ACORN LEAVES: A SERIES OF CAI^^ADIAN TALES BY NELL GW YNNE TORONTO: COPP, CLARK & CO., 47 FRONT STREET, 1873. 1 i:t / n T O EDWARD SHELDON WINANS, ESQ., IN MEMORY OF MANY KINDNESSES, THIS BOOK IS DEDICATED % BY THE AUTHORESS, INTRODUCTION. As these "leaves" have all, with the exception of "Hawk's Perch," already appeared before the public, there is no necessity of going through the ceremony of introducing them. " Tall oaks from little acorns grow." But allow me to remind the public that if the nightly dews and summer rains, and now and again a ray of sunlight, did not come to nourish and foster the "little acorns," the "tall oaks" would be few and far between. In consideration of which, it is to be hoped that "Acorn Leaves" will receive a due amount of encouragement from the Canadian public. NELL GWYNNE. Valley Farm, Cobourg, December, 1873. CONTENTS. PACK ScHOOLDAY Recollections '9 Hawk's Perch 53 Mind Pictures loi The Briers 108 The Box of Shells 123 On the Train, under the Star Spangled Banner . 137 Miss Vandyke .145 Betty's Last Theft . . . . . . .156 A Novel, by Poppy Bell 177 A Catch 201 ACORN LEAVES. SCHOOLDAY RECOLLECTIONS. How I came to bo in possession of the name of one of the " Merrie Monarch's " mistresses is more than I can tell. However, that is neither here nor there. I do not purpose writing a history of my life, and so need not commence telling how or where I got my name, or " I am born," like David Copperfield. Let it be sufficient to say that the scene of my " early recollections " lies in Canada West, near the banks of that vast body of water called Lake Ontario. My earliest recollections are of school, being sent there very young ; the very longest thing I can remember, being standing with my pinafore pinned to the knee of a kindly-faced old man, with an Irish accent, and feeling very much ashamed, which was, I ! appose, what impi'essed it on my memory. There were not many of us at this school, though the school house w^as very large, and we were all small ; but I think I must have been the least among the lot, for I remembet two girls quarrelling almost every day about ■whiph w^ld carry me home, which I had occasion to 2 10 ACORN LEAVES. dread, for they would drag me from each other, and sometimes, to decide the contest, throw me at each other. We used to makeO's and "top-turns," as we called them, on our slates, and I think we sometimes said our letters. I have said we were all small, but there was one excep- tion, — Matilda Mary Freer was a " big girl." I don't know how "big" or how old she might have been, I am sure^ but she has always dwelt in my memory as a very giantess. Being a highly imaginative young pereon, with a sense of the beautiful, an appreciation of the horrible and wonderful, and with the most supreme contempt for the truth at all times and on all occasions, she exercised a good deal of influence over our childish minds. Many and many were the tales she told us of her home, her friends, and her possessions — tales to which the adven- tures of Sinbad the Sailor or Jack the Giant Killer were as Gospel truths. She had, according to her own say, squaw-baskets full of the most beautiful scarlet, and gold, and blue, and amber beads ; dozens of wax-dolls with flaxen ringlets, and all dressed in ball-room costume ; no end of red silk dresses " trimmed with spangles," and I don't know what else of grandeur. Oh ! she was a wonderful pei'son, this same Matilda Mary Freer. She had excited my curiosity, by her flowery eloquence, to such a degree, that I determined to go home with her, and see some of the grand things she was always telling us about. She had just been giving a glowing desci-iption of a wax soldier two feet high, dressed in scarlet and gold, which her father had given her for a birth-day present, when I informed her that my mother had given me permission to go home with her that evening after school. Sh» SCHOOLDAY RECOLLECTIONS. H seemed sowewliat disconcerted by tliis piece of intelligence, and tried to dissuade me from my purpose, saying it was *' so far ; " but I had bad the scheme in my head for a long time, and was not to be put off. So when she started to go home I started off with her. She said she was very Uiiich afraid it would be dark before we got there, and she did not know how in the world I was going to get back home again ; though it struck me at the time that she did not appear to be particularly anxious about it, as she walked very slowl}^, I began to talk abou;*^ her soldier, and she said in an absent way, *' Oh, yes ! the one I gave away." " You gave it away," I said, a good deal surprised ; for I did not remember hearing her say anything about giving it away. " Why, yes," she said, " you surely must remember hearing me say I had given it away this morning." " Oh, well," I said, a little crestfallen, " I can see your beautiful beads and dolls, and your nice silk dresses." These she in- formed me were always kept locked up by her mother, who would not allow her to show them to any person, on any account. She evidently expected me to turn back after receiving this piece of information, but I kept walk- ing on. We had gone on in silence for some distance, when I was startled by Matilda Mary standing stock- still in the middle of the road, and exclaiming in a terri- fied voice, ''Good heavens! what is that?" Standing still, I became aware of a low, whining sound, and on looking about I perceived it to come from a shed on the side of the road, where there was a little black dog tied with a rope, and whining piteously. *' Oh, what shall we do ] " said Matilda Mary in terror ; *' look at its eyes! 1*2 ^ CORN LEA VES. It is mad ! It will teai' us lx>tli to pieces ! Go Iiomev Nelly I for lieaveii's sake, go home !" and, jumping over the fence, ^e ran down tliroug^i the fiekl witli a speed, that was only rivalled by vaj o^vn, as I turned homeward, Matilda Mary left school' not long after this, and gave ^s each a little calico printed nmt, cis^ a token of remem- brance. She had two teeth growing down over her eye te^th, like tusks, which she mformed us she was going to< have pulled, as her father had promised to give her a- handsome p>iece of jewelry as soon as he saw hei' without them ; and, sure enough, she came to scliool t\fO or three, days afterwards to say good-bye, minus her tusks, and with a pair of purple glass ear-drops, a couple of inches- long, dangling in her ears. School was broken up shortly afterwards, Mr. McCord (which I had forgotten to say was the schoolmaster's name) removing with his family to the States. He- parted with us xexj sadly. I thought^ then, it was because he was sorry for leaving us; but I have thought, since, he was sorry for losing his living, — ■■ poor, old man. He talked to its a great detd on the last day of school, — I don't remember what about, exactly ; but it was something about being, good cJiildren ; and after distributing a number of marbles among the little boys, he gave me a torn and elaborately illustrated copy of " Mother Goose's Melodies," wluch was a source of delight to m« for many years afterwards, though I don't remember his giving any of the other girls anytliing. I now determined to satisfy my long pent-up curiosity,. and pay Matilda Mary Freer a visit, and so set out the very next day after sciaool was broken up, accompanied by four or five of the school-girls, who were as curious as- SCHO OLD A Y RECOL LECTIONS. 1 3 myself. I dont know what kind of a place I expected to see, I am sure ; but I had a vague idea that the house was built of glass, and that there were orange-trees in the garden. The school-house was at the edge of the town, while Matilda Mary lived a couple of miles out of it ; so we had a long journey before us, but we trudged along right merrily, speculating on what Matilda Mary ^vould say when she saw us, till we came to the shed on the side of the road where the little black dog, that had l;een such a God-send to Matilda Mary the last time I came that way, had been tied ; but there was no dog there now, so we sat down on the side of the road to rest. We were to pats a row of poplars that were close at •liand before we came to our destiHation, which was all we "knew about it. Bat we passed the poplars and seemed 110 nearer ^an ever, the only house in view being a little ■brown weather-beaten one, with moss-grov/n shingles, bending over to one sidv with the weight -of years, with ti lilac tree in front, which was also bent with age or with •som(;thing ; and a larger one a little farther on, which -was likewise brown and weather-beaten, but which did not look so old nor nearly so picturesque as the first one, its only peculiarity being that it had two doors very close together in front, showing that it had been built for the ticcommodation of two families- Going into the first house, we inquired if Mr. Freer lived about there any- where, and were informed by a little rosy-faced womaa that Mr. Freer " 'ad a-lived a' the nigh-hand side o' the double 'eouse," hard by, but the family " 'ad ole goned away a wik agon." We looked at each other blankly, and fer the first time began to have our doubta of Mias 14 ACORN LEAVES. Matilda Freer. We went into the house, however, which had a clean, scoured look all over, and was papered with newspapers ; and we made tiie interesting discovery that the other end of the house was inliabited by a French potter, who seemed very glad to see us, and who made us S3 ore welcome than Matilda Mary would in all probability have done. He took his fiddle, which ho kept hanging to the wall in a gi-een brize bag, and played for us, wag- ging his head from side to side to keep time, and desiring us to dance, which I don't think any of us did, though we laughed and had a great deal of fun. He brought us out into the garden, or field, behind the house, and showed us his pottery, which was built of mud, and where there were a gi'eat many pots and pans of all descriptions, ready, he told us, to go through the enamel- ling process, though we thought them a great deal pret- tier as they were, tliey looked so fresh and clean. We were, of couree, highly delighted with all this, and parted excellent friends with the old potter, he promising to have some dishes made for us by the time we came again, which we did in about a week, bringing pennies with us to pay for our little dishes, which he would not take. W& amused oui*selves this day by making cups and saucers of the potter's clay, but they always came to pieces as soon as they were dry. Tlie old potter talked to us a great deal in broken English, bewailing the day he left old France, whei'e he said he had many a time a couple of hundred of his pots bought up by some rollicking young scape- grace of a nobleman, to be used as targets .