Newspaper Page Text
My joy, my relief, almost overpowered me,
bat I eoald not force my new-found happiness
•pon hia misery.
•‘What Miss Laora?"
“I am so glad yon have told me."
“Are yon going to give me some good advice?
“Yes, I believe I am.”
“What is it?”
“Since yon are married to Jodie Martinaale,
claim her.”
“She would never forgive the exposure."
“I think you are mistaken. I believe she is
waiting for you to do so.”
“And her father?” ...
“Would prefer anything to the humiliation of
a secret marriage.”
“Possibly he might invalidate the marriage,
should he determine to.” .
“Then marry her again. But, Mr. Keith, if
J on are as good as I believe you, I think Mr.
lartindale is too just to persist in separating
yen from his daughter merely because he has a
prejudice toward artists, and particulaly toward
Englishmen who live abroad.”
“I will live anywhere he pleases if he will
only give me Judie. I will turn a manof busi
ness, keep his books by double entry, if he so
desires; I’ll buy a farm or gratify whichever
hobby he happens to be riding, if I may only
have my wife.”
“I think in that frame of mind you will get
her.”
“Miss Laura, you don't know how much good
you have done me.”
“Mr. Keith, you don’t know how much good
yon have done me.”
“How so ?”
“Well, I have had my own troubles because I
believed my friend Judie had a lover. But I
did not think of it being you.”
“Who, then, M»- ^aura?” ha said a little
fiercely.
“Only Mr. Cadogan.”
He smiled at that.
“And it troubled you to suspect that Bert
was fond of my wife?”
“Somewhat so.”
“I understand now why the poor fellow has
written such lugubrious letters for six months
past”
“Has he written to you during the six months
past?” 0 Mr Keith, let me see his letters?”
I had had enough of travel. I wanted to go
home.
When we sailed Mr. Keith accompanied us.
I think Mr. Cadogan must have had an’ ink
ling of affairs through his friend, for he met me
with that calm air of mastery and comprehen
sion which suited my mood.
“I shall not ask about your health,” he said.
“Isee that the time has expired when my
promise binds me not to speak as I would.”
“You have had patience, Bert”
“And long-suffering.”
“Part of that has been mine.”
“You made it for yourself.”
“Well, I don’t know. Mystery always annoys
me.”
“It was not my own secret, or I shouldn’t have
kept it from you.”
“Please don’t have any of your own, or other
people’s henceforth.”
“I should not, of course, when we two are one.”
Meanwhile Judie’s lover, her real lover, has
tened to plead his suit. Mr. Martindale was con
siderably shocked, and rather indignant at his
daughter’s duplicity, as he called it. He said
Mr. Keith did not suit him for a son-in-law; still,
had he known that Judie was so determined, he
would have preferred an avowal marriage to a
clandestine one.
They were married over again, and with consid
erable pomp. Mr. Keith has a consulship which
■till enables him to live abroad. Judie became so
used to her independence and admiration as a
married woman, that she has been unable to give
np her old habits, and shines as much as ever as a
belle.
For my own part, in my quiet home 1 have my
husband, health and happiness. And, whatever
troubles may come nigh me it is not in the form of
Judie’s lovers.
th* ekd.
TAKE CARE WHOM
YOU TRUST.
BY COMPTON READE.
CHAPTER XVII.
When two good men hate one another, they
meet with broad brow and square shoulder, as
in the old brave days of duel. When two men
of the baser sort hate, they face each other with
the ignoble weapons of scowl and aciimony.
But woman, the deepest hater of all, meets the
woman she would comfortably consign to per
ennial perdition, with—a kiss!
Let us watch two women embrace. Adine
Lovett and Louise Blackley. The one really
indifferent, the other spitefully malicious. You
would certainly suppose that they were the
warmest of friends. Voluble are their little ton
gues in enquiring after each other's olive-branch,
and how each likes being married, and all that
sort of thing.
This demonstrative sympathy would seem to
be appropriate, for it was their first meeting
since they respectively entered the holy estate.
