MAY 18 
THE RURAL NEW-YORKER. 
literal Jr gtisreKairg, 
THE COURTIER AND THE KING. 
A courtier oneo made free to bring 
A cup, and compliment to bis king, 
Said he, “ Your majesty, behold ! 
Your nobles' love condensed in gold; 
Each blazing jewel is a token. 
Of praises they have never spoken,” 
“ God bless them all,” replied the king,' 
“ And now niy sparkling Sherris bring 
I drink" said he," to the unknown 
Who mined this metal for the throne; 
The artisan who made it shine. 
And graved thereon the royal sign; 
The lapidary who could 
These gems in Btarry loveliness! 
For kings and thrones till kingdoms end 
On noble labor must depend.” 
[Fletcher Hates in Transcprlt. 
-♦-•--*- 
THE COUNTRY COUSIN. 
“Mamma,” said Sophy the next morning, “do 
let us give a party. We must have one before 
Maggie leaves; and we had much better have It 
early, bo that she may come In for the return 
invitations.” 
“I don’t think Maggie cares for parties,” 
observed Mr. Harrison, looking kindly at her 
over his newspaper; “ besides, it Is full early yet 
for quadrille parties.” 
*' Oh, but If we have it at once it will be done 
with,” said Sophy; “ and as for Maggie’s not car¬ 
ing for parties, you are quite mistaken, for she 
Is as fond of dancing as any of us.” 
“ Yes, dancing, perhaps. Well, as you like,” 
said Mr. Harrison* “But what does mamma 
Bay?” 
“Oh, I’ve no objection In the world,” replied 
Mrs. Harrison, who was as fond of gaiety as her 
daughters; “so get your desk, Sophy, and make 
out a list of names.” 
Sophy was soon hard at work, while Mr. Har¬ 
rison, to escape the discussion as to who should 
and who should not be Invited, took up his hat 
and walked off to his counting-house. 
“ Mamma," said Sophy, as she reached the end 
of a tolerably long list, “ let us Invite young 
Hamilton; I thought he seemed particularly 
anxious to Improve our acquaintance yesterday.” 
“ So I thought, Sophy,” answered Mrs. Harri¬ 
son, sagely nodding her head; “ If we can only 
manage It; but your papa has such odd notions. 
However, we must see what can be done.” 
But there was no need for Mrs, Harrison’s di¬ 
plomacy, as Mr. Hamilton found an excuse for 
calling the next day, and made himself so agreea¬ 
ble to the master of the house that he readily ac¬ 
quiesced in the proposed invitation. 
CHAPTER II. 
During the time that Intervened before the ball 
little else was talked about., and Maggie grew 
thoroughly tired of the subject; but She had yet 
to learn how much there Is of practical discom¬ 
fort In a large party at the house of pretentious 
people. The preceding day was a scene of the 
wildest contusion. Beds were taken down and 
carpets taken up, that supper might be laid In 
one room and quadrilles danced In another. The 
study was turned Into a coffee-room, and the di¬ 
ning-room into a card-room; so that poor Harrison 
fairly took flight, and was seen no more till even¬ 
ing, while the boys revelled In the commotion, 
and took their meals how and whoa they could, 
securing divers forbidden dainties In the scuffle. 
Maggie sought reruge in her own chamber, but 
Bhe soon found that that was required tor a cloak¬ 
room ; so she put on her hat and went for a long 
country walk. In which she contrived to lose her¬ 
self, and only reached home la time for a cold, 
comfortless, late dinner. 
In the morning matters grow worse, and the 
racket only subsided as the hour approached for 
the arrival of the visitors. By nine o'clock the 
rooms were full,—that is, about fifty people were 
crammed Into a space scarcely large enough for 
half that number, so that flirting was carried on 
upon the stairs, and love-speeches whispered on 
the landing. However, the evening passed otr 
well, and was, what Harriet called, “ a decided 
success.” But the aspect of the house the 
next morning was so utterly forlorn and deso¬ 
late, such a chaos of rout seats and drooping gar¬ 
lands, such a litter of torn finery and champagne 
corks, such a medley of chicken bones and dirty 
platters, that Mr. Harrison, who was a sworn 
friend to order and regularity, might well be 
heard to exclaim that ho was glad it was over. 
" And you really like aU tills gaiety and dissi¬ 
pation, Miss Cameron?" said Claude Hamilton one 
evening. 
“ I liked it very much Indeed at first," replied 
Maggie ; “ but I am beginning to get rather tired 
of It now, 1 must confess, and we live so very qui¬ 
etly at home." 
“ And pray how do you employ your time at 
home, Miss Cameron, If I may be allowed to ask 
the question ?" 