^y himself and his no less rollicking companions. " All, ha ! that was the country to live in ; you might make pots in Canada for a SCHO OLD A Y RECOLLECTIONS. \ 5 long time before any one would buy them to shoot at," he would say, with a shake of his head. School had been re-opened in the meantime by a Mr. Lette, who carried it on in a far more magnificent scale than poor old Mr. McCord had ever done. The school- house was crowded to the uttermost cornei-, witlx all sorts, and sizes, and complexions ; and though all of old Mr. McCord's scholars went there as well as myself, I don't remember ever seeing any of them there. Mr. Lette was assisted by three or four of his own children, who were almost grown up, and by his wife, who came in every morning at ten o'clock, and stayed until twelve, during which time the girls worked at their knitting, or sewing, or embroidery, as the case might be ; but the predominant occupation appeared to be knitting dirty edging, which they carried about, rolled up into little balls. Together with this assistance, Mr. Lette made one half the school teach the other half, which kept up a constant scene of confusion, activity and excitement all day long. TJie first day I came to school, I was called up almost the moment I came in, to spell ofi" a card on the wall, with a crowd of other children, who all spoke together, and as loud as they could l)awl, spelling to a kind of tune, to which they kept time by swaying their bodies back and forwaixl. Wg had scarcely got til rough with this performance, when we were again called up to say tables off another card, which were like- wise roared out to a kind of sing-song tune, to which they kept time as before. We were again called up in about ten minutes to say the countries off a map of the world, which was done precisely the same as the spelling 16 ACORN LEAVES. and tables. I began to like the excitement, and wonder what we would do next, when Mrs. Lette made her appearance, which was a signal for all the girls to rush up to the desk to try who would get her Avork first. The girls were allowed to talk while they were at work; and such a Babel never was heard. Mr. Lette, who was a very large man, walked about continually, making a great flourishing with a formidable pair of tawse, but he never seemed to hurt any one with them. No person noticed me, or seemed to know I had never been there before. I had been sitting idly on the end of a bench for some time, amusing myself by watching what was going on about me, when a little girl in a pink pinafore came up to the end of the desk I was sitting at, where there were a number of little printed calico bags hanging, from among which she selected a pink one, like her pinafore, and proceeded to search its contents for something that turned out to be a knitting needle, which was carefully wrapped up in a piece of stiff brown paper- Looking at me coolly as she broke her needle in two, she said, " See, here ! You had better go and get your work, if you don't want to get the tawse." Replying confusedly to this friendly observation, that I had no work, she said, " Oh ! you are a new scholar," and, without waiting for a reply, went up and spoke to Mrs. Lette, who beckoned jne to her and reassured me by saying, kindly, " So you have no work, my dear. Well, we must try and find some for you, to-day ; but to-morrow you must bring )a needle and spool, and get some set up for yourself." SCnOOLDA Y RECOLLECTION^. \ 7 After poking about throrigli her desk, she took out a little white cotton sock, -vith the toe cut off, which she instructed me to rip, gi\'ing me a spool to wind the cotton on, and desiring me to sit down on the steps that led up to her desk, where thei'e ^v-ere a number of littie girls all working and chattering away for dear life, and who took my presence in their midst as the most natural thing in the world, A pretty, merry-looking little Irish girl, Avhom the others called "Johan," was telling a story; but a little girl in a braided apron \vith pockets in it, and her hair hanging down on her back in long bmids, having occasion to go up to Mrs. Lette, the story was suspended till she eame back. A little girl who sat beside me — giving me a nudge with her elbow — said, " Say, did you ever go to Wilson's T On my replying in the negative, she put her head down underneath her pinafore, and taking a bite out of a very green-looking green apple that she had in her pocket, passed it to the girl next to her^ who, after going through the same performance, passed it to Johan, who also took a " bite," and passed it to her next-door neigh- bour, when a small piece of the core was returned to the owner, which seemed to amuse Johan excessively, causing her to laugh in a sweet little merry way peculiarly her own, but on seeing that the owner of the apple did not appear to relisli the joke, she said, " Never mine, Jin, — Aggy McPherson is going to bring me a lot this afternoon for doing her sums for her, and I will give you some." The little girl with the braidel apron, and pockets, and long braids, having resumed her place, Johan went 18 ACORN LEAVES. on witli lier story, which was about a certain Mr. Fox, or Mr. King — I forget which, but think it was one of the two — who lived in a maguilicent mansion, surrounded by a high wall, into which no person was eve;- known to penetrate, having paid I is addresses to a certain beautiful young lady, who, favouring his suit, the day was fixed for their marriage, and everything was " in readiness. ' Unfortunately for himself, as will be seen, he promised to })ayher a visit on a certain day, in the meantime; and not being forthcoming at the appointed hour, she put on her bonnet and strolled out to meet him, going " along and along" till she came to his o\vn gate, which, to her astonishment, she found sliglitly ajar — such a thing never having been heard of in the memory of man. Presuming, no doubt, on her future proprietresship, she entered the gate, and found herself in the most beautiful garden that ever was seen, full of bii'ds and flowers and winding, shady walks, through which she wound in and out till she came to the hall-door, where she ascended a flight of marble steps as white as snow. The hall-door was also slightly open; entering, she found herself in a long hall, at the further end of which there was a door, and over this door was written, in large gold letters, the awful words, " Be Bould !" Taking the hint, she opened the door and found herself in a second hall, at the further end of which was a second door, and over it, written in the same gold letters, "Be Bould ! Be Bould!" Opening this door, she found herself in a third hall, at the further end of Mdiich was a third door, and over it written — always in the same gold letters, — "Be Bould! Be Bould! but not too Bould ! " Here, glancing out of a window, SailOOLDAY RECOLLECTIONS. 19 ■what was her horror to see her future husband dragging a beautiful lady along the garden-walk by the hair, and flourishing a glitteiing scimitar in the air. Evidently having hor own reasons for cominj; to the conclusion that she had been quite "bould" enough, she beat a pre- cipitate retreat ; and tellmg her story to her brothers when she got home, they immediately repaired to the magnificent mansion, accompanied by a band of soldiers with "big, long soords," who "coot" Mr. Fox, or Mr. King, or whatever his name was, all up to *' little bits" — releasing no end of beautiful young ladies whom he kept in captivity underneath his house ; and breaking into the "Be Bould! Be Bould! but not too Bould" door, they found it led into a closet full of blood, and bones, and skulls. I brought a knitting-needle and spool the next day, and Mrs. Lette — after breakiug the needle in two to make a pair of it — commenced some edging for me, which, I very soon learnt to knit. She, hov/ever, put me under the guardianship of the little girl in the pink pinafore, whose name wiis Susie Carter, lest I might go wrong ; but I soon became as great an adept at knitting dirty edging as any of the rest. Susie Carter and I became very great friends indeed. She was, or considered her- self to be, what was called "very pious," and was always telling stories about good, pious little boys and girls that alwa\s died and went to "'eaven," and turned out to be little " hangels." A tall Irish girl that sat opposite to