7S7 
NOV. 43 
THE RURAL. NEW-YORKER. 
fiftmg lltkdlanjr. 
THE OLD OAK TEEE. 
I love the woods arrayed in Summer green, 
Or tinged with russet Autumn's golden sheen, 
In pensive mood I gladly seek their shade, 
And ramble through each leafy glon and glade 
But yet, howe'er the forest may delight, 
The opening plain brings still a weleome sight 
No dearer spot the landscape holds for me 
Than that white-gowned, spacious grassy lea 
Where stands In solitude the old oalc tree! 
In by gone days, how often here I've strayed, 
And lovingly thy giant form surveyed; 
Returning now from lands, I long have ranged, 
I come In age and find thee all unchanged. 
'Tis truly writ that life ts but a span, 
At least that portion which belongs to man ; 
For but as yesterday it seems to be 
When, still a boy, I out my name with glee 
Deep iu thy rugged bark, dear old oak tree! 
In rising manhood three staunch friends were 
wont 
From time to time to seek this cherished haunt; 
Each took hi* choseu path the world to roam, 
With hopes to meet, in after days at home. 
Alas! ere many years had fleeted o'er, 
One sank to rest <>u far Arabia's shore; 
The next, found sailor grave hi tropic sea; 
While I am left aloue of all the throe 
To keep tho tryst beside the old oak tree! 
How still the air avound this regal oak 
Ere yet my voice the charmed alienee broke; 
Till now unheard the drowsy feathered throng 
Awake to pipe with Joy their evening song; 
The daisy closes with a glauce of love; 
The dark'ning shades Biirround Ihe mystic grove. 
Oh ! when the Fates send forth their dread decree, 
That bids the day no longer break for me, 
May eunset And me 'neath the old oak tree ! 
—Chamber's Journal. 
-a-*-©- 
INMATES OF LESTER HALL. 
(Continued from page 741.) 
“That is all right. Now look here, little woman . 
I am In a difficulty. You know I want Carewe to 
be my best man. I don’t know how I shall support 
myself on such a trylug occasion without his as¬ 
sistance.” 
“ He does not refuse you, does he 7 ” said Mattie, 
anxiously, 
“ No; but I am afraid It will be awkward about 
Cecil.” 
“ About Cecil? How do you mean ?” asked Mat- 
tie, in some surprise; for at Lawrence Carewe’s re¬ 
quest Mr. Edgar had kept the fact of his rejection 
from her knowledge. 
" Well, you see, dear, Lawrence was awfully In 
love with her," stammered Mr. Edgar, rather con¬ 
fusedly, “ and she did not behave well; she led 
him on, and then threw him overboard as coolly as 
possible 1" 
“Oh, Edgar!" 
“It Is quite true. love. You yourself thought 
she cared about him, but It was only a flirtation 
after aU. still, do you think Cecil will object to 
his being my best man ?” 
“ I don't see how she can, if he does not object 
to meeting her,” said Mattie. “But, Edgar, are 
you sure he told you he oared for her ?" 
“ Yes, quite sure; It was one night that he was 
dining here, do you remember? He and Cecil 
were together in the conservatory for Borne time. 
When I went In,” Mr. Edgar continued, “Law¬ 
rence was alone, and I never saw a fellow so 
cut up In my life. He did not tell me what had 
passed between them but I gathered that she had 
refused him. I was furious, for I had every hope 
that he would have been successful, but he would 
not let me blame her. 1 1 love her ’ was all he said, 
I wish she could have heard him." 
“ How wrong of Cecil," faltered Mattie. 
•' Wrong 1 it was cruel; for she had certainly en¬ 
couraged him,” said Mr. Edgar, Indignantly. “I 
can’t help feeling angry with her, Mattie. Law- 
renoe Is too good a fellow to trifle with.” 
“Did he reel it so much?” said Mattie, regret¬ 
fully. 