“ on, I am never at a loss,” she replied. “ Mam¬ 
ma likes me to keep up my accomplishments; so 
I practise every day, and draw a good deal; then 
we have always plenty or books, and generally 
we play at chess la the winter evenings; so tUat, 
with plain sowing ana fancy-work, the days often 
pass too quickly.” 
“ In my day,” said Mr. Harrison, “ girls learnt 
housekeeping ; and 1 have heard my mother say 
that she could make a pudding and knit a stock¬ 
ing before she was sixteen.” 
And I can make a pudding, too. uncle,” 
laughed Maggie, “ and do, often, w lien Marttia Is 
busy.” 
“ What’s that about puddings ?” asked Sophy, 
sailing Into the room In full evening costume. 
“Oh, Mr. Hamilton, I did not know you were 
here. Are you going to the Stephens’ to-night ?” 
“ No, I really could not manage it,” he replied. 
“ Three Invitations for ono evening fairly scared 
me, so I declined them all, and just called Inhere 
on my way home." It was astonishing how often 
Mr. namflton had latterly called on his way 
home. 
“ Oh, how very shabby of you!” exclatmed 
Sophy, with her sweetest smile. “ I shall tell Mrs. 
Stephens how very badly you behave.” But the 
young lady’s raillery only elicited an exaggerated 
expression of despair at his Inability to Join her 
party, and an offer to escort her to the cab, In 
which the othors were already seated. 
“Mamma,” exclaimed Sophy, eagerly, as the 
cab drove off, “ did you know Mr. Hamilton was 
In the drawing-room ?” 
“ I did,” said Fanny; “ but as I knew he did not 
come to see me, 1 forgot all about It.” 
“ It was very provoking, I must say, and you 
might have told me, Fanny,” said Sophy, very 
much put out. 
" I did not know he was there,” said Mrs. Ham¬ 
ilton ; “but, after all, It does not matter. Maggie 
la only a child, and you need not fear, Sophy, 
dear.” But Sophy was not so easily consoled, and 
a cloud obsourod her fair brow, which was only 
removed by two waltzes and a gallopade, aided 
by the fervent devotion of a gallant captain of 
Dragoons. 
“ And you really can make a pudding ?" said 
Mr. Hamilton, as he drew his chair rather unne¬ 
cessarily near the little table where Maggie was 
at work. 
“ I really can,” answered Maggie. “ But what 
1 b there so very surprising In that ?” 
« Nay, I think It Is very surprising,” he said ; 
“ and I question very much If you could find a 
dozen young ladles of a certain class in all this 
great town of Wtnterbury who could say as 
much. And there’s another mystery to be solved. 
How Is It you did not go to the Stephens’ this 
evening ?" 
“ Because she volunteered to stay at home and 
amuse her old uncle,” said Mr. Harrison, laying 
his hand, caressingly, on her glossy hair. 
“ But It was no sacrifice, uncle,” Bald Maggie, 
“ for I did not want to go. I began quite to long 
for a quiet evening at home. You play chess, Mr. 
Hamilton? Ah, then you and uncle can have a 
grand battle, and I will sit by and watch the 
game.” But Mr. Harrison declared he had not 
finished bis paper, and told the young people to 
try their skill till he was ready. 
The game, however, progressed but slowly, and 
tbe supper tray came In before It was bait over; 
aDd after that there was another hour of pleasant 
animated chat; so that when Mr. Hamilton at. 
last took his leave, he felt quite convinced he had 
passed a far pleasanter evening than If he had 
gone to a dozen balls, 
“ And what sort of an evening did you have ?’> 
asked Maggie, as the girls dawdled over a late 
breakfast next morning. 
“ Pretty well," said Sophy, languidly ; “ but I 
think I ought rather to ask you that. Pray, how 
long did he stay ?”—the “he," of course, referring 
to Mr. Hamilton. 
** Oh, ho stayed to supper, and It was nearly 
eleven o’clock when he left," replied Maggie. 
“ How provoking 1” exclaimed Sophy pettishly ; 
•< and what In the world could you And to talk 
about all t he time ?” 
“ oh, plenty of things," replied Maggie. “ I 
think he was rather curious to know how sober 
damsels like me pass their time In the country; 
so I gave him a slight sketch of my occupations,— 
very much to his amusement, no doubt.” 
“ And did you tell him you made the beds and 
hemmed the table-cloths?” Inquired Harriet, 
rather spitefully. 
“ No, though I might have done so,” said Mag¬ 
gie, quietly ; “for I do both sometimes. And as it 
was, I only owned to being vulgar enough to know 
how to make a pudding.” 