Nevertheless, an acute observer might have dis
covered symptoms in Mrs. Blackley of a very
nnamiable character, in spite of all this impress
ment of manner; whilst Adine beiDg hostess,
had to affect a warmth she could not feel for the
wife of one whom she regarded as an incarnation
of evil.
Mr. and Mrs. Blackley had been driven over
by the rural dean in bis wagonette. The angnst
functionary proposed to induct the Reverend
Horace to Mudflat, for it at once transpired that
individual had cot let the grass grow under his
feet From Lingeville he had gone straight to
the Bishop for institution, and there remained
now only the ceremonies of induction and read
ing in.
Whilst the olergy were gone to the old churoh
to indulge in the vain ceremonies as by law
established, the two ladies were left to caress
or to quarrel as tempers might determine.
“ You’re coming to a wretched place, my dear,”
said Adine.
“Oh I its quite good enough for us, I assure
yoa, ” snorted Mrs. Blackley, gaxing, however,
uneasily at the dull walls.
“ I hope it may prove so. This is such a
dark room. ”
“Yes, it is dark note; but tee shall throw ont a
bow-window, and enlarge the garden; and then
you see, dear, it will be quite an altered place. ”
And Mrs. Blackley smiled sweetly.
“But at the best bow wretohed for yon, after
the luxury of Coldhole 1”
“No. On the contrary, we quite think it
will be a very pleasant summer residence. We
shall of course always winter abroad. ”
“But the bishop?” mildly suggested Adine.
Mrs. Blackley laughed a low laugh of satire.
“ My dear, ” she replied, “ bishops don’t inter
fere with people who enjoy an inoome over and
above their preferment. They are mueh too
polite to Mammon for that. ”
Adine shook her bead. Bhe believed in
bitbops, ^ ^
“Nonsense, ” was the somewhat curt response
this gesture. “Of course with Mr. Lovett
different He is dependent on the ohurek.
and so he must be good, and all that sort of
thing. But what does this or any other living
matter to Horace ? Why, we should be better
off without a living at all!”
Adine thought that Mndfiat would be much
bettor without Mrs. Black’ey, but she did not
say so. Her reflection was that the quondam
mild Louise Hart had developed into a some
what self-asserting member of society. The
consciousness of a full purse gives a strength
to meaner natures, which exhibits itself in tramp
ling on their less fortunate neighbors.
There was a pause, toe subject not admitting
of further disousBion.
“Do you think Horace altered?” enquired
Mrs. Blackley, abruptly.
“I—I—don’t know. I thought him—well,
rather more clerical looking. Is that due to
your influence, dear ? ” Adine somehow blush
ed a little—a faot which did not escape her in-
terrogatrix, who, quite prepared to accept of
fence, reared her head into an attitude of social
belligerence.
“ I'm sure Horaoe always looked a clergyman,
if he didn’t always act one, ” Bhe observed with
a sly laugh.
Adine blushed deeper and deeper still. So
this woman had wormed her secret out of her
husband. As tbis suspicion crossed her mind,
she battled with her blushes, and nerved even
oomplexion into coolness.
“I really never studied Mr. Blackley’s appear
ance my dear, ” she said, with an effort at in
difference.
“Indeed, dearest Adine! And yet you know
that he admired you very much. ”
“Indeed, dearest Louey, indeed I don’t knew
anything of the kind, ” retorted Adine.
These terms of excessive endearment, from
fair lips, prove that bitter animosity is latent-
near the surface.
“But he did, ” urged Mrs. Blackley. “The
Blocks were aware of it, and so was Mrs. Chow-
ner, and everybody.”
“ I really don’t understand why, ” rejoined
Adine.
“For the matter of that, I never could com
prehend how any man ever admired, still less
loved, a woman. Why, we’re nothing better
than a parcel of dressed-up dolls.” And she
gazed pensively on Borne very expensive red
lace, which, for the nonce, acted as her outer
integument.
“ Nor I either, ” replied Adine, not to be out
done. “Besides, Mr. Blackley is such a prac
tical, sensible man. ’
The words had scarcely escaped her lips when
Horace Blackley entered, smiling. Mr. Lovett
and the rural dean were settling some missiona
ry accounts in the vestry, so he had strolled to
his new home alone.
