SEPT, l 
THE RURAL NEW-YORKER. 
THE MORNING WALK. 
The Linn-st *nt upon its nrst. 
By Kale* of mornimr sadly pwet 
His irrfvnj witnr and his ffpener breast ] 
Worn damp with dews of morning. 
The dogrose near tbo oalt tree grew. 
Blush’d swelling ’noatli a veil of dow; 
A pink's nest to its prickles grew, 
Right early in the morning. 
The sunshine glittered gold while 
A country maiden cloznb the stile, 
Her straw hat oonldn’t. hide the smile 
That blushed like early morning. 
The lark, with feathers nil wet through, 
Looked op above the glassy dew 
And to the neighboring com-liold flew, 
Fanning ihe gales of morning. 
In every bush was hoard a song. 
On each grass blade the whole nay long, 
A silver shining drop there hung, 
The milky dew of morning. 
Whore stepping stones stride o’er the brook 
The rosy maid t overtook. 
How ruddy was her healthy look, 
So early in the morning. 
I took her by the well-turned arm.) 
And led her over field and farm,* 
And kissed her tender cheek so warm, 
A rose in early morning. 
The spider's lack work shone like glass. 
Tied np to flowers and cat-tail grass; 
The dew-drops bounced before tlie lass. 
Sprinkling tbe early morning. 
Her dark curls fanned among the gales. 
The skylark whistled o’er the vales, 
I told her love’s delightful tale* 
Among the dews of morning. 
She cropped a flower, shook off thaldew; 
And on her breast the wild rose grew; 
She blushed as fair, us lovely, too— 
The living rose of morning. 
<f|)f jltorj-ffUtr. 
say r Do yon think you know—you do, you must 
have guessed, at, least, who It Is that I moan ? 
Tell mo then, havo you not?” 
A sinking head, a heaving bosom confessed Its 
“Yes,” a guilty whisper tried to reach him, 
“No." 
“Haven’t you? And I am just going to ask 
her-” 
« * • « M • N 
“ Aha, Ralph ! old boy 1 Run you to eart h at 
last!’’ _ 
CHAPTER XI. 
“ Aha, Ralph! Run You to Earth at Last!” 
The person from whom this salutation proceed¬ 
ed, was a tall young man, with ralr hair, a clean 
shaven cheek, and a Unt-whltc mustache falling 
“ We are not vlctuatcd for cannibals, But 
lower—“ wait till I see them off. nore, Tom 1 
you remember Chaworth ? Now, look sharp, or 
you won’t get over the rocks to-night! Now, Miss 
Calverly." 
“ Thank him for the salt, quick! ” exhorted 
Tom, us Elsie In silence took her seat In the boat. 
Then, looking up, as they let go, he called out, 
cheerily, “ You'll all como up to-morrow,—won’t 
you ? ” 
“ Who are they, Tom ? " asked his cousin, as 
soon as I,hey were out of hearing, 
“That tall one with the moustache was Cba 
worth. You have heard me talk of him before. 
I don’t know who t.ho other was. Ilow queer of 
Blundell not to tell us ho was expecting them to¬ 
night, ! ” 
PAULINE, 
rcontluucd from page 120, Inat No.] 
How strange that he should persist In teasing! 
Why should he seek to amuse himself with her, 
Just becauso ho could not get Pauline 7 It was 
neither right, nor kind of him; tt was wrong, very 
wrong. And yet, he had called her “ dear.” 
She was stupcilcd, dumb, unlit for contesting so 
close a combat, 
“I say, I’m awfully sorry!” Tom'B voice was 
startling In Its suddenness. “ But I’m afraid I 
havo taken you out, rather further than I meant 
to do. Blake and 1 fell to talking, and he was 
spinning some long yarn or other: I don’t know 
how It came about, but we have put her out In¬ 
stead of In.” 
“ You must take us back again, old fellow, that’s 
all.” 
Tom looked about him for a scat. 
“ You can’t, leave the skipper, now that you 
have got him Into t he scrape," continued Blun¬ 
dell. “ You must stay and chat, with the old boy, 
or you will have him quite savage. He Is looking 
after you now with the tall or hit. eye.;’ 
Tom hesitated and looked down upon the pair. 