“ Keally, Maggie,” retorted Fanny. “ I begin 
to suspect you are a very deep little girl.” 
“ A very silty one,” Interrupted Sophy, hastily. 
“ What would he take you for? I consider pud¬ 
ding-making about on a par with dtsh-washlng f 
and certainly no lady would wish to do either.” 
“ Then I suppose I am no lady,” said Maggie, 
“ for l must say I see no reason why a lady should 
not do both, It necessity required It; and I know 
dear mamma thinks no girl's education la com¬ 
plete unless she understands housekeeping; and 
I »w sure work Is no disgrace to any one. But I 
beg pardon tor speaking so warmly.” 
“ Ob, there Is no need,” said 8ophy, rather cold¬ 
ly ; “ It is not of the slightest consequence, I as¬ 
sure you.” 
While this little domestic scene was going on at 
the Harrisons’, one somewhat similar took place 
between Mrs. Hamilton and her son. They had 
breakfasted early, as usual, and were seated on 
either side of a noble Are, burning In a grate of 
polished steel. She was a lady who might be be¬ 
tween fifty and sixty, though her eyes were still 
bright, her cheek atlll smooth, and her figure 
queenly In Its proportions and bearing. 
“ And who are these Harrisons ?” she Inquired, 
when her son had told her where he v .ad spent 
the previous evening. 
“ He belongs to the firm of Greatwloh, Harri¬ 
son, & Pardoe,” he replied,—" a respectable, well- 
to-do concern, and old Greatwlch Is as rich as a 
Jew; so is Pardoe; but they are bachelors, and 
the Harrisons are a large family,” 
“ Grown up ?” Inquired Mrs. Hamilton. 
“ Grown up." was the reply. “ At least, the 
girls are ; the boys are younger, mere schoolboys, 
In fact.” 
There was a pause, during which Mrs. Hamil¬ 
ton gazed thoughtfully into the Are. At last her 
sou broke the silence; rather hesitatingly It 
seemed. 
" There Is a young girl, a cousin, I believe, 
staying with them at present.” 
“ Yes ?” said Mrs. Hamilton, Inquiringly, as her 
son made another stop. 
" Bhe only came for the winter," continued 
Claude, In his turn gazing into the glowing em¬ 
bers ; “ and she will leave early In the spring, 
unless—unless I can persuade her to stay.” 
“ Claude 1” exclaimed his mother. It was only 
one word, but there was a world of significance 
In the tone, and he drew himself up rather proud¬ 
ly, and met her steady look with unflinching eyes. 
“ My dear mother,” he exclaimed, *’ why do you 
look at me like that ? Have you not, for the last 
three or four years at least, been telling mo that 
I ought to marry, and now that I am really.thlnk- 
Ing about It you look as If I bad broached some 
outrageous and unheard-of Idea.” 
“ Because you have taken me so completely by 
surprise,” said his mother. “ 1 have never seen— 
never heard of this young lady before ; but If she 
Is one really calculated to make you happy, de¬ 
pend upon It you shall meet with no obstacles 
from me.” 
“ There’s my own dear mother,” exclaimed 
Claude, affectionately kissing her delicate hand ; 
“ and do not fear that l shall do anything rashly. 
I have not yet said a word either to Miss Came¬ 
ron or her uncle. At present, all T want is that 
you should know her.” 
“ I see but little chance of that, Claude," said his 
mother, gravely, “ going out so little as I do ; and 
It would not do for you to bring her hero.” 
“ No, I see that,” said Claude; “ and yet It must 
be managed. There Is only one way—suppose 
you give a party.” 
“ A party 1" said Mrs. Hamilton. 
“ Yes, and Invite the Harrisons,” he replied. 
“ Don’t you think It would do, mother ? They 
would be only too happy to come ; and It would 
seem quite natural, as 1 have heen there so 
often." 
And so It was settled, and the Harrisons were In 
a high state of excitement and delight, and drove 
their dressmaker to the verge of desperation In 
their anxiety to have what Sophy called “ kill¬ 
ing costumestor Claude was an only son, and 
being distinctly related to a viscount, and on vis¬ 
iting terms with more than one of the “ upper 
ten thousand,” was considered by all the Winter- 
bury girls as the grandest match in the neighbor¬ 
hood. 
CHAPTER lll> 
An evening party at Deanley Manor was a 
different affair to a ball In St. John’s Street, 
Wlnterbury. Here there was no crowding, no 
display, no striving after effect, but a certain 
quiet tone of refinement pervaded the establish¬ 
ment, and seemed to blend together every trifling 
detail Into one harmonious whole. There was 
no regular ball, but tbe young people adjourned 
to the breakfast-room and got ip a carpet dance, 
taking It by turns to play. Mrs. Hamilton was 
not so much engaged with her company that 
she could not find time to observe Maggie, and 
the result of her observatlou was so favorable 
that she determined to see more of her. 
