THE BUBAL HEW-YOBKEB 
but it is so confoundedly disagreeable to be inter¬ 
fered with at. every moment.’ Just when all the 
world Is standing looking on atone part of the 
ground, you know, to have to go running about 
all over the place In search of your ball! Itrcally 
Is too bad, sometimes! 1 used to get awfully sat 
upon at croquet, Miss La Sarte. ’Pon my word 1 
did," 
“That Is over now—isn’t It?” She tried 
speak pleasantly, tried to smile, and do her part 
an became a well-mannered young woman ; but 
It was hard work, for reasons not difficult to Im¬ 
agine. 
He was satlslled, however, and recommenced. 
“ It Is one comfort that there are such a lot of 
balls at lawn-tennis. ” 
“ Yes—mere arc—there ought to be a number 
always.” 
“ only nobody seems to care how they send a 
ball at you, It Is up about your ears all In a mo¬ 
ment, beforo you know It’s off. And then they— 
they expect you U> send It back again, you know," 
to Charlotte Jerrnyn, on his other side. 
“ Do they V Actually ? * said she. 
*• They ought to send It fair—oughtn’t they ? 
They ought to give a fellow a chance of seeing It 
coming towards him, instead of whizzing It over 
the net, within an Inch of the top. I always send 
my balls a good long way up. There Is nothing 
more stupid than people trying to show off, and 
making themselves disagreeable. Especially In a 
game.” 
“ Who was it, now, Mr. Fennel ? Homebody 
lias been maltreating you, 1 know.” 
But Mr. Fennel was prudent, and would not re¬ 
veal Ills persecutors. 
He had no desire to converse with Charlotte, 
and had already begun to be fascinated by the 
fair lady on his right hand, wherefore lie turned 
again to her. so far, ho certainly could not be 
said to liave gained much of her attention ; but 
attributing this to maidenly bashfulness, he es¬ 
sayed to overcome it. 
Pauline had been silent, thinking on what she 
had heard before tills chatterer began. 
Hhc had half expected to meet Blundell himself 
this evening. 8he had almostlooked forward to 
the meeting, so strong was her resolution to face 
him with the same smile wherewith she had bid¬ 
den him “good-bye,” to chut with him easily, an¬ 
swer bis questions with indifference, and recall 
remlnlslcenoes with spirit. 
It had been a relief to find the party complete 
without him: but, perhaps, It had been something 
of a disappointment also. 
Hhe was so anxious t-o test her courage; nay, 
more, to prove to him that If he had suspected, 
It he ever could have suspected—pshaw! sus¬ 
pected what? Was It likely that he would for a 
moment contemplate such an absurdity, as that, 
there had been found, not one, but Duo—two, so 
Inordinately simple as to mistake the meaning of 
a few common compliments ? 
For Elsie, poor Impulsive child—for a girl of 
seventeen, who had Been nobody, and had been 
nowhere, It was a trifle; but for Jusr, In all the 
dignity of her twenty-one years—she could but 
blush to tbluk of It! 
Well, she would stand before him now, and let 
her face dare him to Imagine anything so wild 
and fabulous. 
Oh, how nicely she would talk about their pleas¬ 
ant. meeting, their charming sail, the fine weather 
which had preceded hls stay, and which had re¬ 
turned to them Immediately after hls departure! 
She would not make the two years which had 
passed since they met., excuse for any lapse of 
memory’, ltat,her, she would have It nil f resh be¬ 
fore her (as indeed It was,) She would playfully 
assure him, that, whatever he might have done, 
they had good cause to remember hls visit. He 
had Inflicted on them loo many stay-at-liomo af¬ 
ternoons. Never before or since had such rain 
been soon at Gourloch, and he had taken It away 
with him when ho went, lie was undoubtedly 
the “ Flying Dutchman.” 
After t.hts neat and happy opening, to all of 
which he would of course make suitable rejoin¬ 
ders—they could slide Into an easy vein. Conven- 
ventloual topics would follow, and the worst 
would be over. 
They might meet, afterwards, as Often us a small 
neighborhood rendered probable; she would not 
care. 
“Do you hunt at, all!”satd Mr. Fennel. Ue 
had llnlshed hlspafe, and was unwilling to remain 
longer silent. The pale had claimed hls attention 
at.the moment, when he was turning from Char¬ 
lotte to Paulino, and he had found It good. 
Pauline started. Why could he not let her 
alone, this little rabbit-faced man, with hls head 
half under the table ? 