us, who was very pretty, and whose name was Ellen, was an inde^itigable story-teller. She kept the attention of the whole desk chained, morning after morning, with 20 ACOnX LEAVES. the most wonderful tales of giants, and charms, and fables, and *' butee-ful prin-cesses," but as there were none of them "pious," Susie Carter did not pay any attention to her, and advised me not to either ; hut I did. Susie Carter had the oddest way of eating her " dinner," as we always called it here. She always car- ried it wrapped up in a little red handkerchief; this handkerchief she never opened, but holding it down b3side her — would put her fingers into a little hole, taking out whatever she had inside in little pieces, eacli one only large enough for a mouthfid — always keeping some distance away from the other girls, and moving off if any one came near her. I had watched these proceed- ings for some time witli a good deal of curiosity, and after making several unsuccessful attempts to see what she could be guarding so carefully I said to her one day, at noon, " Susie, what have you got in that little handkerchief ? I always think you eat your dinner so funny." Whereupon, after looking carefully about to see that no one else observed her, she unwi-apped the little hand- kerchief and produced what I took to be a little, fat- looking pie, or turn-over, but which, she informed me, was a " titty passy, mixed with hoongions," — meaning a potatoe pasty, mixed with onions ; and telling me confi- dently that the girls at "Wilson's" never called her anything but "Titty Passy," which explained her reason for wishing to keep her dinner such a profound seci-et. Henceforward, she ate her "titty passy, mixed with hoongions," unmolested by me ; and I don't think any of the other girls ever had any curiosity to know what she hacL SCHOOLDAY RECOLLEGTIOXS. 21 We had a half holiday one afternoon, for some reason — - T forget what — and Susie Carter took me home with her. She lived at the other end of the to^v^l, and I think we mnst have gone a back way, for I remember going across a great many commons. As we were going along, we came to a pile of rnbbish that had been thrown ont of some garden, in the midst of which there was a beautiful scarlet poppy vnih a white edge, in full bloom ; but which Susie Carter said it would be very wicked of cither of us to pick, as it had been planted there by the hand of God for some person that was too poor to keep a garden, and He intended it to be left there until such an individual should pass that way,— so we left it '* blooming alone," like the "last rose of summer." Before we had gone much further, we came to a bunch of thistles, where there were two little boys amusing themselves by catch- ing bees and sqiieezing them to death, Susie Carter stopped, and began to lecture them on their cruelty, asking them ** 'eow they would like it, if some big giants were to come and squeeze them to death, for fun T This view of the case seemed to amuse them prodigiously, for they laughed uproariously, and said they " would like it first-rate, if they went buzzin' round on thistles all the time;" whereupon, putting her hands on the shoulders of the smallest boy, she squeezed them together with all her might — he yelling as if he were being killed, but laughing louder than ever as soon as she let him go, the other boy laughing very much all the time. Finding them so incorrigible, we were forced to go on our way, leaving them to their interesting employment. I don't remember what Susie Carter's house was like, only that 3 22 ACORN' LEAVES. tKe door-steps were very clean, and that there was a well- kept but very little garden in fi'ont of it, where there were sunflowers and scarlet-runners growing ; but it struck me that her mother was a very funny-looking old woman — though I don't suppose she was so very old either. She wore her dress very short, showing a pair of blue stock- ings and stout leather shoes, and had a blue and white checked apron on ; a bright-coloured handkerchief about her shoulders, and a black silk bonnet on her head which she appeared to be in the habit of wearing all the time. She was very kind, however, and gave us some very nice bref.d and cream, and a bowl of milk apiece, which is all I remember about the visit. Aggy McPherson, whose name I had heard mentioned the first morning I came to school, was a fine, hand- some, well-grown girl, two or three years older than my- self, with a broad Scotch accent, — the only di-awback to her personal appearance being a slight cast in one of her eyes, that were otherwise particularly fine, which gave her, when she laughed or was amused, a very comical look. Her way home lay the same as mine, which was the cause of our becoming very great friends ; and she brought me home with her very often, which I enjoyed above all earthly things. The McPhersons, who lived about a mile from town, were Scotch farmers, and they lived in a style of munificence and dirt I had never seen equalled. They kept a great many cows, and were renowned for their bad butter, which no person that ever saw their milk-pans or cans — which I don't think they ever washed — would wonder at. But their kitchen floor was a sight to behold. I have heard people talk of writ] SCUOOLBAY RECOLLECTIONS. 23 ing their names in dust ; but, dear me, you could have carved your n?me with the poker on any jiart of the McPhersons* kitchen floor, wliich trifling circumstance, as may naturally be supposed, gave the house a particu- larly disagreeable smell, or a smell that I have heard called particularly disagreeable, but which to me, in those days, was more grateful than the most delicious perfume. They kept about a dozen men, and I don't know how many girls ; but I know one — whom they called " Mera (Jnn" — was in the habit of washing the potatoes for dinner with a broom. Mr. ]McPhei"son was a gi-eat, big, good-natured-looking man, with sandy whiskers ; and was, as were the whole family, kind and hospitable to the last degree. He always called me the " wee lassie," and would sometimes take me on his knee while he sang, " If a body meet a body, comin' through the rye." The mother was a little woman, and talked a great deal in a funny little gabbling way, but I never understood only two or three words she ever said, one of which was milk, which she called "mulk;" and another, skimmed milk, which she called " skump mulk ;" and another, cliickens, which she called " little beasties," about forty of which were generally going chirping abovit the kitchen, which was seldom inhabited by less than seven or eight dogs. The barn-yard swarmed with great, fat, lazy -looking fowls of all descriptions ; and in the granary were great bins of peas, oats and wheat, with which Aggy, or " Ogg " as she was called at home — and as I afterwards got into the habit of calling her — would "wile the weary hours away" by pitching me into them head-foremost, as if I were a kitten, and trying to cover me up. Ogg had a twin 24 V ACORN' LEAVES. brother, named Jock, who was not nearly so large as she was. Jock had been ill of a fever for some months, and having become convalescent, the doctor had ordered him to be taken out for an airing every day, and as we now had our summer holidays, Ogg and I took him out for a drive in the donkey-cart, every morning — he lying in the back on a feather-bed, underneath a blue cotton umbrella, while we sat in the front. I think Jock must have been a very sullen boy, for I don't remember ever heaiing him speak, though he might not have felt well enough, poor fellow; and indeed, his feelings were treated with precious little cere- mony by Ogg and me. Ogg would go into every orchard we came to — which were a good many — to steal apples, though they had them as plentifully at home as they had everything else. We never thought of such a thing as eating any of them, however, but would amuse ourselves by pelting them along the road. But Ogg's great delight was to get " hunted," as she called it, which I think I enjoyed quite as much as herself — her style of proceeding being to steal slyly into an orchard, and after she had helped herself to all the apples she wanted, commence to hoot and hallom,, until she succeeded in attracting some person's attention about tne place, who would of course give her chase, when she would fly for her life — some- times loosing her apples in her mad carreer; but she generally held on to them through thick and thin, till she got into the cart, when she would belabour the poor old donkey most unmercifully with a ponderous stick she kept for the purpose, and then look back with such a droll look in her funny eye, that it made me laugh very much ; but I took care not to let her know what I was laughing at. SCHOOLDA Y RECOLLECTIONS. 