“ My son tells me you are leaving Wlnterbury 
la a short time, Miss Cameron,” said Mrs Hamil¬ 
ton, when she had by a few adroit questions ob¬ 
tained a considerable Insight Into Maggie s 
thoughts and fancies. “It It were not asking 
too much, 1 would Invite you to spend a week 
with me before you leave; tor I am so very fond 
of the society of young people, but we should be 
so very quiet.” 
“ Oh, I do not mind that In the least,” said Mag¬ 
gie, with childish eagerness. “I am so fond 
of the country, and If my aunt has no objec¬ 
tion-” 
“iwlllask her myself,” said Mrs. Hamilton, 
“ and the carriage shall come for you on Monday 
morning.” 
A very few words sufficed to obtain Mrs. Har¬ 
rison’s consent; and Maggie, who was becoming 
very weary of mornlDg promenades and evening 
patties, looked forward wltn delight to the idea 
of a short sojourn la the country, although Mrs. 
Hamilton laid great stress on the fact that she 
should be “ quite alone,” having made a special 
proviso that her son should go on a visit to some 
friends at a distance, and not return until she 
recalled him. The Harrison girls were quite 
taken “ aback,” as Fanny elegantly expressed It, 
by Maggie’s unexpected good fortune. 
“Though after all,” said Sophy, “It will bo 
nothing so very delightful If you are to be shut 
Hp with ad old woman all day long, and her son 
away, too. Oh Maggie, she took care or that, 
depend upon it; and she only wants you to stop 
a gap; so It Is not so very flattering.” 
“ No, Indeed,” said Harriet, contemptuously; 
“ but I hear she Is a regular old-fashioned goody, 
who approves of young ladles maklog tnemselves 
scullions and kitchen maids; so I dare say you 
will get on very well together.” 
“ Well, ac any rate you need be under no trou¬ 
ble about dress,” put In Fanny; “ you can go as 
shabby as you please, now the young lairds 
away; though, to be sure, there may be a few 
callers after the party. However, I prophesy 
you will be glad enough to come back into the 
world again." 
Maggie wisely held her peace, and gradually 
the Bcoffa and jeers died away; yet It was with un- 
rnlxed feelings of pleasure that she saw the car¬ 
riage drive up that.was to convey her to Dean- 
ley. She found her hostess waiting to receive 
her with a truly warm and cordial greetlng- 
Mra. Hamilton was one of those rare* beings who 
improve upon acquaintance. The alight reserve 
that characterized her manner with strangers 
wore off as she was better known, and she be¬ 
came warm, and even, affectionate, tn her bear¬ 
ing towards those to whom sue took a Uklng, as 
she soon did to her young visitor. 
•• Do you know," sho said, one evening, as they 
sat by tbe library Are, “ 1 think 1 took a sort of 
fancy to you because your name Is Margaret." 
•* flow did you know it was?” asked Maggie. 
“ Oh, I suppose you heard my aunt call me so ?” 
“ No, it was before then—It was before I had 
even seen you,” replied Mrs. Hamilton. “ Claude 
told me.” 
Mrs. Hamilton glanced at Maggie as she said 
this, but the quiet lace was perfectly calm and 
unmoved. She had evidently never thought of 
Claude as a lover. 
“ Did he ? I wonder he should think of It,’ 
said Maggie. “ Then you like the name of Mar¬ 
garet ?” 
“ I love It as I love no other,” replied Mrs. Ham¬ 
ilton ; “It was the name of my dear sister.” 
“Then do call me so,” said Maggie, eagerly. 
“ It seems so formal to be called Miss Cameron." 
“Perhaps I may, some day,” said Mrs. Hamil¬ 
ton, with a smile. 
That night a rather long letter was dispatched 
to Claude, and It contained these words“ I am 
not disappointed In her; and that, you know, la 
much for me to say on so short an acquaintance. 
Give me a little more time, and I shall be able to 
speak more decisively.” 
The week lor which Mangle had been Invited 
passed away far too quickly, tor the pleasant 
morning rambles when tne weather permitted, 
and afternoon drives, wttb the cosy flreslde even¬ 
ings, were Inexpressibly charming to a girl of 
Maggie’s stamp. There was always some new 
book todlscuss, or some village news to talk over, 
and occasionally more serious subjects would 
arise; and all tended to convince Mrs. Hamilton 
that Maggie was a girl of no common mlr d. 