“ No, 1 don’t,” she replied, snappishly. 
“Do you ’’—slowly— 1 ' skate ? ” 
“No.” 
“ oh ? ” 
A pause, In which, “ oh dear, Mr. Jerrnyn, I 
had never heard that, before ! ” “ Did you know 
the Boorhams, Lady Finch ? ” “ Miss Willough¬ 
by says the hounds were quite at fault.” “Ha! 
ha! ha ! Did you hear that, ma jor ? ” were audi¬ 
ble 1 u bass and treble notes up and down the 
table. 
Pauline had a moment’s respite. Then, “ Why 
don’t you hunt ? ” resumed the little man by her 
side. 
“ I don’t think I care for It.” 
“ But you could, It you tried. That's to s„y un¬ 
less you are nervous. 11 won’t do to be nervous, 
you know; but I am sure, ’with hls little eyes 
bent tenderly upon her—“ I am sure that you 
are not nervous, Miss La Sarte ? ” 
Whether or not, ho was never fated to learn. 
A loud, passionate voice had risen above the 
others, and the broken utterances, audible to all 
at the lower end of the table, had deafened Paul¬ 
ine’s ear to hls tasteless prattle. The speaker 
was sir John Finch. “ Ho is a disgrace to the 
neighborhood ! That is what I think, aidl I don’t 
care who hears me ! What are you knocking mo • 
Under the table for ? ” In an angry aside to hls 
son (whom a disarrangement of the dinner-table 
had placed by blsslde.) “ I will say what I think 
in my awn house.” 
“Do be quid, sir, for your own sake.’ Dolly’s 
still lower reply Was just, heard, and no more. 
He was red wit h vexation, and hung lbs head 
over the plute before him. 
“ For my sake ? For v'hose sake? ” cried the 
old man, nervously cl.ihp: g and unclasping hls 
hand*, ami glaring from ride to side. " it l» not 
for my sake. I can tell you. Tchlclc! let me 
alone 1 can’t you v I say, I am sorry he has ever 
come back; and 1 hope, whatever other people 
may do, that no son of mine-” 
“ Major Soames,” said Dolly, loudly, “ were 
you -ah—did you, ah -how did you get out of that 
slough after all ? It was rather a nasty place to 
get Into, wasn't It ? ” 
Bui; of whom had they been talking? Who 
was It the father would keep from hls son ? For 
whose return was he sorry ? 
l)o what, she would, Pauline could not rid hcr- 
selt ot the foolish idea, that If a name had been 
mentioned, It would have been that of Blun¬ 
dell. 
Absurd, was It not ? Ho absurd as to rouse her 
Indignation. Supposing that It had been, what 
then wus the meaning of If ? He might Indeed— 
she could not say—she supposed It was not un¬ 
likely that at one tlmo or other of hls life he had 
not been all he ought to be. He had lived as 
other men or the world live. 
It, was sad, of course—terribly sad. But the 
follies of youth, renounced and forsaken, were 
they to bo held over him tor the term of hls 
life? 
lie was no longer very young, he had spoken of 
them with repugnance, with resolution to . ., 
“ But 1 suppose you like dancing ? ” The voice 
was that of her tormentor. He bad still hope; 
the persistent little countenance shone with a 
new inspiration. Hhe did nOL luint; she did not 
skate; she responded but coldly to suggestions of 
lawn-tennis, and once-honored croquet; but 
dancing ! he had about hit It now. Every girl in 
her heart liked dancing. 
“ Surely you like dancing, Miss La Sarte ? ” 
“I /mb*It.”said Pauline. 
Charlotte Jerrnyn, on hls other side, laughed 
aloud. 
“ Why do you not try to find out my tastes, 
Mr.Fennel? I hunt, and I skate, and I dance; 
and you have never so much as taken the pains 
1 V J - 
“ Because—because 1 know you do, Miss Jerrnyn. 
And 1 couldn’t ask you when 1 knew It already— 
could I, now ? Besides where would ho the use ? 
You are rather sharp upon me now, you are in¬ 
deed.” 
