THE RURAL NEW-YORKER. 
fitmtrjr Utisdlaiqj, 
LEAVE THE FORT. 
BY A. VAN DYKE. 
“ Hold the Fort, for I am coming-!” 
This has been the cry too long- 
We must now j>ut on our armor. 
And go forth to meet tho wren#. 
Let the feeble aud the cowards, 
8till the walls and earthworks shield, 
But the strong and valiant soldier 
Loves to fight In oj>eu field. 
Leave the Fort, howe’er securely 
All its mighty towers are made. 
Plants, whose natures crave the sunlight, 
Cannot, prosper tu the shade; 
So the soul of noble impulse, 
With a firm aud manly port, 
Boldly marches forth to battle; 
Brother, sister. Leave the Fort! 
There are evils past enduring. 
There arc victories to be gained ; 
Leave the Fort, howe’er alluring, 
There’s no siege to be sustained. 
Let our warfare be aggressive; 
Duty, danger, let us court; 
TheD our life will be progressive. 
Brother, siBter, " Louve the Fort!” 
All along the line of action 
Let tills better icatrhwonl ring. 
Scorning party, creed and faction. 
Loyal out a to our King— 
“ No man’s man, but God and country’s, 
Honest , and of good report— 
Let us walk "as in the daylight." 
Brothers, sisters, "Leave the Fort /" 
[The Inter-Ocean. 
AN UGLY GIRL. 
CHAPTER I. 
“Not there yet, Noel? How slowly we move! 
This is certainly the worst railway In every re¬ 
spect that I ever traveled on!” 
Noel Estcourt, aroused from a reverie by the 
complaint of his stepmother—a large, fair, well- 
preserved woman, who would have still been con¬ 
sidered handsome but for the fretful lines around 
her mouth—strove to soothe her with the assur¬ 
ance that another twenty minutes would And them 
at. their journey’s end. 
“Twenty minutes I Ts It possible? Why, we 
shall be nearly a quarter of an Uour behind time," 
she commented, In the same peevish strain, “ and 
the funeral Is fixed for tour o'clock, aud It must be 
five miles from the station to Carlsforde Park. 
Here's railway punctuality for you! They ought 
to be made to keep better time I" 
“ And never have ftuy accidents, nor lose lug¬ 
gage, nor tu uuy other way disoblige an &si\imnt 
public,” Noel retorted, with a smile. “ After all, 
we shall not be more than five minutes late, so we 
can afTord to forgive the guilty cause of the delay, 
whoever he may be." 
“ Ah! yes, you are fond of talking In that care¬ 
less strain aad forgetting toe. 1 ought to have at 
least an hour to myself when we reach the Park, 
How can I make my appearance before strangers 
with my face brick-red with heat and dust, and 
my heart palpltatiug like—like I don’t know what, 
and all through somebody’s carelessness?” 
“That unfortunate somebody!” muttered Noel, 
between his teeth. “ It’s well for him he’s not. 
here.” 
“What are you saying? Quoting poetry? If 
there Is anything I detest. It’s having stupid verses 
quoted at me. Another stoppage! This makes 
the twentieth station we have called at. Pm sure 
of it! Anyone but you, Noel, would write to the 
directors, aud ask them if this ts wbat. they call 
studying the convenience of the public ?” 
“ And point out that when you and 1 condescend 
to make use of their line everyone else ought to 
make way Tor us. Would they set me down as a 
madman or a fool ?” he queried, with such a quiz¬ 
zical look that It offended her, 
“ How can you talk such sheer nonsense, Noel!” 
his stepmother responded, with an Important air. 
“A week ago It. was very different, and I daresay 
your letter would not Uavo been noticed, for you 
have never asserted yourself as you ought to have 
done. You have never been one of those energetic 
men who will get on In the world, no matter how." 
“ Your last three words convey the reason for 
It,” he retorted, with a slight, frown, for this was a 
subject on which they never agreed. “ 1 have al¬ 
ways considered It better to put up with a small 
salary, honestly earned, than listen to offers of 
help or advice which I should soli my conscience 
by accepting.” 
“ My cousin Barnett means you well, aud Is a 
very clever man,” Mrs. Estcourt replied, severely, 
"lam sure the money he has made la something 
wonderful, and, as he has told you again and again, 
In business it Is no use being so over scrupulous, 
especially when there's suoh a large family as 
your poor dear father left me with to be provided 
tor.” 