“ Feel It! It almost killed him." Bald Mr. Edgar, 
bitterly. “ She had raised his hopes so high.” 
“ I thought she cared for him,” said Mattie, In a 
low voice. 
‘•No man could resist her If she behaved to him 
as she behaved to Carowe,” said Mr. Edgar, de¬ 
cidedly. “It was unpardonable, Mattie." 
"It is incomprehensible, Edgar," she answered. 
"Do you know that once I spoke to her about It: 
I asked her If she cared for him, and something m 
her manner that day seemed to me to say that she 
loved him almost unwillingly as It were.” 
"If she loved him. she betrayed him,” said Mr. 
Edgar. "Will you flnd one, if she will condescend 
to walk In and out of church with him ?" 
That evening, just before dinner, Mattie went 
into her sister's room and found her alone. She 
was standing by the toltet-table, dressed for 
dinner, looking pale; and as she lifted her eyes on 
Mattie’s entrance. Miss Lester almost started at 
the expression or hopeless misery in their depths. 
"Cecil, dear, what is the matter?” Bhe said, im¬ 
pulsively : hut Cecil gontiy loosed herself from the 
tender hands, 
"There la nothing the matter," she said, petu¬ 
lantly. "What should be the matter, Mattie?" 
"Nothing, I hope, dear,” said Mattie, gently. “I 
want to ask you something, Cecil.’’ 
"Well, I am listening," she answered, ungra¬ 
ciously. 
"Have you any objection to Dr. Carewe being 
Edgar ’b best man ?" said Mattie. "You know It Is 
a bridesmaid’s privilege to ohoose—or It ought to 
be, It It la not.” 
"Objection ?” said Cecil, slowly. “No, I have no 
objection. Why should I have ?” 
“That is satisfactory,” said Mattie, as she turn¬ 
ed away; but Cecil put out her hand and caught 
her dress. 
" vYalc a minute, Mattie,” she said, calmly, "I 
too, have something to tell you. Prepare to offer 
me your congratulations.” 
"Congratulations I” and Mattie turned quickly. 
“Oh! Cecil, is It Dr. Carewe?” 
Cecil looked at her with some haughtiness and 
surprise in her lustrous eyes. 
“That would hardly be a matter of congratula¬ 
tion,” she Bald, disdainfully. "I was going to tell 
you of my engagement to Mr. Eleston.” 
"Mr. Eleston 1” repeated Mattie. 
“ Yes,” said Cecil, calmly. 
" But, Cecil, you refused him 1” 
" Possibly; but 1 have changed my mind—that 
Isa woman's privilege, you know,” she answered, 
still with the same proud composure or manner. 
" Well.” she continued, after a moment’s pause, 
do you not wish me all happiness, Mattie ?" 
" My darling, yes!” said Mattie, warmly, as she 
kissed her. “ But, oh! Cecil, are you sure that 
you love him ?” 
“is that necessary 7" Cecil asked, with a slight 
half-ironic laugh. 
" T think so,” Mattie said, gravely. 
“So we differ,” answered Cecil, smiling, “ Hark, 
is not that the dloner-bell, Mattie ?” 
They left the room together; but as they went 
down stairs Cecil paused a moment. 
“ Dncle Henry has given his consent,” she said, 
steadily. “ Mr. Eleston spoke to him to day. He 
Is very glad. Y T ou will not try to make him dis¬ 
satisfied, Mattie? Believe me. I love him quite 
well enough to make him a good wife.” 
“I was not thinking of him but of you Cecil,” 
said Mattie, gently. " It is not for me to interfere, 
you know, since you wish It.” 
CHAPTER XVII. 
IN BRIC1HT0N. 
The engagement between Cecil Lester and Mr. 
Eleston took the great world In whloh they moved 
by surprise, for although the devotion of the 
young man had been very evident, Cecil had al¬ 
ways seemed to discourage his attentions, and 
treated him with a half-kindly, half-indifferent 
gentleness, which was less promising than cold¬ 
ness or disdain would have been. 