“Mrs. Lovett is landing your practical com
mon sense,” cried his wife.
“Very much flattered, I assure you,” he said,
with an air of surprise; “apropos of what?”
Adine was on her mettle, and resolved, if she
could, to discover, whether that man with his
ugly, secretive face, had, or had not, made a
confidant of bis wife. “Louise asserts that
years ago you cherished a secret admiration for
myself, and I say I don't believe it, because you
are much too sensible.” And she looked him
fnll in the face.
Perhaps it was an angry glance that he oast
MrB. Blackley, who, however, received it com-
plaisantly enough; he appreciated the situation
thoroughly, for the simple reason that the easi
est weapon fora domestic difference in his wife’s
grasp was the same accusation, which she had
learnt to snspect from dark hints dropped in
mischief by Miss Block. His words, however,
were smoother than oil, whatever may have
been the state of his heart.
“Mrs. Lovett will ev.er command admiration
from everyone,” he responded, with a rectangu
lar bow.
The entrance of Apollo in the shape of the
pompous little rural dean, followed by the ex
vicar, saved the trio from no small awkwardness,
whilst it left Adine no wiser than she was be
fore. Mr. Blackley promptly changed the con
versation.
“I shall read myself in an Sunday, Lovett,”
he remarked.
“I had arranged to preached my farewell
sermon,” replied Mr. Lovett, biting his lip at
this unveiled rudeness.
“Very sorry to put you out, but this affair of
mine is business, not pleasure. The plan will
be to have three services. I take the morning
and afternoon. You the evening. Send round
a notice to that effect.”
Mr. Lovett was powerless. He was now cu
rate in his own place. In vain did ho look across
appealingly to the rural dean, a buckram speci
men of clerical servility, who having heard
that Mr. Blackley was possessed of much money,
felt it alike a duty and a privilege to give him
every encouragement.
"A word with you in private before we go,’’
said Mr. Blackley, and accordingly Mr. Lovett
took him into his study, remarking by the way
that he was exceedingly anxious about tlis sale
of the Coldhole adowson.
“Bother that!” exclaimed the other. “Yon
had better advertise it, and so forth.”
“But,” said Mr. Lovett, “I imagined, as Cold
hole is your piroperty, you would do all that.”
“I don’t know why. You are more interested
in the sale than I am. Besides, remember I have
had already many expenses in connection with
this negotiation.”
“I do remember everything; but I must beg
you also to bear in mind that oar very substance
is staked on this wretched sale.’
“There, there. I hate fidgets, Lovett Take
care of yourself. That’s my motto. I didn’t
wan’t, however, to talk about this sale. What I
must ask is, what do you propose as regards
dilapidations ?”
“Dilapidations !”
“Yes, my good man, you owe me dilapida
tions, don’t you ?”
Mr. Lovett gasped for breath. He had for
gotten this item.
“Well,” continued Horaoe Blackley, “what do
you propose ? Shall, we fix it a certain sum—
say—two hundred pounds; or shall I send down
a valuer from town ?”
“But I can’t pay,” urged Mr. Lovett
“You will have to pay at least four hundred
pounds if the bouse and glebe are assessed by a
professional man. I’ve been over the place, and
I feel satisfied as to the amount I could claim.”
Mr. Lovett’s face turned ashy pale. “Black
ley,” he cried, “I am hopelessly in yonr power.
Your advowson will sell at most but for seven
thonsand pounds, ont of which 1 am already
pledged to assign yon five thousand eight hun
dred? This fresh claim—which, I own, I did
not anticipate—reduces my share to one thou
sand pounds; and as I have had to borrow a
hundred pounds, it will not even meet the claim
of the bank, let alone Mr. Bulp’s promissory
notes. Private debts ongbt not to come into this
negotiation. Surely you are rich enough to
give me a year or two to liquidate them.’,
“I have waited,” retorted Mr. Blackley, “and
long enough too. Ooe of the induoements of
Mndfiat was to reoover my oapital sank. That
I tell yon flatly.”