“ Oh, that was It, was It ? But then, when 
yon hav© once ascertained what Miss La Harte’s 
Inclinations tend to, will you never speak to her 
afterwards, either? Because, It that Is to be 
the way, I can tell you at once, to save all further 
trouble on your part, t 'will ntrnlsh you with 
a complete list ot ucr likings and disliking*, - the 
dlsllklngs will swell the list considerably, Judglug 
from to-night’s experience. Now, will you accept 
my offer ? it is very good-natured of me to make 
it; ana l only behave so generously to you out. of 
consideration for the valiant efforts you ;uave 
been making all through dinner, and lor the 
scanty success with which they have been re¬ 
warded. Now you shall have time and peace to 
enjoy your olives. You don’t, really care tor talk¬ 
ing, l know, tnougn you arc such a good talker.” 
The little man saw he was laughed at, and hls 
eyes shot Are. 
“ When I do talk, Miss Jerrnyn, i like, if you 
please, toohoose whom l win talk to.’, 
Haying which he turned hls shoulder upon 
her. 
Charlotte colored with mortification. She knew 
the man to bp a fool, and had not been by any 
means delighted to And her sell conducted by 
him to the dining-room ; but she had not chosen 
to be neglected, even by Mr. Fennel. 
She had carried this too far. Hhe had bee 
more completely put down than she had ever 
been in her life before, and that by the last per¬ 
son in the world from whom such a rebuff might 
have been expected. 
In silence, therefore, she drew on her gloves, 
and followed the other ladles to the drawing¬ 
room. 
CHAPTER XVI. 
A Slight Mistake. 
“ Charlotte, my love, do come and look at 
these beautiful prints.” 
Mrs. Jerrnyn, trying hard to keep her looting 
on the outer edge of the level of the company 
was painfully aware of what a narrow and un¬ 
comfortable edge It was. 
She, too, had had her vexations In the dining¬ 
room. Her petty pride had been wounded. No 
precedence had been given to her. 
Tills, to a nature which loved to dwell on tribes, 
which made much of small distinctions, meant, a 
great deal. 
Undoubtedly, she argued, Mrs. YVyndham had 
been something above her husband In the social 
scale; but Mr, Wyndham had been Mrs. Jerrnyn's 
brother, and ills widow need not have been placed 
so very rnucii.above hls sister.£There was Camilla 
escorted In by a general, and there was Mr. Jer- 
myn’s wife left to hls aide-de-camp. 
Camilla smiling and Jubilant; Camilla chatter¬ 
ing like a magpie; Camilla Joked about liqueur i 
No one had encouraged Mrs. Jermyn's chatter, ; 
and her aide-de-camp, unjust youth, had been J 
sulky. There had been defaulters,—a note had I 
been handed in just before dinner,—and la the 
consequent, readjustment of the table, he felt 
that he had suffered. Lady Finch had not been 
happy in her selection. 
Nor had the unfortunate lady, on whom hls 
spleen vented Itself, the comfort of perceiving 
the rest of her family fare better. 
Hhe had noted the neglect of her daughter, 
whose clouded brow openly betrayed it. As to 
her husband, provocation In that quarter was 
chiefly contlncd to the fact, that, while of no im¬ 
portance to anybody, he appeared well satlsAed 
to be ignored. 
Impatiently she waited for the move, but her 
expectation that a change of scene would pro¬ 
duce happier results seemed in danger of remain¬ 
ing unfultllled. 
Lady Finch escorted two young mothers up¬ 
stairs to sec Juliet’s baby—her own first grand¬ 
child. Juliet adhered to Miss La Harte, the sweet 
stranger-looking girl. Mrs. Wyndham and the 
general's wife comfortably Ailed the sofa In the 
chimney-corner; and the Jermyns were again 
lett out in the cold. 
“ Are they not tsgutitte 5 ” 
Charlot te had obeyed the call, and the appeal to 
her t aste was made as she stood by her mother’s 
chair. Mrs. Jerrnyn was sinking under the weight 
of an enormous folio, which with one hand she 
endeavored to prevent sliding off her knee, the 
other being occupied with her coffee-cup. 
“There was one a few pages back,” continued 
she, " with such a lovely light upon it; I think It, 
must, have been a Tumor. Not that.one—no, that 
was not. it; It. was not so far back as that.” 
“ oh, bother the book!” exclaimed her un- 
sytnpathlzliig companion. "You will let It. fall, 
mamma, or spill your coffee, or something else. 
What made you take up such a great lumbering 
thing 7" 
“My dear! Lumbering ? It Is rather heavy ; 
but It, Is a most magnificent volume; and you 
know how devoted l am to pictures of all kinds.” 
“ Photographs will uo then. Here, take this 
Instead,” said Charlotte, handing her au album. 
“ Give me that mountain of a book. 11 was never 
meant to be taken off the table.” 
