. 
“Could anything bo more tiresome?” moaned 
Elsie, when on the fifth day the heavens still 
gloomed as heavily as ever. "He will go away 
soon. We shall never have our day -our delight¬ 
ful day: wo shall look back to this time all out¬ 
lives, and say, like the emperor of old, we have 
lost a day.’ ” . 
“ And It Is so calm, too,” murmured, In gentler 
accents, Pauline. 
added her brother; “Just tho 
light kind of a day for a sail. Not a breath stlr- 
rmg anywhere. We should be lying opposite tho 
Point from morning till night, dunking cham¬ 
pagne and talking metaphysics, oil, Polly?” 
' I suppose there is hardly enough wind_I had 
forgotten that.” 
“Enough? Do you imagine Blundell and I 
would stagnate on tho shore all this time, if there 
had been enough to puff out a namBus-shell ? He 
is regularly stuck bore, that la why ho Isso thank¬ 
ful to come up day after day. Do’ll bo off with 
the first breeze that anils.” 
“ It will bo very mean or him If he Is,” said El¬ 
sie, “ after saying so much about our going. We 
may never lutvo such a chance again.” 
“ 1 ou can’t, expect him to stay fir that. He Is 
on hla way to the Lowes, and only put, In here for 
the Sunday. Ha is as strict as a parson about 
that, you know—a precious deal stricter than 
many a parson would he. too. 11. Is or no uso Aunt 
i'.lla’B asking him! a dinner yq Sunday, by tho way 
—ho would have to do penance half the night af- 
fnn It. »• 
"I wish ho would take me off with him," began 
Tom, after a pause, during which he had been, 
whittling most Industriously. “ How Jolly It would 
be!” 
silence. 
“ That Is to say,” he relented, “ fora week or so. 
of course l should comeback hero again. Why 
do you look so grave, Elsie?" 
“ It would be such a disappointment,.” 
“ Would It ? Would It really, Elsie?” 
“So few yacts ever come here; and the ones 
that do, never belong to people wo know. Anu 
now when mamma Is quite pleased and willing— 
she is going herself lr her cold Is no woree-it Is 
rather hard." 
“ J am sorry for you," Bald Tom—“ you will bo all 
the more easily pleased.” 
“ Tom I What do you mean?” 
Pauline knows, 8he, like a wise woman, Is 
content to ‘ take the gifts the gods provide ’ her, 
arid ask no questions.” 
Elsto looked from one to the other, scanning tho 
two faces, between which there was so strong an 
outward likeness, so mile real resemblance. 
There was tho sumo rich russet-brown hair, 
deep-set eyes, delicately-cut nose and chin, and 
warm color in the cheek—but here It ended. It 
penetrated no deeper. It was lost In the expres¬ 
sion of the eye and Up lost in every word and 
thought. 
They might, have been taken us two distinct 
types of the race from which they sprang. 
Earnestness, sobriety, aud elevation of purpose 
distinguished the sister; Instability and careless 
ease characterized the brother, it was Impossible 
that there should he sympathy between them; 
but there was a perfectly good understanding. 
Tom was fond of his slater, and proud of her, even 
while ridiculing her scruples, and disregarding 
Buch geutlo admonitions us she occasionally 
sought to administer. He was fonder still of El¬ 
sie. An unkind word from tier cut him to the 
heart. Her presence made him a man. 
The three were assembled In the comfortable 
old-fashioned library, where, when alone, they 
usually spent their mornings. 
The visitor who had dally Joined thorn of late 
had not yet appeared; and so agreeable had been 
Ids society, so thoroughly had he contrived In that 
short time to become one of themselves, that they 
were at a loss what, to do without, Min, 
Some time had passed without Pauline’s taking 
part. In the conversation. 
She was musing with troubled eye and flushed 
cheek, until roused from her reverie by a sound. 
“And here lie comes!” said Tom, significantly. 
“ Here he comes 1” 
" Oh, here he comes 1” echoed Elsie. “ Here he 
comes, Pauline!” 
Pauline could not Imagine what they meant. 
How should Mr. Blundell keep them In order? 
What could make Tom so absurd ? Mr. Blundell 
was no very good example for any of them. Idling 
away his time, as If ho had nothing In tho world 
to do but, amuse himself. Tom would uever settle 
to anything till he went; and Tom had promised 
so faithfully to read, during this term. 
Which of the schools was ho going in ror ? 
Tho conversation was quite edifying to listen 
to, when Mr. Blundell came In, to take his part, 
and be appealed to, and have his opinion dis¬ 
cussed. 
Then came the walk, and Tom’s whisper to Elsie 
to let Blundell and his Lorelei go first. 
“ Aunt Ella Bald we were to be sure to let her 
know 11 he came, you know, Elsie, to be proper, 
and that; so, as we haven’t done that, we can 
sen/l them on In front, and you and I can mount 
guard behind." 
“Oh, nonsense!” 
“Not nonsense at all. I know that was what 
she meant. She told mo to be sure to let her 
know. 1 said,‘All right,’and bolted. Now this Is 
how I make It ‘ all right,' you see.” 
“ She won’t be pleased, Tom.” 
I can't go back for her now." 
“Let us go on with them, then.” 
" Go on with them I What should wo do that 
for? They don’t want us. and we don’t want 
them. Wo have far better fun by ourselves. Now 
I’ll tell you all about wbat 1 am reading for. It’s 
all boBh what Paulino says, you know, about my 
not passing; 1 mean to go at It, when I go back, I 
can tell you. Now, are you attending?” 
When they came back from the walk Dr. Ma- 
cleay had arrived, aud was in the drawing-room. 
He was a man or remarkable appearance. In 
person tail and spare, his features, naturally 
striking, wore rendered still more so from being 
shaded by a profusion of snow-white hair, which 
also softened the effect of a skin somewhat 