“Blackley, oried the poor man in a tone of
agony that would have melted a stone; “Black
ley, for heaven’s sake be merciful. Think of
my poor wife and ohild.*’
“As usual,” sneered Mr. Blaokley, “as usual.
Nothing bnt whining and whimpering. It’s
always the same with parsons. Gnbbins makes
• distinot offer of six thousand five hundred
pounds for my living. Evidently he likes the
place, and with judicious pressure will spring.
Th»t is,” he added with ernel sarcasm, “unless
Mr. Lovett elects to forego five hundred pounds,
and close with this offer at once.’
“Of course that is out of the question,” re
joined the other angrily; and so they joined the
ladies SDd their brother ecclesiastic, who had
been improving the shining quarter of an honr
by discoursing sweetly on the habits and in
stincts of the Fiji Islanders, as revealed to him
in confidence by an imaginative missionary.
CHAPTER XVIII.
Sunday morning dawned brightly, and as the
clock struck ten the ReV. Horace Blackley stood,
sermon-case in hand, on the door-step of the
rnri-decanal mansion, awaiting impatiently the
arrival of the carriage and bis wife.
Of course, the carriage, a clarence, came be
fore the lady, and equally of course the husband
was disposed to be irascible; although, in order
to be np to time, the poor woman had been sad
ly flustrated by convulsive struggles both with
her mind, and certain pins, which art had
planted at various depths in her own brown
flesh.
“I can’t think what the deuce made you want
to come,” growled Horace Blackley, as soon as
they were seated, and well along the road.
“You'll have to lunch with those cursed Lovetts,
and you know I hate accepting favors.”
“Considering you were their guest for days—”
began Mrs. Blackley.
“Exactly. We were on different terms then.
Now Lovett thinks himself injured, and is dis
posed to be awkward. Y'ou know that.”
“I know,” retorted his wife angrily, “that you
wanted to go alone, in order to get np a flirtation
with that yellow-haired creature. Pah! you j
can’t deceive me.”
“I hate the sight of both of them,” e ied he;
adding between his teeth, “especially of her
false face.”
“I don’t believe a syllable you say,” she re- i
plied.
Whereupon the new vicar indulged in an ex
pletive, which, as it had better not have been
spoken shall not be written; the immediate re
sult of which was drawing of woman's most le
thal weapon—tears.
“It’s a cruel shame for a man to speak such
words to his wife—on Sunday, too,” she whim
pered.
“Don’t make a fool of yourself, Looey,” feel- |
ingno small alarm lest the coachman should
guess what was occurring inside.
But this semblance of kindness only made her
worse, and the tears magnified into sobs, neces
sitating much marital affection ere ever she
could be lulled to rest.
“I wish you wouldn’t be so touchy,” remarked !
Mr. Blaokley, by way of vindicating himself.
“It’s all that b-beastly Adine,”ejaculated Mrs. j
Blackley, breaking out afresh, and in natural- |
esqne diction.
“There, there, I’ve told you once for all I hate
and detest her."
•’It’s only pique,” she replied; “you can’t de- j
ny its pique.” ;
“Never mind causes,” said he, “you shall
have effects before long to prove my words. But
stay; here is Mudflat. I told the man to drive
straight to the church. Just a quarter to eleven.
Good. The service is long, and I want to get it
over, so I’ll stop the bells and make a start at
once.”
Mrs. Blackley pulled down her veil, and the
pair entered Mudflat church in an extremely de
votional frame of mind.
The villagers, as is their wont had assembled j
in the churchyard. Gossip could not decide ]
whether the new “Passon was to read hisself in
or theold’un to give a farewell discoorse.” Hope
pointed to the latter alternative, which, however,
was dispelled by the arrival of the ruri-decanal
clarence, the charioteer of which vehicle, by his
canary-colored inexpressibles, caused a far .
greater sensation.than clergyman- __
Horace Blackley handed nis wife into the first-
open pew, which happened to be farmer Roper’s
and was dancing rapidly into the vestry, when
his eye lighted on a very bold-faced female ar- j
rayed in much cherry-colored ribbon, which j
contrasted startlingly with a green skitt and blue !
bonnet; whereupon, strange to say, a smile of !
recognition passed between the two.