25 The school-house being near the lake, we played about a great deal among the ice-banks along the shore, which I wonder we were permitted to do, as it w.i3 very dan- gerous. We would try who dared to venture out the farthest, sometimes going out till we got sprinkled with the spray from the waves that dashed wildly up over the great ledges of ice that jutted out into the water. But this was not the most dangerous part. We frequently came to cracks,- — or chasms I suppose they might be called — iA the ice, into which if any of us had fallen — ■ and, indeed, it is a miracle that none of us ever did — ^we certainly nevei- would have got out again. I don't know how deep they might have been, but the dark, gurgling water, which we often stood and watched, looked to be very far down. The ice-banks took all manner of gro- tesque shapes ; some of them were shaped like vol- canoes, and were hollow. We would climb to the top of these and look down into them ; or if we found a place of ingress, as was often the case, we would go inside and run about, shouting to hear the echo. A great many were like caves, the mouths being closed up with rows of icicles that looked like prison-bars. The larger girls told us there were white bears in these, so we never ventured near them. Others were like mighty monsters; while there were some like piles of ruins. I don't remember anything about leaving school ; but I know I did leave, inasmuch as I found myself a " new scholar" at Mrs. Melverton's seminary for young ladies one fine morning. There was a good deal of diflerence between my first day here and my fii'st day at Mr. Lette's. We first read a chapter in the Bible, and then, 26 ACORN- LEAVES. it being Monday, recited a collect, which was done very indifferently indeed. Mrs. Melverton, who was a fiit, jolly-looking, middle-aged lady, in a widow's cap, sat conning a newspaper through an eye-glass till it was almost eleven o'clock, when she said, " Come, come, young ladies, this will never do." •But as no one paid any attention to her, she said more sternly, " ' Scholars' Companion,' young ladies." On which ten or a dozen girls, who had hitherto been dawdling about with spelling-books in their hands, went up and stood in a listless sort of way round the little desk at which she sat, stumbling most disgracefully, I thought, through a couple of dozen of hard words, at the termina- tion of which Mrs. Melverton seemed quite as much relieved as they were themselves. The girls then got their slates and began to wx'ite exercises, in the midst of which Mrs. Melverton, after consulting her watch, ai'ose, and saying, *' School is dismissed, young ladies," marched out of the room, a movement that did not appear in any wise to surprise any one but myself. It struck me at the time that it had been an idle, mis-spent morning ; but I was not long in making the important discovery that idleness and the most wanton squandering of time was the order of the day at this establishment. Mrs. Melverton had five gi'own children — two sons and three daughters. Miss Cla'a, or Miss Melverton, as she was generally called, who was the eldest sister, and took very much after her mamma, presided in the school- room in the afternoon. She sat at her embroidery, chat' SCnOOLDAY RECOLLECTIONS. 27 ting in an easy, good-natured way while we wrote our copies, and then heard us read, after which we worked or dawdled about as the fancy took us till it was time to go home. Miss Carrie, who was next to JMiss Clara, and who was handsome in a cold, statuesque style, had a class of small children at the other end of the I'oom, which she attended to altogether herself. It appeared to be con- sidered the proper thing by all the girls to hate Miss Carrie, though indeed she gave them as little cause to hate as she did to like her. And then thei-e was Miss Mattie, who had large black eyes and very white teeth and a muddy complexion, and who dressed oddly, always smelling very strongly of Jockey-club ; sometimes in the afternoon her proximity would almost take one's breath 0;Way. She looked older than Miss Melverton, though she was the youngest of the tlii-ee. The sons were George and Melverton Neal Melverton. George wj^s the eldest of the family; and Melverton Neal Melverton, whom his mamma always spoke of as "Mostaw Melvaw- ton," and whom the girls called "Mell," was the youngest, and a sadly idle fellow he was. Mrs. Melverton was so much engaged with her news" paper the first morning I came to school that she did not take any notice of me at all ; but on the morning of tho second day, after closing the Bible, she turned to me and said, " Well, little Miss Hop-o'-my-thumb, what have you got to say for yourself ?" Not knowing what to reply to this rather vague in- quiry, I turned very red in the face and hung down my head, feeling very awkward and silly. Seeing, I sup* 28 ACORN LEAVES. pose, that I had nothing whatever to say for myself, she desired to see my books, which she turned very carelessly over, asking me simj)le little questions here and there which I was afraid or ashamed to answer; for though I did not dare to look up, I had an awkward consciousness of being stared at by the whole school. She seemed very well satisfied, however, and said pleasantly, " I think you had better take up your lessons with Miss Teasdle." Turning to a mild, lady-like little girl that stood beside her, she said, " I think you had better take up your lessons with Miss Gwynne, Miss Flora." " Yeth, Mitheth Melverton," said Mis^ Flora, who had a bad lisp, looking at me very hard, a compliment which I returned with interest ; for be it said, there was some- thing in the cool, insolent stare of Miss Flora's blue eyen that made me feel as if I would like to pull her back-hair down if it had been up, which it was not. Notwithstanding this ill-omened introduction, we be- came inseparable friends from that time forward. She told me afterwards that she took me for a *' railroader" until she heai'd me speak, because I had a silk dress on — " railroaders" being people connected with the railway, in Miss Flora's vocabulary — a class of people that she looked down upon as being exceedingly vulgar, and who, she said, spoke like "nutmeg graters," though her know, ledge of them appeare ' to be limited to the acquaintance of four sisters that came to school, named respectively, Maria, Mary Anne, Kate and Eliza Jane Bunn, which they pronounced " Boon." The Bunn girls, who never SCHOOLDAY RECOLLECTIONS. 29 made any pretension of saying lessons at all, always drove to school in a carriage, and scarcely ever got there before eleven o'clock, and sometimes not till twelve. They were all remarkably plain-looking girls, with large moutlis and turned-up noses, and little, squinty blue eyes, and any quantity of light, towy-looking hair that was always at sixes and sevens, and every way but the right way. They would bring gi'cat baskets of lunch, and were never without strawberries, or melons, or cherries, or plums, or apples, in their season, which they distributed right and left with the most prodigal liberality. They were in the habit of trading their lunch all about school, a habit the girls were not slow to avail themselves of, as they always gave a great deal more than they got. One day, just after school was dismissed at noon. Miss Carrie only Imgering to look over some slates, Nellie Bayley, who was one of the little girls, held out a paper of lunch, calling out to Mary Anne Bumi, " How will you trade ]" " What have you got f said Mary Anne Buiin. " Sandwiches." " What kind of sandwiclies ?" ** Why, the sandwich kind, av cooi-se ; what kmd would they be T said Nellie Bayley, who was the greatest little mischief in school, and who had a glib, Irish way of talking that both Mrs. Melverton and Miss Carrie were always trying to correct, but to very little purpose. *' But I mean, what kind of meat ]" said Mary Anne Bunn. After looking at them doubtfully, Nellie Bayley said, " Oh, I know what kind of meat it is now. It is pig's meat !" 30 ACORN LEAVES. " Miss Nellie," said Miss Carrie, in a horrified voice, " let me never hear you make use of such an expression again ; I am astonished at yoii." " Well, what ought I to say, Miss Carrie?" said Nellie, innocently, though everybody knew that she understood perfectly well what to have said. " Why, pawk, of cawse," said Miss Carrie, severely, as she walked out of the room. Now let it be understood that tniant pigs were some- times in the habit of breaking into the lawn in front of the huuse, which polite intrusion Melverton would resent by loading his gun with salt, and shooting at them. We were sitting quietly writing our copies one afternoon, two or three weeks after Nellie Bayley had received the reprimand from Miss Canie about the "pig's meat,'' when we were startled to hear a gun go off close to the hall-door, which was open, *' Dear me !" said Miss Carrie, starting violently ; "what's that r *' It is Melverton, Miss Carrie," said Nellie Bayley, quietly. " Melverton ! Why, what is he doing out there X* " Shooting, Miss Canie," " Shooting ! Shooting what ]" " Shooting the ' pawk' out on the lawn. Miss Carrie." A dead siiencs followed this little dialogue, and Miss Nellie Bayley was ordered to stand in the middle of the room until she received permission to sit down, which she did with an air of injured innocence that was won- derful to behold. There were about thirty of us at Mrs. Melverton's altogether ; and as we were allowed to do pretty much as 8CH0 OLD AY RE COL LECTIOyS. 