One arternoon, when the weather had changed 
and the thickly-falling snow made their usual 
drive Impossible, Mrs. Hamilton had been show¬ 
ing Maggie some of the art treasures, of which 
she had a large collection. 
“ How nice It. must be to be rich 1” exclaimed 
Maggie, as the last antique gem was replaced In 
its richly carved Indian cabinet. 
“ Never covet riches, ” said Mrs. Hamilton, 
gravely; “my happiest days were spent In com¬ 
parative poverty.” Then after a pause she asked, 
“ Would you like me to tell you something of my 
past, life? It Is just the evening for a story." 
Maggie assented with delight, and seating her¬ 
self on a low ottoman, drew a little nearer to her 
friend and prepared to listen. 
“I will pass over my early days,’’ said Mrs_ 
Hamilton, “tor mere was nothing remarkable 
either In my education, position or prospects. 
My father was the younger son of a noble house 
It Is true, but not a rich one, and moreover, he 
had Irretrievably offended his friends by marry¬ 
ing a singularly beautiful and amiable girl of 
gentle descent but small fortune, In preference 
to one of Immense wealth, plain person and un- 
aml&ble disposition However, he never repents 
ed his choice. We were a large family, but all 
died young excepting my dear sister Margaret 
and myself. In her seventeenth year she too 
passed away, and I was left alone to comfort my 
almost Inconsolable parents. Two years after 
her death I became acquainted with my late dear 
husband, and In another twelve months we were 
married. 
“ Now came my time of trial, for which. I am 
sorry to say, 1 was but 111-prepared. My life 
hitherto had been easy and pleasant, for my 
parents, though not rich, were comparatively 
affluent, and I had never known the virtue of self- 
denial. My husband was a barrister, well born 
and weU connected, but of very small lndepend- 
ant resources, and brief3dld not come in so 
quickly as we had anticipated. The consequence 
was that our expenses soon exceed our means, 
and my husband told me this one day when I 
had been proposing to give a dinner-party 
“ ‘My dear Carolina,’ said he, “I am afraid 
we are not justified in incurring any additional 
expenses. You know how small my income ls f 
and my professional gains ao not keep pace with 
our requirement. I am very much afraid we 
shall have to retrench.” 
“ * Retrench !' I exclaimed, In absolute dismay 
for the word seemed significant of nothing short 
of ruin and disaster. 
“ 4 It will be nothing very dreadful darling,' he 
said, smiling at my tone of horror. ‘1 thought 
perhaps we might keep fewer servants, or, at 
least, put down the carriage.” 
‘“Oh, no, not that!' I exclaimed. “Surely, 
Edward, It, will not need that? We will give no 
more dinner-parties, and then we need not go to 
any. The cUUdren—lor by this time we had 
three—will be a sufficient excuse for giving up 
visiting.’ 
“ • I fear that will make but little difference, 
he replied: * however, we can try," 
« We did try, and the experiment cost us dear, 
tor la the end we were obliged to diminish our 
establishment far more than my husband had 
proposed, and in less than another year we were 
living tn a small house with only two female ser¬ 
vants and a gardener, wno also waited at table. 
“I may as well own at once that I had at that 
time a good deal of false pride, and at first 1 made 
myself thoroughly miserable, and every ring at 
the bell sent me into a tremor lest our mald-of- 
all-work should not be presentable, or the man 
be surprised tn his svorklng clothes; and when I 
went out 1 fancied my fashionable friends looked 
coldly on me because my dress was less costly 
or my bonnet less stylish than usual. Yes, you 
may well smile, child, and I nope you are untain¬ 
ted by any such absurdities. There was an¬ 
other thing, too mat troubled mo. My husband 
liked a good dinner, and I soon found that with¬ 
out some amount of personal superintendence that 
was absolutely unattainable. I was silly enough 
to think kitchen matters quite beneath the no¬ 
tice of any lady, and it cost my foolish pride many 
a bitter pang when I had not only to overlook 
but even prepare with my own hands the soup 
or the pudding that I knew ray husbaod had par¬ 
ticularly funded. I am glad you can make a 
pudding, my dear.” 
Maggie looked up with a blush aud a smile, and 
Mrs. Hamilton went on. 
" Yet It was very sweet to be thanked and 
praised for my efforts,—so sweet, that In time I 
grew more than reconciled to my labor of love; 
and 1 learned to dread more than any thing the 
luxurious self-indulgence which leads so many 
wives In the middle class to pass their days In 
utter Idleness, lounging on a sofa and reading 
novels, wntle their children are lert to menials, 
and their husbands to the uncheered monotony 
of a weary, wearing toll. 
“ Time passed on, and gradually our affairs Un- 