“ I have always done my utmost to prevent you 
or my half-sisters feeling your loss too sensibly,” 
Noel reminded her, his brow contracting a little as 
countless sacrifices of his own needs and wishes 
made for their aakes rushed Into his memory, and 
he remembered also how seldom they hod been 
appreciated. 
Mrs. Estcourt. winced, inti quickly mode answer: 
“ Oh! yes, you have been very kind; but it Isn’t 
generous to remind me of these things, and you 
are running away from the subject we were dis¬ 
cussing—this horrid railway! We shall be late; 
they will be waiting for us, for of course the 
funeral cortege cannot leave the house fill you 
arrive to take your place as chief mourner; and 1 
shall be flushed and perhaps hysterical.” 
“Ihope not,” Interposed Noel, In alarm. “If 
you think there ts any danger of that, you had 
better stay at the hotel In- the village till the eve¬ 
ning.” 
“ I have made up my mind to be present,” Mrs. 
Estcourt answered, deliberately, "and nothing 
shall prevent it. Why do you Interrupt me so 
rudely ? You know as well as I do, that the train 
ought—do you hear, Noel ?— aught to be In to Its 
time, and as for saying that a remonstrance from 
you would be not listened to, you cannot forget that 
you are now the vtscotmt Carlsforde, a peer of the 
realm, and one of the first men In the county.” 
Noel made her a low how. and merrily thanked 
her for keeping him In mind of his new dignities; 
but tbe next moment he looked thoughtful again. 
“ I scarcely realize It yet. It seemed so strange 
to wake up one morning a banker’s clerk In a shab¬ 
by coat, and be told that I had Inherited the title of 
a man whose name T never remember to have 
heard my father mention above onee or twice In 
his life I” 
“Your poor papa had so many queer notions,” 
said Mrs. Estcourt, disparagingly. " lie carried his 
humility and forbearance to such a ridiculous ex¬ 
cess, that—” 
“ He was a wise man as well as a good man,” In¬ 
terrupted her stepson, In a tone that warned her 
she was going roo rar. “ I have no doubt that as 
be knew there wore then living two comparatively 
healthy men nearer of kin to the viscount than we 
were, he abstained from mentioning remote con¬ 
tingencies, lest they should raise hopes that might 
never be realized. But here we are at Colby I” 
** Why cUdnT you tell me we were so near ?” de¬ 
manded the lady, peevishly. •• If there’s anything 
I detest, it’s being hunled In getting out of a rail¬ 
way-carriage: one Is sure to drop one’s hand¬ 
kerchief or one’s shawl, or leave something behind 
altogether! How thoughtless you are, Noel!” 
However, it was by Noel’s care that any such 
disasters were prevented, and ere long they were 
bowling along the road to Carlsforde Park—the 
fair and almost princely domain of the late Vis¬ 
count—In the handsome carriage and pair sent to 
the station to meet them. 
Mrs. Estcourt leaned back on the cushions with 
a complacent air. For some years past Hhe had 
been forced to content herself with taking her con¬ 
stitutionals, and paying her visits by the vulgar 
medium of a cab or an omnibus, and the change 
from genteel poverty, which in her case meant 
bad management and continual grumbling, shab¬ 
by dresses, a slip-shod servant, and a small house, 
to the luxuries she expected to enjoy In the man- 
| slon of her stepson, promised to be a very delight¬ 
ful one. 
Already In fancy she saw herself at the head of 
a large household, receiving and returning the 
calls of the county families. Already she saw the 
children whose romps and squabbles had been an 
erdtess source of worry and discomfort, banished 
to a uursery; and Irene, her eldest daughter, the 
awkward, unmanageable, eccentric girl of sixteen, 
who obeyed no authority, listened to no remon¬ 
strances but her half-brother’s, placed under the 
surveillance of a governess, and taught to deport 
herself like a young lady with expectations of a 
handsome dowry. 
A glaoee at the sober face of hex companion, and 
another at her own deep mourning, reminded her 
that these duy-dreams were scarcely suited to so 
solemn an occasion, and she sat silent tor a few 
mluutes. Bur Mrs. Estcourt was of too restless a 
disposition to remain so for a long period. 
“You’re sure, Noel, that you did not ask the 
lawyer who brought the news of your succession 
to the title, what would be tbe amount of the 
annual income?" 
“Quito sure; he was in haste, and 1 was too 
much astonished to question him much.” 