Next to this person sat an old man of a villain- j
ous and jail-bird type, whose raiment seemed to
be composed mainly of skins. As the vicar
passed, she gave the old man a nudge, sufficient |
to bruise ordinary ribs, whispering at the same |
time hoarsely, “That’s’m.”
The old fellow winked knowingly; staring, |
however, all over the church, as if there were a i
great exhibition, or the Taj-Mahal.
“There used to be a gallery,” he muttered, j
“under that there arch some wheres. I axed j
your mother there, I did, in the middle o’ the
oid passon’s Rermon, and we was axed ourselves
by the old passon afterwards.”
But these delightful memories were interrupt
ed by divine service, which Mr. Blackley com
menced before the bell stopped, with a rapidity
which augured well for his lungs.
Somewhere about the Psalms the congregation
had contrived to be seated; and a little later,
with a blank face of surprise and vexation, Mr.
Lovett entered, lollowed by Adine, who, on pass
ing the cherry-colored woman, gave a curious
little start and turned pale.
Again the woman nudged her old man, whis
pering in his ear, “Thats ’er.”
• Ay, ay, I know,” he rejoined, so loud as to
attract attention.
The service, with the hideous addition of the
Thirty-nine Articles, was wearisome enough;
the sermon, however, had the merit of brevity.
Horace Blackley regarded the present as a fitting
opportunity for arriving at a plain understand
ing with bis people so he gave them in a
a few words, his programme, and the
gospel according to his ideas. The sermon was
on the subject of “self-help,” and it inculcated
a hard doctrine, to the effect that if people didn’t
look after their interests they deserved starva
tion. He informed his new parish, at starting,
that on principle he never put bis hand in his
pocket to relieve suffering. Men had no busi
ness to want. In faot. want was sin; and, as a
Christian minister, he begged to decline aiding
Bin.
“Us hopes his deeds haint as bad as his
words,” grunted a poor cripple to Mr. Lovett at
the church porch after service; and the outgoing
vicar had no reply to render to the lame man’s
logio.
“You will join us at luncheon ?” said Adine,
as she shook hands with Mrs. Blackley, who
preceded her spouse ont of ohurch.
-‘I shall be happy,” was the reply; “but as we
dine with the rural dean at five, I think my hus
band will decline luncheon. In fact, he wishes
a word with the farmer.
After the cavalier behavior Mr. Blackley had
adopted, neither Adine or her husband felt in
clined to press luncheon on him. Indeed, he
seemed deep in a disoussion with the clerk—a
local curiosity, who with every disposition to
act servile, oould not conceal ms bucolic detes
tation of a new faoe, and was about as stupid In
answering questions as if his brains were ad
dled.
Thus it came to pass that the Lovetts and Mrs.
Blaokley walked on to the vicarage, and the vicar
when onoe they were ont of sight marched off in
a different direction, with the notion of* quiet
cigar.
After inhaling a sufficient quantum of nioo-
tine, the good man bethought him that he
should like to have a peep at his glebe. Tramp
ing vigorously over field and farrow he was
diseoveied—as he indeed expected and desired
—by farmer Roper, who touched hia hat re
spectfully, hoping that he woald like Madflat.
Horaoe Blackley’s sols rejoinder to this oivil-
ity was to ask the worthy farmer what he valued
Roper turned pale; bat perceiving how the
land lay, avoided a direct reply, observing that
his family had held the glebe farm for a cen
tury, and that he himself was quite prepared to
pay a fair, or even a fancy rental.
Horace Blackley looked the farmer up and
down, coolly asserting that the land was not the
property of Mr. Roper, but of the vicar, and
that be, being vicar, intended to farm it him-
self.
The farmer scratched his head, trusting that
Mr. Blackley would reconsider his determina
tion. Mr. Blackley, however, notified sharply
that his mind was made up, but that he shouidn t
mind buying the stook, if he could get it at a
bargain.
“The stock, sir, I or any man can sell," cried
poor Roper. “But what compensation shall I
obtain for the moneys I've spent on the land ?
