JUNE H 
THE RURAL NEW-YORKER 
fittrarj HttsrcUaiqj, 
DEAD-YET SPEAKING. 
[The following beautiful and senannabln verses, 
which wo coi>y from tho Independent) were rend at 
the services of commemoration of the Confederate 
dead nt. Huntsville. Alabama, on the 13th inst-, by Miss 
Lutie Merlwothor. daughter of the poet. Mrs. Ude 
Meriwether, who it will be aeon has Imbued her lines 
with patriotic fervor worthy the ora of brotherly loye. 
—Memphis Appeal. 
Where broad Ohio rolls her Bands to Biiniit shores 
away. 
Within a silent city stands a shaft of granite gray, 
Beared by a father’s loving hand above two noble 
boys, 
The sunlight of his household band—the crowning of 
his Joys ; 
One wore the blue, aud fought beneath the spangled 
banner gay ; 
The other bore the southern cross—he “ died and wore 
the gray. 
Inscribed on one side, is tho name of him who wore 
the blue. 
His age—the battle where he fell—bearing his banner 
true; 
The other boars the honored name of him who wore 
the gray 
With simple record how he fell—first in the bloody 
fray} 
The third side holds no laurel crown, no paean from 
the fight, 
Only these sad and humble words—” But God knows 
which was right.” 
Few words aud simple! at whose sound a nation’s 
tears shaU Btart, 
Born of a mother's deathless love, a father’s steadfast 
heart; 
May Time, the great consoler, the redresser of all 
wrong, 
A nation's resurrection see whose voice shall swell the 
song— 
" All honor to tho soldier who, with purpose pure and 
bright, 
In gray, or blue, fell, tried aud true, to what he deemed 
the right.” 
The true, the tried, the sacrificed, are with us now—at 
eve 
They float around us in the shapes these twilight 
shadows weave, 
Like lulling waters fall their loving voices on the ear. 
Their shadow forms float upward, through this glow- 
lug atmosphere, 
As day, departing, leaves behind tho glory of his 
beams 
In purple, on yon mountain sides, and gold upon the 
streams. 
We feel, that though invisible, their true and steadfast 
eyes 
Arc looking down upon us from the quiet of the skies ; 
We hear their voices in each breeze that murmurs 
softly by, 
Its music thrills among the trees, stirred by the winds 
low sigh. 
And spirit voices blent in prayer, float up to heaven’s 
hight! 
“ Keep these, our brothers, iu Thy care! God guide 
them to the Bight!" 
Then scatter laurel o’er the brave, and lilies o’er the 
true , 
Enwreathe with bloom each lowly grave-f his soldier 
died for you; 
And let no martyr die in vain ; but from each grave 
ascend 
An Easter flowor of new-born Love—triumphant to 
the end! 
Clothed in the perfect panoply of Charity’s great 
might 
Uphold us with Thy mighty hand! God, keep tis in 
the right! 
AN UGLY GIRL. 
(Continued from page 387.) 
CHAPTER XXIII. 
SUMMONED HOME. 
Irene was Indeed In need of consolation, as her 
perturbed face testified when she came in to her 
brother's room soon after. 
" was there ever such an unfortunate girl as 1 
am?” she sobbed. “ I never was so bappy be¬ 
fore; but It’s all over, aud Mrs. Hurst was to have 
taken me to tho flower-show at Corby next week, 
In a new grenadine, black, with white stripes. 
I knew it couldn’t last! 1 was sure of it!" 
“ What? The flower-show ? For goodness sake 
do learn to express yourself more clearly V cried 
Noel, whom element Dunforth’s observations bad 
thrown into a state of Irritability quite foreign to 
bis nature. “ At whose expense was this new 
dress purchased? If at mine, 1 plainly tell you 
that It is not in my power to pay for any addi¬ 
tions to your wardrobe ; if not, l forbid you to ac¬ 
cept tho gifts of comparative strangers.” 
“ If Mi's, llurst chooses to be good-natured 
enough to buy me a pretty dross, and never tell 
me what she had done till the dressmaker brought 
It home—and such a beautiful fit! 1 never looked 
so nice before!—1 don't know why 1 should refuse," 
retorted Irene, sullenly; “more particularly as 
llllilan says that Miss carlsforde wishes every at¬ 
tention paid to me. She may be ugly, but she’s 
very kind, and I’ve enjoyed myself here immense¬ 
ly; but it’s all over. Mamma wants me home, 
and I must, go.” 
" I thought Mrs. Estcourt agreed to your remain¬ 
ing till 1 am myself able to accompany you to 
town,” her brother said. 