“Still he ought to have Informed you; or you 
should have called me Into the room. I should 
not have been simple enough to let him go away 
with his tale but half told.” 
“ Docs It signify?” asked Noel, wearily. “ Lord 
C'arlsforde’s will Is to be read after the funeral, and 
It will give us all the Information we require. I 
know that the bulk of the property was at his own 
disposal, and that 1 am the only relative he had to 
inhcri t It. Will not that suffice ?” 
“ Who will do the honors of your house to-day ?” 
was the next, query. “ ought I not to take up my 
position as Its mistress as soon as I enter It ? I 
daresay the servants have had It all their own way. 
aud robbed us shamefully ever since they have 
been left to their own devices! They’ll not And 
me easily hoodwinked, I con toll them. 1 shall In¬ 
sist on having lists of every article under their 
charge, and seeing for myself that nothing Is miss¬ 
ing.” 
Noel was tempted to toll her that If the noble 
mansion they were approaching was to be Ills fu¬ 
ture home, It certainly would uot be here. As the 
widow of his father, she had claims upon him which 
he would never Ignore; but he neither liked nor re¬ 
spected her; he was weary of her exactions, her 
tretrul murmurlngs, her continual appeals to him 
w hen her children proved contumacious, and he 
would gladly allow her an ample Income for the 
pleasure of being master of his own house, and 
freeing himself from the thraldom oi her presence. 
However, he contented himself with asking 
whether any arrangement they might enter into 
would not. be rather premature, aud Mrs. Estcourt, 
seeing they were dose to the houses said no more, 
but. composed her countenance Into a becoming ex¬ 
pression of grief; shook out her skirts, smoothed 
her crape, and hoped, in an audible whisper, that 
tiresome Irene would remember all her injunctions 
and not let tho little ones fly paper kites out of the 
attic window, as they were In the habit of doing 
bo it said, to the terror of the neighbors and the 
imminent risk of their own lives. 
CHAPTER II. 
Half-a-dozen elderly gentlemen, Including the 
late viscount’s solicitor and medical man, were 
awaiting with some curiosity the appearance of 
the new lord. Ills family history had been already 
whispered by one to another ; everyone knew that 
Ills father had died suddenly and In difficulties, 
caused by unavoidable losses, and that this young 
man had bravely taken upon his shoulders the 
burden of tbe fretful stepmother and her unruly 
little ones; but they were scarcely prepared to see 
him personally, at all events, so well fitted for his 
new position. 
His cares and the drudgery they entailed had 
neither made him splenetic nor prematurely old. 
He carried himself with the manly ease of one 
whose mind is us vigorous as hLs body, and who, 
under all difficulties, has preserved his self-respect. 
A little round-shouldered he might be from 
stooping over the desk, and Ills eyes dulled and 
sunken from being over-tried, yet only requiring a 
few weeks' repose and fresh air to carry off these 
signs of business Ufe and brown the cheek, which 
had gulued a sallow tinge In the close streets and 
offices of the city. 
While a few-necessary arrangements were being 
attended to, Noel eutered Into conversation with 
the other gentlemen, and learned a few particulars 
respecting the kinsman he had never knowingly 
beheld. 
Lord Carlsforde, they told him, had been a shy, 
studious man, never keeping up any intercourse 
with his neighbors. On the few occasions when 
he could not avoid mingling with them, he had 
been courteous, but dOstraU. ills happiness was 
only to be found in his library or his picture-gal¬ 
lery ; If he left home, It was but to secure some 
rare tome or relic of the old masters. 
The consequence was, that his house was filled 
with beautiful and valuable articles, whilst the 
weeds grew up to the door, and his face had been 
comparatively unknown to those who dwelt upon 
his estate. 
Noel’s Informants were politely congratulating 
themselves and him that all these things would 
now be altered, when they were summoned to take 
their places In tho funeral cortege. 
With all due reverence the remains of the de¬ 
ceased peer were borne to the Uttle church that 
stood at no great distance from the house, and laid 
in the family vault. 
Everyone who assisted at the ceremony was 
feasted In the usual fashion, and then Noel, the 
present Lord Carlsforde, awompanled the solicitor 
and an old friend of the late Vlseount—a gray¬ 
haired Lieutenant-colonel In the dragoons, who 
had Journeyed from the Curragh to pay the last 
rites to the comrade or his youth—Into the draw¬ 
ing-room, where Mrs. Estcourt, awaited them. 