31 we pleased, we had a jolly time generally. If we learned our lessons, well and good ; and if we did not learn tliem, why, that was well and good too, for Mrs. Melverton did not have the trouble of hearins: them, though she would sometimes declare that this state of things had gone on quite long enough, and she was determined we should commence on the very next Monday and turn over a new leaf. But by the time next Monday came she would have forgotten all about her good resolutions ; and so the new leaf never got turned. There was a great deal of silly talk among the larger girls about beaux and getting married, in which Miss Imogene Cambrige, a young lady gifted with any amount of romance and silliness, was the ringleader. Miss Cam- brige, who had long black ringlets, and who was always going about with the hooks and eyes bursting out of her dress, and her boots, which always appeared to be too small for her, bursting out at the heels, was always pro- testing tliat if she did not get married when she was seventeen, she would stay single all the days of her life. She appeared to be in possession of any number of dirty, dilapidated, suspicious-looking novels, which she would read to us at noon or any other time that she got the chance. One of these, I remember, had a great deal in it about the Spanish Inquisition, the horrors of which were enough to freeze one's blood ; but the generality were full of love, and murder, and madness, and were anything but calculated to improve our youthful minds. Miss Cambrige had two sisters, Emma and Caroline, whom she called "our young ones," though they were only a few years younger than herself. '* Our young 32 ACOR^'■ LEAVES. ones" were quite as silly as herself. They would fasten bunches of asparagus in their hats, and affect to be riding on horseback, one sitting on each end of the saw-horse. Next to the Misses Bunn, Flora Teasdle looked down upon the Cambriges, whose father, she said, had been a shoemaker onco in his life, though Imogene Cambrige was always bragging about having titled relations in England, where she said her father had been most shame- fully cheated out of his rights, and made to flee, the country through the treachery of somebody, I forget who, and where the family mansion — Cambrige Manor — was now falling to decay, and haunted by I don't know how many gliosts, wrapped in winding-sheets, who held nightly vigils in its deserted halls and corridors. " Mostaw Melvawton," who bore a striking resem- blance to Miss Carrie, who was said to be passionately attached to him, would go strolling about from week's end to week's end, in a sky-blue smoking cap, embroidered in gold colour, with slippers to match, a cigar in his mouth, and a fresh-looking novel or magazine in his hand. It was whispered about among the girls . that George and Melverton frequently had bitter quarrels about Melverton's good-for-nothing ways. George, who appeared to have all the energy in the family, was a law- yer, and had an office down town j he always walked very fast, and appeared to have a great deal to do. Melvertoii had a chum named Harry Mountjoy, a young medical student, who had the reputation of being clever, and who was as handsome and apparently quite as idle as himself. These two frequently went fishing, shooting and cricketing together, and we often encoun- SCIIOOLDAY RECOLLECTIOXS. 33 tered them on these expeditions, with their fishing-rods, or gnns, or in pink shirts and blue caps, and carrying their cricket-bats, as the case might be. They would sometimes chat and laugh merrily enough with the girls, but avoided them as a genei-al thing, which, I am sorry to say, they sometimes found no easy matter, one-half the girls in school being, or fancying themselves to be, in love with either one or the other of them ; and such popping around comers, and peeping through the cracks in the fence, and dodging and manoeuvring as there was going on when they were about, to attract their attention, never was seen. We were sitting as usual one day, at lunch time, under the trees in the play-ground, listening to Imogene Cam- brige holding forth from one of her dirty novels — skip- ping the long words and miscalling the short ones — when Harry Mountjoy and Melverton climbed over the lawn-fence, and came across the play-ground towards us, trailing their guns after them ; stopping when they came up to us to light their cigars, which Harry Mountjoy did over the muzzle of his gun, which he held directly on a line with his chin. " Oh, Harry," said Flora Teasdle, with a shudder, " it frightens me to see you do that. You will surely shoot yourself sometime." On which Melverton, turning quickly about, said, " See here, Mountjoy, let the young people mind what the old people say, and so forth. If you are going to shoot yourself, choose another occasion ; for I am blest if I am going to carry you home this hot day." This sally raised a laugh, in which they both joined. 4 34 AC0Ii2i LEAVES. " AVho will dig, the grave ?" sang out Melverton, as they Avere moving off. ^' I the'd Mith Tt^-thdle With my crotliay needle, I'll dij,' the grave," ■Bang Harry Mouutjoy back again, and the two went off laughing and puffing their cigars. But we never saw poor Harry Mountjoy again, but went the very next week to the churchyard to see his grave, which was not like any other grave I had ever seen, but was flat, and had apparently been filled in with gravel, and had a beautiful white marble cross over it — ■ he having been shot dead a few hours after they left us, in the very way Flora Teasdle had predicted, while light- ing his cigar over the muzzle of his gun ! Melverton came home like one distracted, and threw himself on his face on the hall-floor, exclaiming, " Oh, Mountjoy, Mountjoy ! poor Mountjoy !" over and over again. Mrs. Melverton and Miss Carrie tried to get him to tell what had happened, but he did not seem to know what was said to him, and kept on repeating, " Oh, Mountjoy ! poor Mountjoy !" But they were not long in finding it out, for by this time the whole town rang with it ; poor Harry Mountjoy having been carried home in a farmer's cart. We did not see Melverton again until the morning of Harry Mountjoy 's funeral, when we met him walking through the street, leaning on his brother George's arm, Avhich was the first time I had ever seen them together ; but they were often, indeed almost always, together after this, SCHOOL!) A r RECOLLECTIONS. 35 at least for a co\xple of months — Melverton going flaily to his brother's office, where, I believe, he did writing. Flora Teasdle, though rather contracted in hor views ©f life, was at least a well-meaning little girl, and being very much impressed by Hany Mountjoy's de;ith, began to talk seriously of the way we were all going on ; saying: it was a great sin to throw away time as we were doing, and proposing that she and I should cut Imogene Cam- brige and her clique, and commence to- study our lessonsy which we had hitherto been sliirking pretty mucli as the rest did. We accordingly began in good earnest, com- mitting pages and pages of Mangnell's Questions, Watt's Scripture History, and Sniith's Astronomy to memoiy. We had been going on this way for about a month, when it occurred to me that, to perfect our education, w& ought to know something of grammar, geography and arithmetic, an idea that Fioi-a Teasdle at once concurred with ; and without more ado we cut the Scripture history and astronomy for an old leather-covered Mun-ay's Gram- mar, that had belonged to one of Flora Teasdle's brothers, and Stuart's Geography, which, if I remember rightly, was a pretty dry book. Morse's was the one used in school, when there was a geography used at all, which was very seldom ; but Flora said it was used in th& common schools, and it would never do for us to be seen, carrying Morse's Geography through the street ; people might ttike us for common school children. We did two sums religiously every morning, which afforded us great satisfaction, though we copied them both out of a "key'* that was lying about the school-room. We might have tired of this after a while, but Mj^. Melverton began to 36 ACORN LEAVES. hold us up as an exami)le for the rest of the school, which pleased our vanity ; and as we Ijegau to under- stand our lessons, we studied them for their own sake, and with a little guidance and assistance, neither of which we ever got, might have made some progress. Maple Grove, which was the name of Mrs. Melverton's premises, was situated at the back of the town ; as it had originally been intended for a first-class establishment, it had been built on an extensiye scale. There were two large wings at the back of the house totally unoccupied, with great cellars underneath, where there were cisterns full of water. "We received ordei-s not to go near these cisterns, though we often did. At the front of the house was the lawn, where there were a great many maples growing, from which, in all probability, the place took its name, and which was surrounded by a high close fence. The lawn was forbidden ground to us, though we sometimes took the liberty of peeping through the cracks in the fence. In the yard were stables and sundry offices, all presenting a sad appearance of dilapi- dation, which was, however, only in keeping with every- thing else about Maple Grove, the whole place having an air of neglect and desertion about it. The back of the establishment was what had once been a kitchen garden; but the balmy days of early peas and choice cauliflowers were evidently among the things that were, it being now wholly covered with long, coarse, wiry gi'ass. In this garden Flora and I, in our zealous fit of industry, took up our quarters at noon, unknown to the other girls. Watching our opportunity, we would pop through a crazy little wicket that led into the yard, and SCnO OLD A Y RECOLLECTIONS. 