However, his patient devotion had won Its re¬ 
ward at last, for Cecil had accepted him; Mr. Da- 
tou had given his consent; a diamond engagement¬ 
ring guttered on the little white finger. He was 
raised to the seventh heaven, and there was not a 
nappler man In Brighton, whither he had accom¬ 
panied Mr. Daton and tils niece after the wedding 
of Mattie and Mr. Edgar and their departure for 
France. 
He was a good-looking young fellow, slender and 
fair, with curly, golden hair, frank, smiling blue 
eyes, and a hearty, cheery manner, which im¬ 
pressed people favorably. He was very young- 
only two or three years older than Cecil herself— 
and hla pride and delight in his beautiful nances 
were pleasant to see, and won her uncle’s heart. 
He made a very pleasant addition to the Brighton 
party, Mr. Daton thonght, and prevented Cecil 
from moping after her 3lster, which she was rath¬ 
er Inclined to do, he said to himself, remembering 
tho white face, so still and stony, which he had 
Been as she passed down the aisle on Dr. Carewe's 
arm. 
Five or six weeks passed quietly and pleasantly 
enough. Mr. Daton went up to town occasionally; 
long, pleasant, chatty letters came from Maitle 
and her husband, from various places In France and 
Italy, where they were evidently enjoying them¬ 
selves to the uttermost. Cecil rode, drove and 
danced with almost feverish energy; Mr. Eleston 
lived In a bright day-dream of happiness; and Mrs. 
Audley worked wonderful designs with her crewel 
silks and worsted, and went on the even tenor of 
her way. 
One bright frosty morning early la December 
Cecil found herself the first down to breakfast 
and for some minutes the only occupant of the 
dlolng-room. She crossed over to the window, 
and stood for a moment looking out on the Parade 
at the sea. lying so calmly, deeply, beautifully blue, 
stretched out before her, more than one passer¬ 
by turned to have a second look at the beautiful 
weary face, and the wistful, yearning eyes. 
in a few moments the butler entered with the 
urn, and Cecil went over to the table to make the 
tea; and she had just completed her task, when 
Mrs. Audley'8 maid came In with a message from 
that lady to the effect that she had a had head¬ 
ache, and begged to be excused appearing at 
breakfast. As the maid left the room she en¬ 
countered the butler, who was bringing In the 
letters, some of which he deposited at Mr. Daton’s 
place, and two or three of which he presented to 
Miss Lester. 
Cecil took them negligently; the one wnich lay 
on the top was addressed to her in the hold, dash¬ 
ing callgraphy of her rtanoe, who was absent for a 
few days- the others were notes of invitation 
probably; Cecil threw all three aside a trifle in¬ 
differently, with a slight expression of annoy¬ 
ance. 
“ Not one from Mattie; I fully expected one from 
her this morning. Good morning, Uncle Henry; 
is It not cold ? Go to the window and see how 
dreary the Parade looks. I begin to wish Ernest 
would come back. I quite mlaa Mm.” 
“ Do you, my darling ? Bo much the better. 
Where Is Mrs. Audley?” asked Mr. Daton, as hav¬ 
ing returned Cecil’s affectionate greeting, ne went 
to the table, and taking up his letters, glanced at 
their superscriptions. 
" She is not well—she has a headache,” aaia 
Cecil, taking her seat behind the urn, •* will you 
have tea or coffee. Uncle Henry ?" 
"Tea, If you please, my child, he replied, rather 
abruptly. “ Ah hero la & letter from Mattie.” 
" From Mattie V” echoed Cecil, “ 1 am so glad ! 
I expeoted to hear rrom her this morning, and not 
receiving a letter, I fancied she might be 111. What 
does she say?” 
" It Is a long letter, Queen Cecil,” said her un¬ 
cle, smiling. “1 think It must wait until after 
breakfast. This speaks well for her health,’ 
So saying, he held up some closely-written 
sheets of foreign paper. 