“Yes; but Maggie—poor, little, loving Maggie Is 
ill. she's a dear child, Noel, though she does kick 
and tight so terribly when you otrend her; and 
she never bites any one but me. It's a fever, rna 
says, and the child cries for me incessantly; and 
there’s the others to be kept away from the Infec¬ 
tion; ami mtt says truly, she can’t do every tiling; 
not that, she’s ever tried since I have known any¬ 
thing about It. Oh, dear! there's always some¬ 
thing disagreeable happening In this uneven world 
just when you don’t want it to. If mu had written 
the day after I had that fright In the library, I 
should have been quite willing to go; but now—" 
She nnlshed with a doleful sigh, and Noel, who 
marveled that Mrs. Estcourt should have been so r 
thoughtless as to send for her daughter and expose 1 
her to the danger of catching a contagious disease, s 
began to reassure her. 
“ I will write to your mother, Irene, and point 1 
out to her what she appears to have overlooked— i 
that you may be attacked by this complaint, if you ( 
go home just now. An experienced nurse from one 
of the hospitals must be procured.” I < 
“ No, don’t, write,” cried the girl, Jumping up, i 
and dashing away her tears. “ I must go, Noel. ' 
Though I cannot help being sorry to leave Carts- i 
forde, I mean to do so.” 
“ Not if 1 oppose It." 
“ Yes, whether you do or do not oppose It,” she I 
answered, firmly. •* Maggie's my own little sister, 
and I could not rest here knowing that she was 
left to the mercy of strangers.” 
The child has her mother,” said Noel. 
Irene gave a contemptuous sniff. 
“ As If you did not know that ma never is a bit 
of use In Illness! Don’t say any more, brother 
mine. Maggie wants me, and l will go to her. You 
would. If you were In my place; and though I 
know I arn silly and flighty enough in trivial 
things, whenever there comes a serious trouble, I 
always ask myself how you would act, and try to 
do the same.” 
Noel drew her to lilm, and kissed her affection¬ 
ately. 
“My dear little sister, I know you are deciding 
rightly, and yet I cannot bear to let you run into 
danger. But here Ls Dr. Monson. Bhow him Mrs. 
Estcourt’s letter. Perhaps, In her alarm, she has 
exaggerated the child’s symptoms. At all events, 
he will tell us how we ought to act.” 
Dr. Monson, who was wont to lay aside bis pro¬ 
fessional gravity when he encountered his patient’s 
vivacious sister, looked serious when the affair 
was first laid before him; but he did not strength¬ 
en Noel's opposition to Irene’s departure, on t he 
contrary, he gave her such an approving look, that 
she blushed and wondered she had never before 
discovered what fine expressive eyes her brother’s 
medico possessed. 
“ If Miss Estcourt will read, and be guided by 
a few instructions 1 will Jot down for her," Dr. 
Monson said, “ I see no objection to her nursing 
the sick child. Borne one must do It; and who 
will set about It as tenderly as her sister ?" 
“ Then I will go with her!’’ exclaimed Noel. •* It 
will not hurt me to be carried to the railway-sta¬ 
tion. and I believe that I should bear the fatigue 
of tbe Journey better than you all Imagine.” 
“Possibly you would," his doctor rejoined; “ bat 
please to bear in mind that if you did not, you 
would have to be nursed as well as the little girl. 
Miss Estcourt would be In a pretty position truly 
with two Invalids on her hands.” 
Noel groaned. *and acknowledged that he must 
relinquish this Idea; but. st ill he could not endure 
the thought of letting Irene return home alone, I 
and to such a trying task, fie knew too well that I 
far from receiving any help from her mother, the I 
silly, weak-minded woman would increase her 
difficulties with her own fretful maunderlngs. 
He began to hint that he feared his sister would 
find [her task a more trying one than she could 
perform, when Dr. Monson, who had been looking 
from one to the other, and cogitating profoundly. 
Interposed In a very peremptory fashion. 
“ I cannot have you harassed and upset In your 
present state, Lord Carlsforde. My professional 
honor Is concerned In making a perfect cure of 
my patient; and I shall never be able to accom¬ 
plish It If your nerves are acted upon in this way. 
Your pulse Is galloping already; so away with 
you; Miss Estcourt, make your preparations for 
your journey, and I’ll drive you to the station. 
Then I shall lie able to ensure the briefest of 
leave-takings; more than that, It will enable me 
to telegraph to a good woman of my acquaintance, 
who will be very glad to help you nurse your little 
sister ” 
“Oh! Dr. Monson, how good you are!” cried 
Irene gratefully. 
“ Not a bit of It,” was the bluff reply. “ I want, 
to get rid of you, and Mrs. Baynes ls bothering 
me to And her sometntng to do ; so I shall kill two 
birds with one stone.”’ 