“ Perhaps one could enjoy It better thcro.” Mrs. 
Jerrnyn still persevered In her pleased and Inter¬ 
ested smile. “ Perhaps a little thing like this Is 
more easily held. Thank you, Charlotte, now we 
can look them over nicely together. Who is this, 
I wonder?” 
“No one you are In the least likely to know, 
mamma. Pass on, or we shall be nil night about 
It.” 
“ How impatient you are, my dear! Oh, there 
Is dear Lady Finch! How very delightfully good 
that is! Herself, exactly as she looked at din¬ 
ner! And Sir John! Capital! Nothing could be 
more- Dear me! Is It Sir John ? Look, Char¬ 
lotte. Dress does alter one so! ir-” 
“ Would never turn that old gentleman Into Sir 
John Finch,” said Charlotte, with an irrepressible 
laugh. “ Mamma, how cith you he so- Don’t 
you see Ids lmt, and Ids stockings. If you look at 
nothing else? That Is the old dean, Lady Finch’s 
father, who Is over eighty. No more like Sir John 
than 1 am 1”—[To be continued. 
-- 
THE ADIRONDACK REGION. 
BV L. A. KORKRTS. 
The Northern and Northeastern portions of the 
State of New York are for the most part, rugged 
and mountainous to such an extent as to have 
checked the march of improvement, leaving a 
large territory In nearly the same condition as 
when the aborigines held undivided possession. 
The section of country, known as the Ad iron dec 
Keglon, the Wilderness, or the North Woods, may 
be defined as commencing at a point about ten 
miles southwesterly from Plattsburgh, and run¬ 
ning thence south to Luzerne then westerly to the 
western line or Herkimer county, thence along 
Sflld line northwardly and to llio center of Saint 
Lawrence County and thence to the place ot be¬ 
ginning, comprising an area of more than live 
, thousand square miles, being as large os the 
whole State ol Connecticut and greater in extent 
than Delaware and Rhode Island taken together. 
Some ol the settlers of the interior object to hav¬ 
ing the name applied to this whom territory, 
claiming the Adlrondae proper, extends no further 
than the line just within which they still trap 
bears, but as this would seem to bo a movable 
boundary we prefer to adhere lo that given as 
above. 
The whole section is subdivided for convenience 
of reference, but of course these subdivisions 
have no dehnlte limits. The Saranac Keglon, the 
St. Regis Wools, the Oawegatohle and Grass 
lliver Region, the Chatatupie Woods, the Jiaquet te 
and Long Lake Region, the Lake Pleasant Region, 
the Hudson River Region and the Adlrondae 
Keglon are all named from prominent lakes, 
peaks or ri vers within their territory. The John 
Brown tract, containing 2io,ooo acres, is named 
from a Providenco gentleman who purchased it 
about 1702 with intention or establishing a settle¬ 
ment there and not for the John Brown of Os- 
sawatarute and Harpers Ferry fame, as is some¬ 
times stated. 
We find, commencing at the Mohawk valley, 
six mountain ranges, that run, nearly parallel, In 
a northeasterly direction Increasing lu size a* 
they ; lvance. These ranges sire for the most 
part from five to eight miles apart, but are not 
always continuous, and In some places their 
spurs or offshoots interlock each other to such an 
extent as to render It, difficult to determine to 
which range ft particular peak may belong. In 
other places they arc broken through by valleys, 
which In their turn nre Interrupt ed by single moun¬ 
tains of sufficient, size to All the intermediate 
space between the ranges, lifting their heads far 
Into the azure blue above. These Isolated moun¬ 
tain masses seem te have a direction Ddarer 
north and south, thus standing obliquely to the 
ranges to which they may be supposed to belong, 
and rising In peaks far above the general altliudo 
of the ranges, give to the country that, romantic 
and alplnct character for which It Has become so 
w idely known. 
This peculiar arrangement, by its Interlocking 
of the mountains, form Innumerable valleys, In 
which are found the multitude of lakes and ponds, 
Which form one of the most attractive features 
of the region. 
Thu most easterly of these six mountain ranges 
is known as t.lio Luzerne or Palmerston Range, 
the northern end ot which Is at Mt. Defiance near 
Tlcondcroga on Lake Champlain. In one of the 
valleys of this range, one hundred and fifty feet 
above Lake Champlain, lies embosomed tiie clear 
waters and beautiful Islands of Lake George, 
admitted te be one of the most delightful lakes in 
the world. 