His cousin, Sitting forward, her cheek resting 
on her hand, took no heed of him. Her eyes were 
fixed on t he golden sea-line, on the purple bank 
of clouds above, and on the little fleet of herring- 
boat*, whose brown sails showed darkly against 
the sky. She was absent, absorbed; musing 
doubtless on the beauty of the scene, drinking in 
the sweet, warm air of the summer night.. Blun¬ 
dell, lying by her side, was no nearer to her In 
such contemplations than he at the other end of 
the deck; and what a walk home he and Elsie 
would have! 
No one pressed his departure, but the look of 
indolent expectation in Blundell’s eyes was more 
difficult to withstand than words. He went, and 
left the two still silent. 
“ Well?" said the man, at last. 
“ Well, what?” murmured the girl. 
“I have not had an answer to my question 
yet.” 
“You are only Joking. What does it matter? 
Look, do you see those little vessels on the hori¬ 
zon? They are on their way north, for the her¬ 
ring have gone from here. 1 heard some fisher¬ 
men say so yesterday. It Is curious. Is It not, 
that they should come and go, In that way, no 
one knowing wliy, or able even to guess?” 
“ very. Yes. Elsie, I am going to tell you 
something.” 
So then, tt had come at last! 
He was going to tell her now, to connae In her, 
doubtless because he could not keep It to himself 
any longer. She had felt how it would be, how It 
must be from the very first; yet to tell It to her— 
that, she should be the recipient of his love-tale, 
when the love was for another, struck her poor 
sick heart a new, Jealous blow. Could she let 
him go on ? could she encourage the recital ? 
Ah, she must—she must. 
But a few words would be sufficient—one word, 
a monosyllable; and In the end a little quavering 
“ Yes” struggled across her lips. 
“ You send me away from you,” began tbe nar¬ 
rator, In a deep undertone, “ and yet you will give 
me no reason why 1 should go. Now I am going 
to show you the best of reasons why I should not. 
Elsie, do you know that I have seen to-day some 
one whom I can never forget ? some one who 
steals my thoughts by day, and breaks in upon 
my dreams at night ? Do you know that 1 am a 
dull fellow, always looking ou the black side of 
thlDgs, and that 1 am haunted by that little 
merry laugh, those saucy eyes? What do you 
FAITHFUL FItIBNT>'S FHEENDH. 
straight down from Oho upper lip, In the narrow, 
est possible arch. 
simultaneously with his “ Aha, Ralph I ” anoth¬ 
er voice said, playfully, and with a slightly for¬ 
eign »Bcent, “ How do you do, HlendeU ? ” 
Tills speaker was a short, man, with an ugly, 
clever, meditative face; a face from which you 
might gather that he to whom It belonged could. 
In the common phrase, do anything he choose, 
and also, that wlmt he chose to do would not al¬ 
ways bear investigation. 
The countenances of both gentlemen wore a 
cheerful expression, denoting that they had come, 
not because they expected tbelr arrival would be 
welcome, but because they were morally sure It 
would not—a conviction which, when It Is to the 
taste of the individuals concerned, Imparls a de¬ 
lightfully piquant llavor to the otherwise com¬ 
monplace event. 
The look of amazement deepening Into disgust 
upon Blundell's face, the broken ejaculation which 
escaped bis Ups, were compensation for all they 
had undergone to find him,—and apparently It 
was not a little. 
“ We hear of you at Oban,” said the little man. 
“ We hear you are In this dlztrlck. To-day wo 
are at Staffa, at Iona, and we see you with our 
own eyes. We see your yacht, your beautiful 
sails, your charming company on board—we see 
all this so nlze, and so—what you call It?—tantal¬ 
izing ? Is that It, the word ? We see-” 
“ How on earth did you see all this ? ” broke 
out Blundell, staring rrom one to the other. 
“ Do I not tell you ? We are In that steamboat 
which did pass you, two—three hours ago. Oh, 
we have glasses, and we see It. all! But, we come 
not at you. The captain, he Is a brute, he will 
not put us off. so then we must go back with 
him, and get out when we toch—what Is the 
name ? " turning to Ills companion. 
“Oh, shut up!" replied the other. “Ralph, 
old chap,” looking towards Elsie, who had risen 
and drawn back on their approach, “ we did not 
expect to find the company still here; you will 
hardly have room to lodge us If you have a 
party." 