37 running down over the long gi-ass, ensconce ourselves comfortably underneath an old apple tree at the foot of the garden. Here we studied to our hearts' content, and did our embroidery and read various little story books that liad been given to Flora by a maiden aunt. I do not rcmembler what these were about, or even the names of them ; but there were a great many pretty little pictures in them of little girls in picturesque gipsy bon- nets, walking in bowery lanes with baskets of flowers on their arms, or climbing over old, mossy stiles, with leafy branches hanging overhead, and vines and flowers growing all about, such as Flora said her mamma had often seen in England, or, again, crossing little brooks on stepping- stones, with water-lilies floating about their feet. It was in this sequestered spot I got the greatest fright it has ever been my lot to experience in the course of my existence. We were sitting reading ofi" the same page one very warm day, when, growing weary, I let go my side of the book, and drawing a long breath, leaned my head back against the fence. "Dear me," I said dreamily, as 'my eyes wandered from the blue sky above, flecked here and there with white, fleecy clouds, over the rows of bare-looking windows at the back of the house, and then over the deserted-looking pile in the yard about which there was not a sign of life — "Dear me, what a great solitary- looking place this is ! One would think there was not a person in the world but us two souls." Even as I spolfe, the stable door shook slightly, and straightway from it emerged an old man, with a flowing white beard, and very much stooped with age, who walked quickly straight towards us. 38 ACORN LEAVES. " Gracious me, Flora," I said, " look at this dreadful- looking old man." And, horrible to tell, scarcely were the words out of my mouth, when I perceived that he carried in one hand a human head, with blood-shot, glaring eyes, and drip- ping with gore ; and in the other an axe besmeared with blood. Speechless and transfixed with horror, we clutched hold of each other convulsively. He was coming nearer and nearer. We could hear his short, quick breathing, I felt as cold as ice, with a creeping sensation all over my head, as if my hair was rising up. He was almost beside us, and I relaxed my hold on Flora, and felt her fingers loosening from about my arm. It was a sheep's head, and the old man was an Irishman named Murphy, that we sometimes saw sawing wood in the yard. He did not look up until he got quite close to us, and started on coming on us so unexpectedly. ^' Good marnin, ladies ; good marnin," said he, with, a grin. He looked hideous enough, supposing it was a sheep's head, and we did know who he was. "Why, Murphy," I said, "you frightened us almost to death." " Ouw yiz, Miss ; ouw viz," said Murphy, who was an exceedingly st..pid old man, and always answered anything he did not clearly understand by saying " Ouw yiz." " I was sawin' a Lit o' wood for Mr. Bunks beyant ; he kilt a sheep this marnin' and gev me the head to bring home to the ould 'oman, an' I kim across the lields to get an axe out of the miiiBUs' stable," said Muri)hj, ia an explanatoiy waj. SUUO OLD A Y RECOLLECTIONS. 39 " Good marnin, ladies ; good marnin," said he again, as he disappeared through a hole in the fence that he had probably made for his own accommodation, as it brought him a short cut home. We did not get over our fright for the rest of the day, and henceforward gave up our lonely haunt in the back garden. In the meantime, Melverton had got back to his smoking cap and slippers, and his novel and cigar, and might be seen lounging idly about at almost any time. He appeared to be in disgrace with every one in the house but Miss Carrie, who sometimes strolled about under the trees on the lawn with him, leaning on his arm. They would have their little miffs, too, sometimes, about Melverton's smoking, which made Miss Carrie sick ; and which he did continually, and he would some- times, like a misclnevous fellow, hold her in his arms, .and puff smoke from his cigar in her face, until he made her so ill that he would have to carry her into the house, which he appeared to think great fun. Flora and I were reading a book, which for some reason we were anxious to get through, and came to school very early one morning, so that we would have a long time to read before school was called. Walking leisurely along by the lawn fence, our attention was attracted by hearing voices inside, as if two or three persons were quarrelling, and on coming to an aj^erture in the fence made by a board being broken off, what was our aetoni^hment and dismay to see Geoi-ge and Melverton struggling lierc**lj together. Melverton liad hm gun iu h\» Laud, which his brother was trying tu wretit from luui, but did xu^ 40 ACOR}^ k'SAVES. succeed in doing. MeiVerton jerked it out of bis grasp with such vioierice that he almost fell backwairds, and' turning itt a paroxysm of rage, recklessly dJaslied it at kim, it striking him on the shoulder, and going off with a loud report, which seemed to sober them both for the moment. We then saw Miss Ciarrie coming down the door steps in a white wrapper, and looking very much distressed. We could not hear what she said, but she was talking earnestly at she approached them, and taking Melverton's hand, placed it in his brothei"'s, and forced them to shake hands, which they did with a very bad grace. Afraid of being caught witnessing such a scene, we took ourselves off as quickly as possible, and resolved not to say anything about it. But it got out neverthe- less, and we heard it several times during the day with many variations — one of which was that Melverton had attempted to shoot George, an(' v^as oiil} prevented from doing so by Miss Can-ie going between them — but we kept our own counsel, and when we heanl that day that Melverton had gone out to the lakes with a camp- ing party, we put that and that together to our own satisfaction. It was again bruited about in about a week that Mel- verton was at home and ill of a fever, a fact that only became too ajiparent in a cou])le of days, for his loud ravings might be distinctly heard in the school-room, and ft dreary thing it was to list*m to all diij long, talking wildly and incoherently in a Strang, L arse voice, not at all hL own. I think this lasted for four or five day», when Mlbs Faucette — who w«« one of the boutlers, of vlioin then wen atmnl, and wbo iuwl taken dwrfe of SCHO OLD A Y RECOLLECTIONS. 41 tie scliool for the last few days — eame in just after scliool liad been called for the afternoon, and desired us to go home. She said, " I do not thiiik he <;an last much longer, poor fellow, and it is best for you to go at once." Awe-stricken, we crept out on tip toe, talking in whis- pers as we took our hats and satchels from their respective pegs in the porch ; but the whispered echoes of our departing footsteps had not died away when the dread messenger appeai-ed, silencing poor Melverton's voice for ever. We had two weeks' holiday, and when we came back again there were saucers of quicklime about on the desks and on the shelves where we left our books. Poor Miss Carrie, who was the first one we saw in the school-room, looked colder and paler, and more beautiful than ever in her trailing black dress, with crape trimmings and jet ornaments. I had known Flora Teasdle for some time before I knew where she lived, although I had often asked her ; but as we became more intimate, she took me to her hoi^ie, and I became cognizant of the fact that her dwell- ing-place was on a back street, and was a small white frame-house, with green shutters, and a green door ; all of which I subsequently became aware she was very much ashamed of, which was the reason for keeping me ao long in i^orboue of it. She told me of other days not long ago, when the}- lived in a beautiful bouse, aikd kad a garden and tui earance. She was a ■weet, kind lady, and must have been a model housewife, for their house was a temple of spotless purity and order. There were a great many books and pictures and curiosi- ties in the parlour, though it was so small that it seemed almost filled with Flora's jMano that stoo ugu ia Ifjm. lidwstOB** fM^Iki TKvm fidlliiig off v&di tibs &»««tis, vludb, iiitiiiipi to Mj, mmamA to ii, mmmftA iwr. A rwai aelHel ImI '< U ACORN LEAVES. being an excellent scliool — a sort of institution that was sadly needed in the to"\vn. Among the boarders at Mrs. Melverton's was Miss Maria Antoinette St. John, who, for some reason that I never learnt, always went by the name of John Anderson. John Anderson had a greenish-yellow complexion, large black eyes, and lanky black hair that was always coming^ down and hanging about her neck in little snaky twists^ which attributes — not taking a wide mouth, high cheek- bones, and a hooked nose into consideration — were living proofs that her ancestors, at least on one side of the house or the wigwam, had wielded the tomahawk and the scalps ing-knife, and " paddled their own canoe,** or canoes, see- ing they very likely had one apiece. Mlss St. John had been four years at Mrs. Melverton's, and was now talking of going home. Her friends very naturally thought it time her education was finished. Mrs. Melverton had been so cross of late on account of losing so many of her pupils, that poor John Anderson dreaded to let her know she was going to leave, and only told it to OS as a great secret. It really was astonishing that anv one endowed with ret'soninij faculties could spend four years even *t such a actiool as Mrs. Melver- ton's, 9JiA SfOqaire to Ttrj little as Ifias Maria Antoii^ct4> St. Jckax had aMnged to do. Tnw. d^ phtyed the pLuio, ft MM OB it. and dancpd n—JiiHi '. aad 1m4 a d ia wu M fhoafc witk flfttos. «il ie ft ■»» crinft SGHO OLD A Y RECOLLECTIONS. 