Next, westerly from this range, aro the Kaya- 
dcrosseras, which strike Lake Champlain at 
Crown Point terminating in a cliff that overlooks 
Bulwagga Bay from an attitude of l,»oo feet. 
The highest peaks In this range are In Sehroon 
Township, the most lofty or which Is Mt. Pharaoh 
whoso summit Is nearly 4,uuo feet above tide 
water. 
The third range Is known as the Hchroon Moun¬ 
tains, In which Is the beautiful lake of that 
name. 
The fourth range terminates In the high bluffs 
at, Wlllsborough, or Peru Bay. In this range are 
Dlx Peak, Boreas Mountain, Nipple Top and 
other well known peaks. 
The fifth range cuds at Trembleau Point on 
Lake Champlain. This, the largest north of the 
Mohawk, was early known as the Clinton Range 
and Its remarkable groups of hlgb peaks was 
called the Adlrondacks, which name has now be¬ 
come attached te all the surrouudtng country. 
Mount Morey, formerly known as Tahawus, the 
highest peak of the group Is 5,403 reel In hlght, 
and Is the highest point, In the State. Also be¬ 
longing to this group aro McIntyre, Hantanonl 
and coiden—each nearly 6,000 feet high. 
Northwest of the Adlrondacks, tending In the 
same general direction, and scattered over a 
large extent of country, are various groups of 
mountains not forming what can be properly 
called a range, but widen tor convenience are 
designated the A usable Range. To those groups 
belong Mt. Seward, White-face, Saddleback and 
others. 
Still further, to the west and north of these, 
gradually diminishing In size, are other groups 
which extend to the Black and St. Lawrence 
rivers. 
While Mount Washington exceeds In bight by 
some hundred feet the most lolly peak of the 
Adlrondacks, taken as a whole the Adlrondae 
group are loftier than the White Mountains, and 
excel them In the variety and loveliness of their 
natural scenery. And, besides, the summit of 
Mt. Washington Is nearly always shrouded by 
dense clouds, t he t ourist who Is so fortunate as to 
get a clear view thererrom Is the exception 
ralher than the rule, while the Adlrondacks, 
rising through an atmosphere of almost perfect 
transparency, seldom disappoint one who as¬ 
cends them. 
Thelakesof the Adirondack's, which are counted 
by hundreds, are surpassed In beauty by those ot 
no other region, while the peculiar formation of 
the country before referred to, renders the whole 
section of easy access. In the very heart of the 
Wilderness, we find, a general watershed, from 
which streams now In every direction. 
From a point a little above the western extrem¬ 
ity of Saranac Lake, three great valleys diverge— 
one to the northeast, towards Plaltsburg; one 
northwest, towards Potsdam; aDd one southwest, 
to the junction of Ihe Mooee and Black Rivers. 
In these valleys lie most ol the lakes, which are 
readily divided in five groups, viz.,—the Saranac 
Lakes, comprising a largo number ot l ikes and 
ponds—of which Saranac Is the largest—that dis¬ 
charge their waters through Haranac River Into 
Lake Champlain, at Phutaburg; the Hudson Riv¬ 
er group Just lying to the south and southeast of 
the Haranacs which, although widely separated, 
all contribute, to make up the Hudson Elver; the 
Fulton group Includes the chain of eight lakes— 
Moose Lake, etc.,—In which are the head waters 
of these rivers that uniting, form the Moose Riv¬ 
er; the Paquette Lakes, including, beside the 
lake of that name, Long Lake, Blue Mountain 
Lake, etc., whose waters How northwesterly 
through Briquette River Into the St. Lawrence; 
t he St. Regis Lake, Including Follenby's, Osgood’s, 
and many ponds auu rivers which find an outlet 
In the St. Regis IUver that empties Into the St. 
Lawrence a little below the ltaquette; and a col¬ 
lection or sunnier lakes, the principal being Smith 
and Salmon Lakes, out of which flow streams 
terming the Beaver River, that flows westerly 
through the “ John Brown tract ” and empties 
Into the Black River. 
One noticeable peculiarity ot these valleys Is, 
the short distances between the lakes terming 
the head waters or streams that run Hi opposite 
directions. For Instance—from the eighth lake 
of the Fulton chain to Eaquette Lake, is but a 
mile and a quarter, but the waters from the one 
flow southwesterly to the Black River—of the 
other, northerly to the St. Lawrence. From the 
southern end of the Adirondack Pass is. aes the 