Irene, who was hurrying from the room to ap¬ 
prise Mrs. Hurst and llllilan of her Immediate de¬ 
parture, came back to look anxiously in the Doc¬ 
tor’s face, and ask why he was so eager to hasten 
her away. Did he think she had done Noel any 
harm ? 
“ Not halt as much ns you’ll do me If you de¬ 
tain me here, when T ought to be attending to my 
other patients!" he retorted, so gruffly, that she 
did not venture to delay any longer; and Noel saw 
no more of her till she ran In to bid him farewell. 
As Dr. Monson had accepted Mrs. Hurst’s otter 
of some luncheon, the brother and sister were left 
alone. 
“ Yes—yes; I will write,’’ Irene said, In answer 
to his injunctions; “ and you must answer my let¬ 
ters promptly. I shall be wearying for news of 
you and dear Carlsforde.” 
“Of course, Mr. Dunforth will escort you to 
town. Dear Irene, make rne one promise before 
we part; that you will not be persuaded Into a 
basty marriage.” 
“ There Is no danger of that,” she pouted. “ Cle¬ 
ment has quite forgotten what a hurry he was In 
to call me his.” 
•• I am glad he sees the necessity of prudence," 
was the reply. 
“ I’m not!” Irene frankly said. “ 1 liked him a 
great deal better when he did not make money of 
so much Importance as love. I’ve no objection to 
being rich, but if one must scheme to be so. I’d 
rather remain poor.” 
What did she mean? her brother Inquired ; but 
she shook her head aud answered that there was 
not time to tell him, only that Clement Dunforth 
was greatly changed since he came to Carlsforde, 
and that It was all owing to llllilan Gray. 
“ lroue, you arc unjust 1" 
•* Am l ? You’ll teu me next that I’m not justi¬ 
fied in calling her deceitful I” cried Irene, angrily. 
“ But she Is—she ls I or why does she pretend to 
me that she does not like Clem, and yet talk with 
him , walk with him, consult him, tell him aU her 
secrets, and monopolize 1dm so continually, that If 
I were Inclined to be Jealous, which I am not-. 
But there Is Dr. Monson calling me. Good-bye, 
dearest Noel! Get well as quickly as you can, and 
don’t be anxious about, me.” 
She dashed away, catching her dress In the han¬ 
dle of the door, and making such a long rent that 
ghe had to pin It up before she could go any fur¬ 
ther, and, when half-way down stall’s, came run¬ 
ning back for the shawl and parasol dropped by 
Noel's bedside when she bade h i m farewell. 
Dr. Monson stumped about the hall. Ills watch 
In his hand, predicting that they would be too late 
for the train, even If he drove all the way at a 
break-neck pace; but when he saw the tears glis¬ 
tening on Irene's eyelashes as he handed her Into 
his carriage, his displeasure melted away, and he 
sharply snubbed Clement Dunforth, who com¬ 
mented satirically on the length of young ladies- 
leavo-taklngs. 
“ My sister has had a miserable day for her jour¬ 
ney,” Noel observed, with a glance at the lowering 
sky, when llllilan Gray brought him the evening 
papers. 
“ Mrs. Hurst took care that she had plenty of 
wraps,” said llllilan, coldly. 
“Thanks; and Dunforth ls with her. He 
will not let her run any risks. By the way, he 
omitted in come aud bid me farewell.” 
“ Mr. Dunforth may have thought It unnecessa¬ 
ry. as he will so soon return.” 
“ Return here!" exclaimed Noel, making no at¬ 
tempt to conceal his surprise. “ I was given to 
understand that It was solely on Irene's account 
that he was lingering so long.” 
Hllllan moved slowly towards the door, and 
made no reply, till, provoked at her silence, he 
added, meaningly: 
“ Perhaps Dunforth has other Inducements for 
his frequent visits to Carlsforde.” 
HlUlan’s eyes suddenly flashed- an angry glance 
at him. 
“ You say 'perhaps;’ yet who can know better 
than you, who are In his confidence, why Mr. Dun¬ 
forth intends returning here?” 
“I”— and Noel's tone was as resentful as her 
own—“ In the confidence of a man whom I do not 
hesitate to tell you I distrust! But, pardon me, 
Miss Gray; I had forgotten that you regard him 
as a friend. I did not Intend to hurt your feelings 
by speaking In these terms of a person whom you 
have admitted to such Intimacy that you have 
scarcely a look or a word to spare for anyone 
eLse.” 
Illlllan’s cheeks became scarlet, and ber Ups un¬ 
closed as If she were about to utter an indignant 
retort; but she checked herself, and, gently bow¬ 
ing her head, went away. 