Cecil laughed. 
" What a lengthy epistle! Poor dear uncle! 
You shall read It out loud to me after breakfast as 
a great treat.” 
"The queen commands, and I obey,” he an¬ 
swered, with a comical resignation. "The fact 
Is, Cecil, Ernest has completely spoiled you—you 
are getting,quite unbearable. Poor fellow, I quite 
pity him!” 
A sudden shade Bwopt over the beautiful face. 
" Poor Ernest!” she said, softly, and said no 
more until breakfast was over, when she left her 
seat, sat down In a large arm-chair before the Are, 
crossed her dainty little feet on the fender-stool 
and her hands on her lap, and said, coolly .* 
"Now, Uncle Henry, please."—To be continued. 
THOMAS HUGHES ; HIS “ TALK TO STU¬ 
DENTS.” 
Many a reader of the Rural, I am sure, have 
read “ School Days at Rugby ” and “ Tom Brown 
at Oxford,” and will be glad to hear something 
about their author, the famous Englishman. 
Thomas Hughes, who Is now in this country 
founding a colony In Tennessee, lecturing, visiting 
-and becoming Americanized generally. 
Mr. Hughes will probably never get over being a 
schoolboy, In a way, tor In meeting with students 
he lives over his own school life. The way I hap¬ 
pened to see and hear him and take him by the 
hand, came about, was because he came to talk to 
the students of Haverford College (about nine miles 
out of Philadelphia) about Ills own school Me at 
Rugby, and of the famous Dr. Arnold, wno was 
head master there at that time. The College fac¬ 
ulty, with commendable appreciation, sent out In¬ 
vitations to various persons In the city and the 
neighborhood to be present at the talk, so there 
was a goodly company present, and when, at a 
quarter past four In the afternoon, Mr. Hughes 
stepped to the desk on the platform of the audience 
room, there was a lively greeting of cheers. One 
thinks of Sir. Hughes as " Tom Brown ” and en¬ 
dowed with unchanging youthfulnesa and boy¬ 
hood ; but the reality shows a man of so years of 
age, or thereabouts, talllsh, sUra, bald-headed, 
blue-eyed, with a fringe of sandy hair and mutton- 
chop alde-whlskers of the same hue, clear-cut fea¬ 
tures, showing deetded firmness and character, 
blended with a look of business a.nd benevolence— 
if you can Imagine that. He began 10 talk In a 
clear, English voice, with the Intonation and ac¬ 
cent that Is so peculiarly and strikingly English to 
the ear, but which Is difficult to make apparent on 
paper. His talk was quite Informal, and he half lean¬ 
ed on the desk In front of hltn as he talked, planting 
one foot and then the other alternately In front of 
him, as it to make his attitude an easy one, and 
making one hand, which had a sore Anger, the 
plaything of the other—being handsome hands, 
too, with long, tapering fingers that looked to be 
the exact counterparts of the hand3 or Drs. Eliza¬ 
beth and Emily Blackwell, his famous country¬ 
women, who have done such splendid work In this 
country. 
Mr. Hughes said tho way he happened to he sent 
to Rugby was from the fact that his father had 
been a fellow pupil at Oxford with Dr. Arnold, and 
Mr. Hughes was so Impressed with the superiority 
or Arnold as a young man that when he became 
head master of the school at Rugby he at once de¬ 
cided to send his two boys to him, one of whom 
was the now famous " Tom ” Hughes. 
But " Tom ” had been at Rugby about three 
years before Dr. Arnold recognized anything of 
particular interest in him, and the way tt chanced 
was this:—Dr. Arnold was a great reader of 
Scott's novels (derided nearly all others), and en¬ 
couraged his “ boys ” to read Scott. He orten al¬ 
luded to passages In them which Illustrated pas¬ 
sages in ihe Latin authors the boys were reading. 