The housekeeper was bearing her company, and 
endeavoring to perform the duties of hospitality 
In a saUsfaotory manner; but the Injured expres¬ 
sion of her countenance, and the consequential 
manner In which Mrs. Estcourt sipped her tea. 
revealed to the experienced Noel that, his step¬ 
mother had been giving herself airs already. 
She beckoned Mr. Whltely, the solicitor, to her 
side as soon as he entered the room. Intending to 
subject 1dm to a searching cross-examination; 
but the lawyer was In haste, and begged that he 
might be permitted to read at once the testamen¬ 
tary papers he held In his hand. 
(To be continued.) 
-- 
WEAKER THAN A WOMAN. 
(Continued from pa^e 306.) 
CHAPTER XLV. 
Aix Loamshire was shaken to Its very center. 
Such news had not been heard In the neighbor¬ 
hood for years; there was a general sentiment of 
rejoicing. Lady Maude Arlington was going to be 
married—Lady Maude, whom all the Inhabitants 
of the country looked upon as a princess. Whom 
was she going to marry ? That was the question 
every one asked. And the answer gave universal 
pleasure. It was the hero of the victoria cross- 
Major Rawson. F.very one was delighted with the 
alliance. Lady Maude was so beloved; while the 
name of Major Rawson was known wherever 
bravery or valor was honored. 
The county awoke suddenly. There had been 
muuy queens since Lady Maude first began to 
reign, but none were like her; and Loamshire 
awoke to the kuowledge that it was about to lose 
Its chief on lament, and that the time was come to 
do all honor to the Earl’s daughter. 
No one was more delighted than Felix. In tits 
heart he thought no one good enough for the noble, 
beautiful woman whom he admired, and who had 
been to him the best and truest of friends. He 
was sorry to lose her; he knew that Bramber Tow- 
era would never again be what It had been while 
she reigned there ; at the same time he was de¬ 
lighted that her noble life had Its reward In a no¬ 
ble love. 
Lady Maude could have told how she had loved 
the brave soldier before he went to the war in 
Which he had gained such renown. She could 
have told how she had garnered her love In her 
heart , and had kept It as a priceless treasure, nev¬ 
er dreaming that It could have a happy ending, 
yet preferring to love a hero, and love in vain, than 
to be the wife or a peer. 
But Major Rawson loved her, and there was no 
obstacle to their marriage. He was heir to an an¬ 
cient title, too, aud a large fortune. She had a for¬ 
tune of her own. So all Loamshire awoke and 
roused itself to do honor to the marriage of its 
queen. 
The marriage was to take place at the old parish 
of Lifford. Lady Maude would have it so. The Coun¬ 
tess of Arlington had suggested London, and St, 
George’s, Hanover Square. Lady Maude had 
laughed. 
** Let It be in the old church on the hill, mam¬ 
ma,” she had said. “ It Is an odd fancy, but I 
think 1 should not feel that I had been married 
unless those solemn old oaks had shaken their 
heads over me, and the rooks had held a confer¬ 
ence about my wedding. 
So, us Lady Maude had had her way all her life, 
she had It, now, and the ceremony was performed 
In the old church. 
'the rejoicings were great and many. It would 
have done any one’s heart good to have seen the 
ceremony, and the crowds of children with flow¬ 
ers to strew before the bride—to have seen the 
poor, the old, the infirm, all going up to the church 
to have one last look at, Uer who had been so good 
to them all. It was a magnificent ceremony. 
Peers and peeresses, with some of the first people 
In the land, were there. The little gTay church 
seemed to be filled with smiling faces and costly 
dresses. But to Lady Maude nothing on her wed¬ 
ding-day was so dear or so precious as the bless¬ 
ings of the children and the poor. 
The wedding-break fast was given at Bramber 
Towers—and so goodly a number had never sat 
there before. Mr. arid Mrs. Lonsdale, with Felix, 
were Invited. Of all the guests who clustered 
round the beautiful bride to bid her farewell, 
she gave most heed to Felix. She went aside with 
him for a moment, for she read In his face that he 
longed to say something to her. She never lorgot 
the few words that he did say. She laid her hand 
In his for a second ; he bent down and kissed It, 
with tears In his eyes. 
“ How am I to thank you. Lady Maude," he said, 
for all that you have done for me ? You came to 
me in the darkest moment of my life ; and I owe 
to you, after Heaven, all that I am. How must I 
thank you ?” 