CHAPTER XXIV. 
ANSWERED AT LAST 
When once more alone, Noel endeavored to take 
a dispassionate review of those circumstances In 
the conduct of HUllan Gray, which were not only 
perplexing and distressing him, but which went 
so far to confirm everything he had heard from 
Clement Dunrorth. Sometimes he wished that he 
had never suffered his anxiety to ascertain how 
far the tale Irene's betrothed told of their former 
rencnntrrs could be true to Induce hhn to question 
her; she had been so friendly, so charmingly frank 
with him till then, and the Ignorance, that the 
poet declared to be bliss, was undoubtedly pleas¬ 
anter in this case than the doubts and reserve that 
bad ensued. He had fancied two or three times 
lately that her dread of Clement Dunforth's revela¬ 
tions might have been the cause of her chaoged 
demeanor; yet It this were correct why was she 
admitting him to her friendship? If Irene's re¬ 
port could be trusted, her betrothed and Hllllau 
Gray were always seeking opportunities for being 
together; and not eveu the naturally unsuspicious 
temper of the little bride-elect had preserved her 
from twinges of Jealousy. 
Were these two learning to love each other? 
Noel ground Ills teeth, as he thought how he might 
have to be a passive looker-on, while another act 
of man’s fickleness and woman’s weakness was 
played out before him. He would not pretend that 
he should regret the loss of such a lover for Irene; 
but that Hllllan—the pure-minded, refined HUllan 
—should descend from the high place In which he 
had throned her as a good and almost perfect 
woman, and accept the heart of one capable of 
such baseness, was agony. 
It was a relief, even while It provoked him, when 
Mrs. llurst put an end to his solitary musings by 
coming In, followed by a servant carrying her 
work basket. 
“ I only just remembered, my dear lord, that you 
were alone, and that tt would never do to let you 
get low-spirited!” she exclaimed, aa she settled 
herself comfortably beside him; “though, per¬ 
haps, camphor would be better for your nerves 
than my conversation. And your poor, dear sister 
gone! so cheerful always, that it was quite de¬ 
lightful to have her here; though I could have 
wished that she had broken herself of the habit of 
jumping up so suddenly, that the stitches were 
frequently dragged off my knitting-pins, and the 
balls of worsted in all corners of the room; which, 
however, was of no consequence when the dear 
child happened to see what she had done, but In¬ 
volved a great deal of stooping when she didn't; 
but always full of mirth, which HUllan ls not, 
much to my vexation; for 1 do not like to see 
young people mope; they are so apt to get round- 
shouldered, which la ruinous to the figure; and 
wishing one’s-self dead. Lord Carlsforde, is, as I 
have often told her, quite contrary to my notions 
of morality;” and Mrs. Hurst shook her head se¬ 
verely. 
Then HUUan was unhappy! Oh i that he knew 
tlie cause I He seized his tablets, and, with their 
assistance, asked Mrs. Hurst If she could not as¬ 
sign auy reason for her niece’s attack of low 
spirits. 
“ No new ones,” she answered. " HtUlan always 
had been pecuUar; and there had been circum¬ 
stances in her life that would account for any 
young girl being grave beyond hBr years; but 
what was tho use of brooding over the past ? The 
world Ls before her,” Mrs. Hurst went, on, making 
long sweeps in the air with one of her knitting- 
needles. “ If she does not like Carlsforde, she 
need not remain here; there are plenty of adver¬ 
tisements in the papers-to go abroad, you know— 
a pleasant. Intelligent companion, and salary no 
object, and so on; then why should not she and 
some like-minded lady—elderly, of course; I shall 
Insist on her being elderly—go to the Alps, or 
Russia, or Ceylon?—stop, though; do ladles go on 
tours to Ceylon?—and write a book—Hllllan, I 
mean—afterwards. Don’t mind me; as 1 say to 
her, I never cared for gaddings, and would sooner 
sit by an English fireside than visit the court of 
the Shah of Persia, or any other potentate, only 
you must promise to come and see me sometimes, 
my lord. I shall feel myself sadly deserted when 
none of the familiar faces are round me. Some¬ 
how, your accident, sad though It was, has been— 
1 hope, you’ll not be offended at a remark that 
might, be misconstrued; but, really, It has been a 
time that I shall always look back upon with 
pleasure, though not Indifferent to your lordship's 
sufferings; and It will be something to think 
about when quite alone,” 
‘•But Miss Carlsforde?” he wrote; and Mrs. 
Hurst gave her head another grave shake. 