Mr. Blackley knocked about the earth with
his boot. “I don’t see any moneys !” he sneered.
“God knows,” exclaimed Roper, “that I
speaks the truth. I imagined that Master
Lovick was a-going to stop with ns, and I pntt
five ’undred pounds into these ’ere fields, only
last ’ear. Only last 'ear, sir.”
“That’s not business,” remarked the other
laconically.
“No. Nor profit neither. Moor like nnto
rewing,” groaned the ill-starred farmer.
“My man," said Mr. Blackley, “God helps
those who help themselves.”
“Sir,” rejoined Roper, “I wun’t believe as the
A’mighty blesses them as ’elps ’emselves to
hother’s rights.”
At which speech the vicar langhed consumed-
ly. The interference of a providence ip the
affairs of men to his mind appeared a ridicu
lous superstition. He did not, however, care
to risk an answer to the farmer’s rhetoric.
That would hardly have been politic. So he
contented himself with an enquiry as to his
immediate destination, suggesting blandly, for
the bells were chiming, church. And thus a
pair of knees were added to a very thin congre
gation, for it had got wind that Mr. Lovett was
to take the evening service, and the people pre
ferred to reserve themselves. The canary-clad
Jehu soon whisked the Blackleys away from
Mndfiat, after a very chilly farewell from their
predecessors; and poor farmer Roper, fairly
bowed down to earth by this sudden stroke of
evil fortune, ventured to call--although it was
Sunday—on his friend Mr. Lovett, to pray for
his interposition.
A very painful interview it was. In vain did
Mr. Lovett assure his old tenmt, in self-de
fence, that this action of his successor was an
abominable breach of faith, for that he had
made an express stipulation in writing that the
tenancy of the glebe was not to be changed.
Roper, overcome by the logic of fact, appeared
dull of comprehension. Nor was he reassured
by Mr. Lovett’s earnest assertion of his deter
mination to put the strongest moral pressure on
Mr. Blackley. Neither man could believe for a
second that any amount of moral pressure
would have weight with a man of Mr. Blackley’s
calibre. Mr. Lovett’s very voice betrayed his
hopelessness of moving so hard-hearted and un
scrupulous a specimen of selfishness.
"It tain't even business, sir,” almost shouted
indignant Roper, “least of all the gospil ?”
Alas ! alas! Mr. Lovett had to reflect not
merely that his own future in such treacherous
* ands was one of t< ible risk, but that by his
ill-advised act of l 'nation he bad in all like
lihood brought . _iu on his faithful tenant. It
was with such bitte- thoughts crossing his brain
that he entered SI 'flat church for the last
time, to wish the so - God-speed for whom till
then he had been rt , onsible. His people were
all there. Not till t ...it moment had l^e guessed
iris—popularity. It was indeed deep-seated.
The English like a plain straightforward gen
tleman, and this one had inherited the blood
and breeding of many centuries, which gave to
his manner the charm of a frankness very pleas
ing. As for Adi -e, the whole village loved her.
Her generosity equalled her beauty. Too much
a lady to interfere, she never neglected a sor
row, or forgot a need. In short the people were
genuinely grieved at losing two such good
friends; and Mr. Lovett read their feelings in
their faces ere ever he opened his lips to utter
halting words, which but ill expressed his emo
tions. The empty pew of farmer Roper was in
deed in itself a silent reproach, which marred
the hearty eloquence he could—but for that—
have spoken, for the good farmer, having, after
reflection, blundered on the ugly truth that Mr.
Lovett was blameworthy, could not bring him
self to attend this farewell service, whilst Mrs.
Roper burnt with anger which at least was
righteous. As for the people, they came sadly
and left dissatisfied. Never had they heard
their pastor to so great a disadvantage.
Husband and wife sat down on that Sunday
evening to their last repast in Mudflat vicar
age; they had to leave very early on the follov-
ing morning for Eingeville. The ornaments
were all packed, and nothing left but the bare
furniture, which, for the nonce, was to be stored
away at Blankton. Altogether the house looked
a picture of dreariness, and their hearts loDged
to break from this prison, and to live a glorious
new life. Yet somehow thought would linger
on the scene they were quitting, and conversa
tion involuntarily turned on Madflat people
and Mudflat ways. ♦
"For one reason, at all events," said Mr. Lov
ett, “I am sincerely glad to leave the parish.