She looked up with a smile Into the handsome 
face that was full of emotion. 
“ Y'ou can thank me best,” she replied, “ by be¬ 
ing, as the story-books say, good and happy now 
and henceforward.” 
“ I will try.” he said; “ and no one, Lady Maude, 
says 1 Heaven bless you’ more fervently than I do— 
I whom you saved from ruin.” 
As they drove down the long avenue, amidst 
cheers, and shouts, and good wishes that were 
enougli to deafen them. Major Rawson turned 
with a smile on Ills lips to his wife. 
“ I did not know that you had such a royal dow¬ 
ry, Maude.” 
“ What dowry do you mean ?” she asked 
“ The dowry of blessings from young and old. 
rich and poor. What have you doue to make these 
people all love you so ?” 
she raised her eyes to his. 
“ I have done nothing but my duty,” she re¬ 
plied. 
“ Then you have done It with grace and sweet¬ 
ness,” he said. “ Teach me to do mine as well. If 
I could hear as many blessings follow me as follow 
you, 1 should lx- happy.” 
“ Are you not happy now ?’’ she asked with a 
charming smile. 
His answer was prompt and decisive. 
Knowing Mias Lester’s secret predilection for 
hearing news, that she was too proud to seek, 
Felix went over to the Outlands a few days after¬ 
wards. He had not seen Eve lately, and was anx¬ 
ious about her. lie had heard Kate say that, she 
was not looking well—that she had grown thin 
and pale, and seem to have lost some of her old 
bright spirit; and those few words had made 
Felix anxious. Finding one evening that he had 
an hour’s leisure, he thought that he could not do 
better than devote It to her. 
Miss Lester was looking a little more cross and 
Impatient Uiaai usual when the young lawyer 
greeted her, and he asked what was the matter. 
“Iam not pleased about the corn.” she replied 
briefly. 
“I am sorry to hear It. What is the matter 
with It?” 
“ It does not ripen as it. should,” she replied. 
“ That must he the rault of the sun," said Felix. 
“ No matter what is to blame, the misfortune 
Is just the same.” returned Miss Lester. “What 
has brought you here to-night, Mr. Felix ? I saw 
your name In the Loamshire Gazette. You were 
present at all the gay doings at Bramber Towers.” 
“ Yes," he replied, “ 1 was there.” 
“ Then tell me all about Lady Maude’s marriage. 
It Is not often that one has the opportunity of 
hearing about such grand affairs; tell me every¬ 
thing that you remember.” 
“ I came on purpose to do so," said Felix. “I 
thought you would be pleased to hear about it. 
But shall we not wait tor Eve? Perhaps she would 
he Interested too. 
“No,” replied Atlas Lester, "she would not—un¬ 
less It were about a marriage In the moon. I tell 
her always that she Is watting to marry the man 
In the moon. Bit down here by these bee-hives. 
Never mind the bees; they will not sting you un¬ 
less you interfere with them. As I sit here I can 
see what Is going on around me; and no man Is 
idle while my eyes are on him. Tell me about 
Lady Maude first, Do you know, I heard a foolish 
rumor once, FelLx Lonsdale ?” 
“ I am afraid you have heard a great many 
false rumors In your time, Miss Lester,” he re¬ 
marked. “ It seems to me that the world is full 
of them; What was the one you refer to ?” 
“I heard that you were In love with Lady 
Maude, and that she liked you,” said Miss Jane 
solemnly. 
He laughed so heartily that she felt at once 
there was no truth in It. Her grim face relaxed 
at the sound of his mirth. 
“ How absurd 1” he said. “ There ts no lady In 
England whom I hold In higher reverence and es¬ 
teem than Lady Maude. As for being In love with 
her, It Is sufficient to say that she Is an earl’s 
daughter ; and lu my own fashion 1 am as proud 
as a king. I would no more marry a rich woman, 
and live on her money, than I would cheat or 
steal.” 
He marvelled why Miss Jane looked so Intently 
at him. 
“I wonder It you will always think so?” she 
said earnestly, 
“lam quite sure that I shall. I think Indepen¬ 
dence a noble quality, and one to which English¬ 
men especially may lay claim. I have a great re¬ 
spect for It, and shall ever exercise it." 
“ Now tell me about the wedding,” said Miss Les¬ 
ter. And FelLx gave her a most animated account 
of It. 
She was delighted, and would have listened to 
him for another hour, hut that her keen eyes de- 