45 slie did not know a verb from a noun, and though she wrote a lady-like hand, could not spell a word of two syllables, and I do not think she knew whether she lived on a continent or on an island. The day for Miss St. John's departure had arrived, and we were all prepared for a grand denouement, for we knew that Mrs. Melverton would be doubly angry for not being apprised of it before. There were not more than a dozen of us in the school-room, it being a very wet morning. I was sitting with my spelling-book in my hand, looking out of the window at some clothes that were flapping disconsolately back and forth on the lines in the clothes-yard, when Miss Melverton opened the door, and said, " Mamma, dear, the omnibus is — — " The concluding part of Miss Melverton's remark is for- ever lost to the world, for as she spoke a horn " Did sing both loud and clear." like the brajring a.ss in " John Gilpiu ;" and even at the same instant, MLss St. John ruahed wildly past her, dressed in her bonnet and duster, both of which were soaking wet, as well as everything else she bad ou ; and ran thrcni^ the scfaool-roorn, and out into the clothea- jani, amd gnu^ng frantically aX the aforataid ciotikes on the littes, she tore thtem off and roUad tJMBa into a laap, thruGgii tbe aebool-roGm, haek iaio Here like was rntat hf a MHi m a. to vjnB At aakL 46 ACORN LEAVES. room, shutting the door very gently after her, which "We considered a bad omen, and which did not hinder us from hearing Miss St. John's voice calling to the man to wait " one moment — only one moment." Her voice, though particularly soft when she spoke in a natural tone, always put me in mind of the screeching of some kind of wild bird when she raised it. There was a great deal of run- ning up and down stairs, and banging of doors, and loud chattering in treble voices now going on ; and in the midst of it all another lusty blast from the horn floated on the breeze — or it would have, if there had been any breeze for it to float on. The next moment we heard the man tramping do^vn stairs and out of the front door; and as Miss Melverton afterwards told us, followed by Miss St. John, screeching and gesticulating like a wild thing, with her bonnet hanging down between her shoulders, and her dress flapping about her feet. All this liapj>ened so suddenly, and in such an incredibly short space of time, that we ha^l not had time to give way to any feeling but astonishment ; but when we found that Miss St. John hae hiui stolen hena that had y^ to Ijc ex|>laijtt^ however. We w^re eritiailijr dimwii^ near to iht a&HCMcd hdUov to be a |Braiit4eiil€f SCHOOLBAY RECOLLECTIONS. 51 Neither Flora nor I were in a particularly amiable mood at being forced out, we knew not whither, in this unmannerly style, but we soon got into the spirit of what was going on, and went down hill with any one who would take us, and helped to draw up the sleighs, and shouted and laughed, and had glorious fun. I do not know how long we might have kei)t this up, if it had not commenced to snow heavily, the air haviixg moderated considerably since we came out. As it was, we did not start for the house until we were all white with snow. Nellie Bayley and I were di-awn Iwick to the hou.se by no less a j>erson than Mr. Jerry Bunn himself, and as I did not want to go without Flora, though the snow was falling so thickly tlmt we could scarcely see each other, he went and saw her taken care of on another sleigh to satisfy me, like a good-natured felk>w as he was. NelUe Bayley [jointed him out to me afterwards when we were all in the |«irlour, and I was sur)«rised to see that he was tke very handsomest boy I had ever seen in my life. He had a nek. tawny c^MopiexitMi, and hair and ^es of a •ofiu Ukeilow browB, tkat ftot mtt in imM^ of rifie avta hruwn. >,vm * ' ^m *mmiim-'i*m m umm*im»i m ' mo m ^i*m- »m- ^■Xk,j>iis& ^^ ^m-n •tfc. -« #- .4^£; ii.» mmm .^. A^ii-aimimniKg ■i» mmmm. imfi*4 m^A liMl*itM **rt ■ »«*i. *». »f«f*;».:*f: ^_ ^»-T.». -^1« -*• «r It, ..,^, t.L ^ rsm-V*"' . «te^ ^"w'^'*''*"^ •-pi^^ »- i«p< *T^wN MHMHilNP^ ,:»i. ^f'f •iai»^jf:«..^ tj* Miiijtiiiiiiiiiiij.iii l liMii 0»»x-i' t*.-..,,,^,,;,,,.^,- fmmmwm mimmmmtmmK^fitttm m m. i imm \ mmmmmi m ^mi '##«, #<►- * «..«-^f. ^flja» ji-.; ■» J «.,*,5 f .,*4 .'sm. #«^' - 'i^m*^ M,4.^ ^> * •tWJPWPfl :!iis4h. -V *|»»r *?«»• vTi< 1 , i»^j» c. - ?*«■-■' ** t#»' «*-«■-#. •*♦- tmii i*. t-^ff^^Hi *u ,-*tiSK *t JwifwrtHmitti liniwillii .«*. -■*»«£* -»-*isS^ */:^^^:.. ■ •S■^ -m'-mim iM* -*»mi m'- -♦» '#t 5 - ■ ft .«ii»«-iB4«S «»Phi '1*1 ,^^Lgg -4MMiit'lAft£ ^' #1^- ^*l*-- tfjugjihwlwl hmtm. On nMJng »'U into the black ice. It w;is a queer idea, but they put her in mind of a funer.U, and her heart gi"ew heavy as with some new sori'ow. Wolf now^ came iKnmding dowu the road to meet her ; juid ;is slie jKittetl him on the h^ad with her mufl", an iinpuLso ojmie over her to enter the wooiis which she was now passinjcj, instead of g»>ing straight to the house. After climbing over the fence she wiuidei'ed up through the dark pines, that seemeit to mt^iu and sigh oven when there was no wind to stir them. The further !»he got into the wooils the heavier her heart k«TiM«* IB Ci if Iwr hwrt vwU %tmk, whOe Waif hr wmgn^oiif kit tMiI wmd fa a iu a g wrr mw^ |Ruried. (Hie iipit Krttipr after Xiam ; Mid fearing that Jadk vottliA «MM koMW and fhm wuuki he mmmi, Ae honied ImcIc W ^M hamm, vli«f« ahi» arnT«d ,^aH(l in tiaDM» to Mlp J tuck to take th<> {iMCiii «iA 0f tite 4ef -carl. ** WImti* hare rou heen all this time, Fl«>ra ?" he asked in snrprifle ; ** I vas lar- liiUy striking the dog on the ni>se with a book she held in her hand. " You took a strange time for rour walk, Flora," sj\id Jack, a-^ a \ ai^ie suspicion tlarteii across his mind — tlid she meet Leolf secretly, he qnerietl ; and if so, what was the cause of his cowardly suejiking conduct. Flora could make rai^e music come out of the little old- fasliioned piano at Hawk's Perch; and she used sometimes to play an«l sing for houit in the evenings while Jack lay on the sofa^ or, when she would let him, stvxxl by to turn over the leaves, while AIi-s. Welland sat quietly by at her knitting. But she never touched it now ; she had tried it a couple of times at Jack's b 'gging solicitation, but every note seemed to strike on her heart with an agony, 8 AC€*kS CniFTER TT. It was muinurht. and Flora st^md at hwr bedroom vindow vatching the northern ligkti aj$ thc'v ilart^pd in Aurp streaks acroN^ the northern skv. As she wati-hed them her mind wandorcti 6»r away over n\any a weary mile of land and water, to those vast s(>litudes where the white bears wander in and out of their icy ca^-es, and where the seals lift up their heads out of the sea an«l cry like some weinl human creatures. And tlion she reuiem- l-eretl having read an instance of two skelotous l»eing disco vcnxl lying in i\ l)oj\t wt^lgetl in betweim the icebergs, that hiul lain there umlisturlKHl for twelve years. She thought of the bones rattling ;igiiinst the boat with a hollow stiund, va\<\ of tlie sciveching of the wild northern binls as they flew by. It was fearful to think of such a solitude as this ; and in thinking of it she l)eg5\n to think her own room very silent and solitixiy. She threw some moix) wood on the fiw, which had gone down, and stirnvl it till it cnvcklotl and blazed and sent a shower of s{>arks wp the cliimnoy, and then pnxx5cded to undress hci'solf for bed. After putting on her night-dross, she wnipiwd her- self in a hwivy orange and purple strii>ed wrapper, and taking a packet of Icttei's out of her ilesk, she knelt down on the nig bofoi'O the tii"e, and after reading them one after the other, she laid her face down on the rug and wept long and bitterly, her whole body quivering with the intensity of her solxs. When her grief had spent itself, she rei)lacod the letters in her dress, and kneeling down beside h(ed aaid hor accustomed evening prnyei". HAWrS PERCn. 83 Sh^ lay f»*r a lonjf tim«» watehins the fir»» with a far off hnnpry jit, but by aad bj her eyelids iiroope«l, and she alept. The still was hurh in the heavens when Flora awoke, and every branch and twig was frptteti with hoar frost, that had fallen over tlie earth like a cloud of rare lace, w;u-|»ing itself al»out the tn»t^ anered with a bitter pang when she would have delighted in such a morning jvs this, but the sunlight seemed to mock hor now — slie liked tlie dark days best. There came h, thaw after this and heavy rains that biTike up the ice in the pond, and sent it cankering in great ledgt^s (K)wn the swollen creek, and that threatened to carry aw^iv the machinery at the mill. It wa.s eleven o'clock at night, and Mi-s. Wt>llaud and Flora sat at tho dining-wom fire waiting for Jack, who had not loft the mill all day. •' You had better go to bed, my dear; you are not look- ing at all well, I am afraitl yo\i will bo ill," said Mrs . Wolland, looking anxiously at Flora. " Nom>s«Mise Aunt H«>lla, I want to get some supper with you and Jack," said Flora, a little impatiently. ^VORN LEAVESL Mrs. Wellaiul iras a little mollitieil at L«r nionti.m oT •up|)er ; but she sigheil as slie raised her eyes and lke looking for a letter, ami she never cried now ; but her complexion had grown givy and ashen, and there was a leaden hungry look in her eyes, that it cut Mrs. Welland to the heart to see. Jack Cixme in just as the clock was striking twelve^ wet and tired, and hungiy enough to appreciate with the utmost intensity tlie lu-ight fire and hot supper, and loving welcome that awaited him. " Poor Jack, how tirod ho is to-night," said Flora to herself, as she sat in a little rocking chair before the firo in her own room, but who did not appear to have any notion of going to bod, tliough the kitchen clock had just struck one. " How fearfully tlie wind blows," she continued, glan- cing