•• I don’t suppose she ever wlU make up her mind 
to live here now. and I don't know who can blame 
her. Not able to go Into society, without friends 
or parents, tt would be frightfully melancholy for 
one so young to live shut up In this great mansion, 
wouldn’t, it? Perhaps, after your lordship has 
gone back to town—very lively there. Isn't It? and 
what the consumption of gas must be. it quite 
puzzles me to think; and a great waste of coal, 
which might be prevented U every one kept better 
hours and went to bed at ten o’clock, as I do. But 
what was I saying? Oh l about this great melan¬ 
choly house. Very likely I shall receive orders to. 
dismiss the servants and shut It up, which I shall 
not altogether regret, as there’s a pretty cottage 
to let near Torquay, where I could sit at my win¬ 
dow and see the visitors and the beach without 
the trouble of dressing and. going out.” 
“ When do you expect to hear from Miss Carls¬ 
forde?” was Noel's next query. 
•* When she has decided on her own plans, I 
suppose she will apprise me of them,” was the 
reply; and then Mrs. Hurst knitted on so tran¬ 
quilly that Noel almost envied her the obtuseness 
—or strength of mind, which was It ’—that ena¬ 
bled her to be so calm under any circumstances. 
Clement Dunforth appeared at Carlsforde on the 
following day, having been, he laughingly declared, 
so summarily dismissed by Irene, that he had only 
just had tlftie to exchange a tew words with Mrs. 
Estcourt ere the door was closed against him. 
However, a letter by an early past brought the 
tidings Noel was so anxious to receive. Little 
Maggie was seriously but not dangerously 111; the 
nurse recommended by Dr. Monson, was the nicest, 
kindest of creatures; and the children were so de¬ 
lighted to have their much-enduring elder sister 
back, that Irene was astonished as well as grati¬ 
fied by the affectionate reception they had given 
her 
“Mamma ls much as usual," the writer added. 
“ she complains of having had to sit up for several 
nights and being quite worn-out with anxiety and 
fatigue, but Maggie says she used to snore dread¬ 
fully, and be so cross If aroused, that 1 don’t think 
it’s quite true. 1 should have sent you a few lines 
by Clem, just to say that things were not as bad as 
we feared, but he was In such a hurry, having 
quite a heap of business matters to attend to, that 
he could scarcely stop to speak to mamma; and he 
so positively refused to come Into the house, that I 
believe he was afraid of catching the fever, which, 
by-tlie-bye, Isn't a (ever at alL” 
“ The fellow ls an arch hypocrite l” exclaimed 
Noel, scornfully. “ A falsehood runs so glibly off 
his tongue, that it ls difficult to decide when he ls 
telling the truth or vice verm. If he ls so ready to 
transfer his allegiance from poor Irene, who has at 
least the merit of being frank and good, to a girl 
whom his own lips have condemned, why does he 
not take the step boldly, and at once ? He shaU 
not play fast and loose with this little sister of 
mine. If he no longer purposes to make her his 
wife, he shall tell me so, and be stung with my 
; candid avowal that 1 am glad of It. Let him wed 
Hllllan Gray, If he Is mean enough to dream that 
l through her he can gain such aid aud patronage as 
It ls In the power of Miss carlsforde to bestow ? if 
Hllllan is as false as he—and Heaven only knows 
whether there ls troth in women at all—why, they 
i will be well matched.” 
i Noel’s suspicions of Clement Dunforth’s rnedl- 
l tated treachery did not diminish with time and 
reflection; and when on the morrow he accldent- 
« ally learned that Irene's betrothed was then walk- 
r lng in the grounds with Miss Gray, with sternly- 
knit brows, he Inwardly vowed that this state of 
» affairs should soon be altered. Mr. Dunforth 
t should no longer scheme under false colors, nor 
? pretend that it was his interest In Irene's brother 
3 that brought him to Carlsforde. ne should either 
come there the avowed lover of Hllllan Gray, or 
r tot at all 
As If In answer to his eager desire to have an 
; interview with Clement at once, the servant ap- 
„ pointed to attend upon him In the temporary ab- 
e senceof Jephsoncame In to say that the gentle¬ 
man who was down stairs wished to know If Lord 
1 carlsforde could see him. 
I “Certainly. Show him up Immediately.” 
s And Noel’s heart, throbbed fast, though he felt 
^ the necessity of being calm and on his guard with 
so wary, so shrewd an antagonist, 
v Judge, Uowever, ids surprise when, Instead of 
r the visitor he expected, a stout bearded German 
walked into the room, and, with rather a melo- 
v dramatic start, paused in the middle of the floor 
and stared at him blankly. 
s “Ao h Htrnmel!” he exclaimed, "here is some 