“ Miss Calverly is going ashore in t he boat that 
brought you here; at least I presume you came 
in my boat?” 
“ Oh yes, certain,” resumed the little man. 
“ We see the boat from the shore ; we think they 
fish, and they come when we call. Wo cry ‘ Hal¬ 
loo ! Halloo— 
“ 1 say, aren’t you glad to see us ? ” Interrupted 
the other, with au expressive smile. “ Try to say 
so, It you can, just for civility's sake, you know.” 
“ Shot if 1 am ! ” retorted Blundell, the first 
gleam of good-humour appearing In his face. 
“ Perhaps they came before they were due,’ 
said Elsie, who had good reason ror the supposi¬ 
tion. “How much pleasanter It is to-night than 
it has been all day! Listen to the corncrakes! " 
Going home, she look his arm: she even asked 
for It. “ Tom. 1 am still giddy—I can’t walk 
properly ; let uie take hold of you." 
PoorTom ! As she said It, there came wafted 
towards them the bitter scent of the bog-myrtle 
bruised beneath tbelr feet; and all his life after¬ 
wards he remembered that, perfume. 
For some minutes ufter the boat left, there was 
silence oa tbo Juanita’s deck. It was broken by 
the German, saying softly to himself, with a ser¬ 
ies of running nods towards the retreating 
figures,— 
“ Yes, yes; that Is ve-rle also." 
" Rather a mistake—wasn’t It ? ” said Cha- 
worlh, In his hearty way. •' Awfully sorry, you 
know. We shouldn't have done It upon any ac¬ 
count, If wo had had the slightest Idea; should 
wc, Helnslcht ? Don’t bear malleo, old follow." 
A race or wood could not have remained more 
Immovable than did that of the man under scru¬ 
tiny. 
Adroit evasion, as much us sharp repartee, 
would have been useless. The face said, “ You 
know so much, which I can’t help ; but just find 
out some more, will you ? ” 
“And what atn T to do with you, since you are 
here said Blundell at, last, beginning to recover. 
“ Where are your traps ? ” 
“At Oban; at the big place there. We have 
only cornu down upon yon for the night.. Wo 
sha’nt trouble you further.” 
Ohaworth st roked bis moustacho ceremoniously 
as he spoke, and slightly drew himself up. rt 
was enough. The arrow found Its mark. “ Trouble 
me 7 ” said his friend, quite kindly. “ Don’t be a 
fool, Jack." 
Thus conquered, Blundell became at once tbe 
docile and attentive host. 
In person he bustled over the arrangement of 
their quarters, and tbe preparations for their en¬ 
tertainment; as much, tt seemed, in atonement 
for his previous want of hospitality, as In excuse 
for It. 
It was but a bit of a place, he hoped they would 
be comfortable, but It was their own doing, etc., 
etc. But It end' d with this; whatever he had, 
they were welcome to share. 
The other two, for their part, spalred no pains 
to maintain the good-will at length excited. 
They ate vigorously, drank with moderation, 
and on Blundell’s excusing himself from Joining 
them on dock afterwards, on the pica that he had 
given up smoking, and had letters to write, ap¬ 
peared to bo not. only sensible of the evil effects 
of cigars, but to be on the point of giving them 
up themselves. 
The letters to be written resolved themselves 
Into one short note ; and In two minutes be had 
dashed off the first page. 
"Mv Dkak Lai»y Cai.vkki.ky,— 1 The friends for 
whom 1 have boon walling so long, have at length 
made their appearance " 
Here he stopped to blot, before turning the leaf; 
and on reading out what lie had written, In order 
to catch up the thread ou the other side, sudden¬ 
ly tore the sheet In pieces, “No; bang It! 1 
won’t go, throwing a lie behind me ! ” 
Second noto: 
“ Mv Dkak I.aoy Oai.vkiu.kv,—M y friends who 
arrived unexpectedly last night, are anxious to bo 
off early to-morrow morning, so—’’ 
“ Why, this Is as bad as t.ho other! What am I 
to say ? A fellow must make some excuse.” 
The few bald lines which dually found their 
way to the breakfast-tablo at Gourloch ran as 
follows :— 
“My Dear I.ahy Cai.vkki.ky, Tom will havo 
told you of the arrival of my friends last night. 