Upon this occasion they were reading “ Horace,” 
and Dr. Soot.t asked for an illustration of the pas¬ 
sage from Scott. "He began at the head of the 
class,” said Mr. Hughes, " and came down, down, 
down—1 wa3 alwayB well toward the foot—until 
he came to me and I could give him the quotation. 
He seemed greatly pleased, and told me to go to 
the head of the class, where I went; but, as usuaL 
1 did not stay there long.” [Laughter.] 
After that the Doctor depended upon " Tom " to 
give the illustrations from Scott, when all the rest 
of the class failed. But upon one occasion, when 
Baron Bunsen, the ramous scholar, had oeen 
brought In as a visitor by the Doctor, all the class 
failed, even young Hughes, who was “dreadfully 
ashamed.” 
The Doctor, when he had famous men visiting 
him, was In the habit of bringing them into the 
class, so that the hoys could have a chance to see 
them. One of these visitors was Archbishop 
Whateley (author of Whateley s Logic, etc., etc.), 
and when he preached he made a great impression 
on the boys, because he would stop almost in the 
middle of one of his strongest sentences and, div¬ 
ing Ms hand in his waistcoat pocket, would bring 
out a huge pinch of snuff, ror, although a snuff- 
taker. he always carried the stuff in Ms waistcoat 
pocket Instead of In a box. 
He related another anecdote of Whateley which 
was even worse. The boys—some of them, of whom 
" Tom " was one—had been invited to dine with 
Dr. and Mrs. Arnold in honor of the Archbishop. 
The table was covered with a beautiful, line, 
snowy cloth, and spread with shining glass and 
china and silver, and the hoys were ranged around 
waiting for the entrance of Dr. Whateley. sud¬ 
denly he rushed Into the room, with Ms hands full 
of a maaa of grass and dirt, and a curious worm 
that he had never seen before, and which he had 
found in hla walk, and full or talk about it he de¬ 
posited tilt* mass on the faultless tahlo-cloth with 
perfect uneouoern, as though he had not commits 
ted a most boorish and uncivilized act. Imagine 
Mrs. Arnold's disgust, and think of such an exam¬ 
ple by a really great man in the presence of young 
men whose habits were being formed Ij_ i 
Mr. Hughes described Dr. Arnold as being a tall, 
loose-Jointed man, with a shambling, ungainly 
walk, as our lamented Lincoln had, with bushy 
hair, piercing eyes, and a strong, heavy under Jaw 
that was a sort of barometer of the man. By the 
working of that under-Jaw the boyB could always 
tell when any one of them was making a poor reci¬ 
tation or otherwise appearing meanly to the eyes 
of the Doctor, as it would take on, to them, a ter¬ 
rible form, swelling with the feelings wltMn. 
. The appointment of Dr. Arnold as head master 
was at the outset quite extraordinary, as he was 
what the English call a “Radical,” and he really 
reformed the high school Bystem throughout Eng¬ 
land. 
At that time only about 2,000 English hoys from 
the higher classes were being educated annually, 
In England, while now the boys receiving a higher 
education, number 20 , 000 . At Rugby, Dr. Arnold 
revolutionized the school, making himself the tar¬ 
get for abuso all over England. Among the vari¬ 
ous high-handed things the boys had, were packs 
of hounds, and they made themselves the terror 
of the neighborhood. 
Dr. Arnold discharged the hounds and at one 
time expelled a party of boys, which at that time 
was unheard of, and brought wrathfulness down 
upon Ms head from all quarters. But ne said It 
did not matter whether there were 300, or 200 , 
or two boys at Rugby; but It aid matter that the 
number there should be gentlemen. He pulled 
affairs out of old grooves, attacked old prejudices; 
In a word, was a reorganizer. Old friends fell 
away from him: he was hurt because of the mis¬ 
apprehension of Ms motives, but he kept on In the 
strong, frank, open-hearted, brave way In which 
he started, and gradually friends raffled about 
him, the boys were devoted to him, his books and 
speeches aroused England, and soon gained an 
immense Influence. He seemed to respect nothing 
because it was old, but only because It was right. 