Poacher Nevis has gotten out of jail, and they
tell me he is a power of evil with the people.
Blackley will find that man, no small thorn in
his side, if all stories are true.”
“Poacher Nevis?” enquired Adine. “Have
I ever seen the man ?”
“He was in church to-day, my dear.”
“What! Not the man with the curious clothes,
who would talk aloud to that—that bold-faced
creature, in all sorts of colors ?”
“Yes, dear pet, that was the man, and the
‘creature’ is his daughter, a very bad character,
whe has just come down from London, they
tell me.”
“And who is Poacher Nevis?”
‘ ‘A clever simpleton of the lowest class, capa
ble of any wickedness; whilst, as for his shame
less daughter—”
“I think I have seen someone like her some
where or other,” soliloquized Adine, a deep
flush rising to her cheek-
In this daughter of the poacher, she recogniz
ed the low creature who had tortured her at
“The Langham.” How thankful she felt, to be
leaving Madflat; with such a mischief-maker
about, it would have become intolerable.
“Strange,” remarked her husband; “I too,
seem to remember that face. After all, one is
very easily deceived about physiognomies.
Certain bad types keep on recurring, till at last
they beoome familiar. ”
“And then they haunt yon,” added she.
A bad night’s rest, a struggle with boxes, many
loving prayers and wishes, and so away from
poor despised Mudflat, with its malarious cli
mate, its kindly hearts, and a home, which,
with all its many draw-backs, possessed one
tranaendant merit—it waa a home.
(TO BB CONTOTOED.)
And when onr eyes are dim with unshed tears
and our hearts are aching in their loneliness,
when we yearn for the communion of a sympa
thizing spirit, we may reaoh ont onr weary hands
nnto One who “knoweth ns altogether,” may
rest on the-bosom of Him whose love and ten
derness is infinite, and find unutterable oom-
fort
IN FLORIDA.
Petals' Plucked 2rom a Sunny
Clime.
NO. 2.
Amelia Island—Femandino—Impressions
by Gen. Oglethorpe—Ogeechee Mounds
— Baronet McGregor — Commodore
Aury—Adventurers and Fillibusters—
Light House—Sea-Turtle.
Femandino is situated ou Amelia Island, which
is 18 ;miles in length and two in width. Vessels
can enter the harbor at any time without fear from
shoals, as the water on the her has an average
depth of 19 feet.
Its oldest settlers, as in many other places in
Florida, were Spaniards—a few of whom are re
maining.
During the movements of the embargo, together
with the privateers and slaves, three hundred
squnre rigged vessels have been seen in this har
bor at one time
Gen. Oglethorpe wrote thus romantically of
Amelia Island :
“The seashore is covered with myrtle and peach-
trees, orange trees, and vines in the wild woods,
where echoed the sound of melody from turtle
doves, nonpareils, red-birds, amt mocking-birds.”
Another settler mentions the mounds when the
country was first explored by the Spaniards.
These mounds were the burying places of the
Ogeechee Indians, who were overpowered and
killed by the Caribs.
Different nationalities looked upon Amelia Is
land with longing eyes for many years, coveting
it for their possession.
In 1817, Gregor McGregor, a Scottish Baronet,
an enthusiast on the subject of contest, came with
only fifty followers, making proclamations, and
issuing edicts of more magnitude than pla .s for
their execution, but soon afterwards retired to the
more quiet quarters of his Highland home.
Theu came Commodore Aury with 150 men on a
fillibustering expedition, and ousted the Spanish
troops.
At this time it would have been a difficult task
to find a more motley crowd of residents in any
country, than upon Amelia Island, composed of
English adventurers, Irish and French refugees,
Scots, Mexicans, Spaniards, Privateers, Natives
and Negroes.
Factions of such varied dispositions and incli
nations, were not conducive to harmony in a com
munity, consequently riots and disturbances were
of frequent occurrence.