Wo arc taking ndvantage of the fair breeze to bo 
off oarly to-morrow, so I am afraid I shall not he 
able to call and thank you for all your kind hospit ¬ 
ality, Should we pass here on our way south, I 
hope to find you still at Gourloch. With kind re- 
membrances to au your circle, believe me yours 
truly, “ R, Bi.riNDKi.r,,” 
“When did this como?” Inquired the lady to 
whom It. was addressed, as she lifted It. from her 
plate. 
“ It was handed Into the lodge a while ago, my 
leddy," replied Davie, hovering about, to hear if 
anything particular were contained in the epistle. 
Lady Calverly looked at. the envelope with curi¬ 
ous Indectslon, aud after several minute’s delay, 
Inquired abruptly,— 
“ Tills morning? " 
“ This rnorntn’ or last night—naebody said,” 
“ What does he say ? ” cried Tom, Impatient¬ 
ly. 
Elsie, In startled silence, thought she knew. 
Pauline did know. 
From her lattice window she had seen the white 
sails hoisted as the dawn was breaking- had seen 
the vessel glide swiftly over a grey sea, whose 
waves wore washing the rocks had seen It he¬ 
roine a mere speck upon the water, then turn a 
point., and vanish ; ami an hour after, there still 
knelt In the same place a motionless figure, whoso 
I'aco was turned upwards. 
“What docs ho say, Aunt Ella?” demanded 
Tom, for the second t ime. 
“Oh, read it, for yourself, my dear,” replied she, 
finding It easier to give this answer than any 
other, and beginning to play nervously with hor 
cups and saucers as she spoke. “ There is very 
little In It,.” 
Tom seized the note. 
“It,cannot be that, then,” thought Elsie; and 
Pauline troubled herself very little as to what tt 
was. She could guess. 
“Cool, that!" said Torn, arid read It a second 
time with the provoking slowness common to his 
sex. 
Then he. Indorsed the Idea. “ I call that, uncom¬ 
monly cool! ” 
No message to him! No not Ice ot Ids Invitation! 
No pretext for a depart ure so sudden! Such con¬ 
duct merited but one epithet it, was “cool.” 
Just as ir they were not good enough for Ills 
friends! No doubt the other fellow was some 
swell; but Chaworth—Cltaworth had always been 
as jolly to him as possible; and, In fact, he had 
been forecasting to Elsie on their walk home the 
fun they would all have together. 
It was a sad home-thrust, to the self-complacency 
of early manhood, ami Tom, In Ills vexation, 
thought not or the feelings or others. This was 
well. 
The color which flooded and then lied from El¬ 
sie’s cheek, tlie dilation of her eye, and the broken 
murmur which fell from her Ups, were unmarked 
by ahy but Pauline. 
Lady CulverJey gave her whole attention to the 
tea-tray, making a hasty assault on the cups. Her 
nlccc was dear to her as a daughter, and with all 
the nobility of love, she would nor, look upon her 
In what might prove a moment, to be forgotten. 
The cream and sugar were put lu ull wrong; 
but with an easy air she dispensed her Clips, nor 
took heed whether the slirn fingers on her l ight 
hand trembled when stretched out,, or no. Nor 
will we. 
But Pauline, apart from her own feelings, was 
sorely troubled about her little cousin. 
After the first shock, which had nearly discov¬ 
ered the state of her heart to all present, Elsie’s 
pride rallied, and boro her up. 
She went through her duties punctiliously, 
Omitted nothing, neglected nothing, and was so 
gentle and considerate towards Tom, that he in¬ 
stinctively felt that there was something wrong. 
“ What Is t.hc matter with Elsie, Pauline? Is 
she not well?” 
“ She has a headache to-day, I know,” replied 
his sister. 
“ So have I. There Is ‘ fire In the air,’ as Altster 
says. I wish It would come here, and clear away 
those yellow clouds. Elsie,” as she entered, “ I’ll 
tell you what you’U do for your headache. Come 
out and sit under the sycamore, and”—great effort 
of the mind—* 1 I’ll read to you.” 
“May I come too7“ said Pauline, afraid that 
the scheme would end In disappointment—Elsie 
being Inattentive, Tom being chagrined. 
The disappointment, however, was of another 
kind. Elsie, too anxious to please, missed the 
mark. She liked It Yery much indeed would like 
to have more, and then—made some excuse to 
slip away. 