One great point he made with the boys was that 
they should never separate secular* from religious 
work. He would have them believe all days to be 
holy and to he as conscientious in ail their week¬ 
day work as in their religious devotions on the 
Sabbath. And such an industrious man! Mr. 
Hughes recalled the times when he and another 
boy, would climb out on a certain roof where they 
could look down Into the Doctor’s study, where 
late at night, after a hard day’s work, they would 
see him absorbed In writing the books that after¬ 
ward made him so famous. 
It was a oommon saying In England that with 
Dr. Arnold, every question was an open question 
every morning when he got up. And his great 
power lay In his freedom from bigotry, the broad¬ 
ness, liberality, justness and bravery of hia views. 
He had the courage of Ms own opinions, and in 
Mb opinion, all classes of society, Quakers, Meth¬ 
odists and Presbyterians had as much right to 
higher education as the communicants of the state 
Church—the Episcopalians. So It came about 
that schools multiplied, ana the doors to a liberal 
education were opened to all. it seems perhaps a 
small thing to us, but It was a great innovation In 
England. 
It is always a pleasant thing to hear a pupil 
lauding Ms master, and It certainly was a treat to 
hear Mr. Hughee tell why it was that the Head 
Master at Rugby was so beloved and so great. 
In Ms pronunciation Mr. Hughes, In one respect, 
la open to criticism. He rarely u ever sounds the 
"g" In syllables ending In " tog.” He would say 
"exceedingly,” "Htraggltu’,” "governin’,” " leav 
In',” etc. He pronounces “been” as most English 
people do, “ beau”—and wMch, according to 
Richard Grant White, Is the correct way. After 
he had concluded hla talk of an hour and & half, 
the college conferred upon him the degree of Doc¬ 
tor of Laws. The degree was con ferred upou h im 
in Latin and he responded in that tongue, although 
quite surprised at. the honor extended him, show¬ 
ing that at least some of the Latin that he learned 
at Rugby belonged to Mm yet. 
As we were leaving the college we met Mr. 
George W. Childs, whose guest. Mr. Hughes was, 
in Philadelphia, and with Ms usual ready tact, he 
presented us to Mr. Hughes, who shook hands as 
cordially as ir he had not already had Mb hand 
nearly shaken off In tbl3 much hand-shaking 
country. He showed a genial, hearty, even jolly 
manner, as If his heart was as young yet as any 
school boy’s, and It was easy to see that he must 
be greatly beloved by the people who know him. 
He says that Dickens went through this country 
with Ms eyes shut—otherwise he would never 
have written about Americans as he did. Mr. 
Hughes’ memory of faces is not so good as Gen 
Grant’s, for example, for when we were Introduced! 
he remarked with an expression of gladness, " I 
thought l remembered your faces, ” and it was the 
ffrst Ume that he had ever seen them! He evi¬ 
dently does not like our protection system, for he 
said that straw hats cost so much last Summer 
when he came here, that he couldn't or wouldn’t 
pay the prices asked: but he tound that he could 
buy a new copy of his last book for three oenta, 
ana bought it. That must have been because of 
the enterprise of “The American Book Exchange.” 
Mary Wager-Fishbk. 
- - . - 
BRIC-A-BRAC. 
" Just look at my thimble,” said a young lady 
to her beau; *• it Is actually worn out. Don't you 
think I ought tc be rewarded for my industry ?” 
The young man replied that he thought she 
should be, and the nest day he sent her a new cap 
for her Unger with the following lines: 
“ I send you a tbtmbl© for Angers nimble, 
Which I hope will fit when you try it; 
It will last you long if its half as strong 
Aa the hint which you gave me to buy it." 
To a complaining scBscRiBBKWe are sorry 
you don’t like the paper. We publish it simply to 
please you. We should ask you to come down to 
the office and edit It, only that if you did, some 
idiot might write to teu you how much better he 