Previous to this movement by Aury, negotia
tions had been pending between the United
States and the Spanish Government for Florida—
consequently President Monroe and his cabinet
looked upon the disputed property in a manner as
their own possessions.
The Spanish being unable to expel these priva
teering adventurers, President Monroe sent Uni
ted States troops which took possession of Fer-
nandino without resistance, in the name of the
Catholic Majesty of Spain.
On Amelia Island, is situated a light-house,
which shows a flash light 100 feet above the level
of the sea, visible sixteen miles. The tower is
built upon a promontory which overlooks the sur
rounding country and the Atlantic, far as the eye
can extend.
At this point, the Atlantic, Gulf and West India
Transit Company commences—where the gentle
manly officers connected with, and in charge of
the board, reside. The obliging superintendent is
always here in readiness to give information upon
the peculiar facilities, resulting from a residence
on this route, as a health location, besides being so
closely connected by steamship with all parts of
the world.
Femandino now contains a population of about
three thousand inhabitants, and on acceunt of
its healthfulness, is a resort during the summer
season, by persons from the interior of the State.
The misfortunes of our late war fell heavily on
Femandino—crippl.ng its energies and crushing
its present prospects for prosperity.
Much of the rea * 1 estate of its residents was
confiscated, and sold for taxes. Some of it has
been redeemed ; the remainder is passing through
a series of lengthy litigations, which, when set
tled, are designed to decide the validity of tax
sales generally throughout the entire State.
This disputed point places the inhabitants in
rather a Miciwber-like condition — waiting for
something ‘ to turn up.”
For a summer resort, away from the world of
care and business, th s place seems peculiarly
fitted. A delightful sea-breeze blows at all sea
sons, the scenery is quietly beautiful, the walks
and drives are fine. A shell road, two miles in
length, leads from the town to the beautiful
beach. This beach is the most attractive feature
of the island. It is 21 miles long, and at low
tide, over two hundred yards in width.
Good livery stables are kepi here, filled with fat,
fast horses, trained to trot or wade in the surf,
allowing visitors to admire the expanse of calm,
beautiful water, that washes the Atlantic shores.
At ebb tide, imagination can not conceive of a
finer drive—the beach being so firm that a pair
of horses and carriage scarcely make an indenta
tion on the surface, in passing over it.
The pavement is God’s own workmanship —
being composed of pure white sand, occasionally
interspersed with shells, many of them the tiniest
in existence. •
Here the happy sea-birds ride on the foam, or
flit across the breezy water; the sea-gulls and
pelicans luxuriate and flap their wings in peaceful
quietude, while the sand-crab takes his walks,
standing upright like a pigmy of the human spe
cies, presenting arms in a soldierly manner, and
never turning his back, however hotly he is pur»
sued. They are really very curious little crea
tures, reminding us of the Lilliputians in Gulli
ver’s travels.
Here the turtle comes to deposit her eggs be
yond high water mark, and when they are hatched
returns to escort a family of 150 babies, to her
home in the deep sea.
Here, the bright moonbeams dance upom the
surface of the water in silence and solitude, nntil
it resembles a silver sea. Many very pretty shells
are found on this beach, of various sizes and de
signs, with occasionally desirable cabinet speci
mens, that are thrown out when the waters are
much agitated.
This is the spot for the poet to weave his dreams,
the disappointed in love or ambition, to find solace
in nature’s oalm delight, the careworn business
man to forget bills and banks, and the blase beanty
to recruit the charms that too muoh flirting by
gaslight has faded. Silvia Svkshiub.
Henry M. Stanley, the Afrioan explorer,
arrived in Rome recently. The medal which had
been deoreed to him by the late king was pri
vately presented to him.
The advertisement of a Western stone-entter
reads: “Those who buy tombstones from ns
look with pride and satisfaction upon the graves
of their friends.”
“Wb have got to practioe the most rigid econ
omy at snch a time as this,” remarked a man
the other day to a crowd on the sidewalk. “I
have stopped all the papers for whioh I former
ly subscribed, and don’t bny candy, toyr
snob trumpery for the children—times are
Gome in, boys, and take a drink l’’—JBe.