up at the window which rattled again as a fierce blast wont whistling by. Turning down the flarmi of the lamp as low as jwasiblo, slio placed it on tho floor, and pulling open the window, looked out at tho wild, windy mght. Dark ragged clouds were liyiiig across tho sky^ now and agjiin giving a glimi)80 of tho wan moon. Tho wind came down through the dark pines with a wild roar, whistling and shrieking i\bout Hawk's Perch, laHJiiug tho heavy pine boughs against tho house, and rattling the lu'own ooi\e8 ugaiust the window piines as if they would shatter tluMu to pieces. As Flora listi'ued to tho ttash oil thn waterfall, which could be distim'tly henvd above tlu^ UAWK\^ PERCH til roaring of tb^ winds, a great Icmj^ixig came OT«*r her to be near it — to standi out in the wild night, and feel its spray upon her face. Closiiijj the window, she went to a closet, froiu which she took a pair of nibl>ers, which ahe pulled on over her slip|)ers ; she then proceeded to array herself in a large waterproof cloak, an«l after tying a crimson knitted kerchief over her heatl, she again opeueil the window, and crept out over the roof of the verandah, closing the window after her. She crept cautiously along till she came near the edge of the verandah, quite close to which a largo tree stocd, into the bi'anches of which she climbed, and after a good deal of scrambling and slipping, she found herself on solid ground, with Wolf standing beside her, wagging his tiiil, and looking u{> wondering] y into her fiico, which a little glim}»so of tho moon showed looking as wan as itself. In a few minutes she was sitting ou a stone down by tho waterfall, with the spray spattering over her, with her eyes closed, and with her face buried in her hands, listening to tho dashing of the water and the howling of the wind. As slie sat thus she felt very desolate, and yearned passionately for }ier mother, as she remembered doing when she first came to Major Lowden's, and whom she remembered as a gentle, angol-liko woman, with a voice like tho cooing of a dovo. Gradually there seemed to come a lull over the wind and tho water, and Flora found herself enveloped in a soft silvery cloud ; looking up wondoriugly, she saw ft face through which the light of heaven atiomed to beam fts it looked j)ityingly down at her. A great peace came over lipr, and she Htn?tohod her hands towards it with a joyful cry, for sho know that it waa her mother*! face ; ii ACOMLN LEAVES. biit it niceded from her, and other faces came and groupre," she continn«»«i, **roa »e«neii t4i be sleeping »> oinnfortablr, and I thought I would bring up your breakfa.st :" an«l sh«' drew a little table imranis the be^l, on which she proceotiotl to arrange Floni's bre;ikfast. A bright fire was blazing in the fire- place, ami a pleasant odour of coffee and beefsteak jwr- vadotl the room. ** Dejir aunt B«^lla, how good you are," said Flora, kissing her. " There is no need for me to have my breakfast lirought up, I am sure ; a person would think I W!is sick," she Siiid, laughing, and then catching her bi-eath with a little sobbing sigh. When Flora sat \ii>, she found that her neck wivs stiff, and that her head ached ; but seeing that Mrs. Welland was very low-spirited, she did not say anything about it. " I wonder who the lottei's ixre from," she said, turning them over indiffci'ontly, as she sat sip})iug her coffee, after Mrs. Welland had gone out of the ixiom. One was from Major Lowden. She gave a little joyful gasp, and her fingers closed lovingly over the other one ; it was from Frank Loolf. On tearing it open impatiently, sho saw that it was very short, and on reading it sho fo\ind that it was very cold, very businoss-like, and voiy formul. Ho acknowledged the ivoeption of the picture sho had Bont him, and thanked her for it, and then made somo every day ineneling with servants ;" and a little further on he said : " Wo have seen a gootl deal of Frank Leolf lately ; ho seems to l>e quite gay this winter." " Gay !" " He was gay! while she " but she did not finish the sen- tence. Taki !» the crushed letter, she stepped out of bed, and, walking over to the fire, threw it in. Slipping a little gold ring from her linger, she threw it in after it ; and taking a i)ackot of letters from her desk, she threw it in also, and stood nnd watched it till it mingled with the ashes. This was tlio funeral pile of her love for Frank Lcolf. Flora felt as if she had been viewing the world through a pair of enchanted spectacles, which had been suddenly snatched away from her eyes, showing it to her as it was. Here was she fretting and wearing her life away, and making every one in the house miserable, for one that never gave her a thought. ** Oh ! how selfish and migrateful I have been," she exclaimed, us she roin(>mbered their unceasing efforts to interest and aniuso h(n', and how kind and patient they had boon with her through it all. It was HO long hIuco Flora had taken any interest in anything about the house, that INlrs. \V<'lland was (piite ourpriHcd to see her cuter th(5 kitchen with her apron on, and volunkun' to help her with sonio checso cakes sho %vas baking. HAWK S PERCH 8t •* I am nfriiil yim will tir*» yourself, my «i*»Mr.'* sho sjiitl. Iettiii<; ln>r ha\<' her way. how-«'ver, ;is inout, ft»eilins; the hinls .•uul wjiteiinij the flowers, which actetl on Mrs. Wellund's spirits like the sun on a thennonieter. As Jack ncared the lionse on his wav home to teai, ho heanl the pijmo fjoinp merrily, which, strange to sajr* Bent a sharj> pain throujjh his heart, which ho was ashamed of the next moment, however. He had long gnessed the cause of the change in Flora's spirits, Avhieh he saw was beginning to prey on her health, and it was with a feeling of thankfulness that ho had taken Frank Leolfs h^ter out of the post that morning ; but he wan only a man, and it was a little bitter to think that a few words from another — a i>er8on she had not seen or heard from for months — could alter her whole Ix^ing, Avhilt> he, who was with her so much, had not the jwwer to i*ous(< her for an instant. Ho tried to remombor when it was that she had crept in and entwined herself about his hosu't till she had grown to bo part of his very existence. TheiTi aimo lieavy snows at Christnuus time that bloekcxl up the roads, and kept the ]Iawk's Penih people from getting to town ovon to get their wants for Chiistinas. Jack brought Fl|mnitory to poing down to the ntill. " It wotild scarcely U> worth while to attempt it for the sjike of the Christnuus niagjizints," he answe!*od iu his nmtter-of-fact war. *' I shoiihl think you would want to po to the post hy this time," sjud Flom, a« she pitk«*ld in her hands. Jack looked, for nho did not hear Jack come in, nor had she yet looked up tht)Ugh he stood in the bright lire-liy[ht, with tho crimson liangings brunhing his forehead. " I have got a letter for you, Flora," ho said in a low voice as ho advanciul towards hov. •• Why, Jack, how you frightened me," she said, start- ing and looking ui> at hiui with a bright smile, as sho Htretchetl out her hand to tako the loiter which he held towards hoi'j but as hor eyo caught the address, written in Frank IjeolfH hand, nho drew back, and looking wist- HAWK S PERCn. 91 ftillj u|» at him, mid in a low wailing tnoiae, ** I doo't waiit it ; put it int<) iho hn\** His hf'art pjue a wiM )H>un«I, sintl the simrks dancetl jnadiy licforr liis < n»s .i^ he thn^w it into tho llani<>s. It Mazt^l out, aiid th<"i dew up tin' ciiauuey a blackeuctl cimlor. " Whrro did you g<'t it ? is the roati bix>ken ?" asked Flora, suiMoiily. " No, I snow shood it t j town," he aiunrired. " Jack, you walked to town because you tluujLfht T expected that letter," ahe said, looking mpla£ently eating tbeir breakf^uit out of a bftiiket into which they have enough provisiomi [racked to LiHi them fur a week. ** I^ kt me waali jmsr free, Jdbi, it will fra^a yoa vp so,7 ■■J> t^ oU wooMHi, iiff^mg tiw mmm of » aa^iii inta a wMc mititlMd bottl* wUdb Am hm trirm •n ftlbe tnnrikb te ^ to tiw «tiwr onl «f tihe cm^ to M 1 40 A CORN LEA VES. " Do let me alone," says John testily ; " I am as fresh as I want to be : wash your own face." And he composes himself to go to sleep as comfortably as circumstances will permit, and is soon in the land of dreams, with his mouth open and his head awry ; out of which slumber he is rather rudely awakened, however, by the old woman slapping the wet napkin over his face. A skirmish ensues in which the old lady proves ^'ictorious, to the rage and disgust of her lord and master, who fumes and rubs his face furiously with a red cotton handkerchief ; while she, after mildly straightening her flat sun bonnet and putting her shawls to rights, proceeds to stow away the remains of the breakfast. " Nice fresh figs," calls a childish voice in the distance, and the next moment the train boys are down on us in full force with figs, oranges, peanuts, popped com and prize packages. " Book, Miss," says a little sharp-faced fellow, flinging a dime novel at me, which bears the rather startling appellation of " The Convict Horror ;" and " an 'orrible tale" it must have been to judge by the illustrations that enlivened its pages, one of which repi^ sent^ a man of giant stature and ruflianly appearaiu^ threatening a fragUe young lady with a great deal of hair, who was on her knees before him, with a bltidge(m big emmgh to fell an ox, while in tJbe baekgrmmd vms a £iiihiiMialily dressed young g^itlenuui vitli Terr large mf&^ ficmrkhing a batae pnttrf witli what w«s intended to be a tragie air, but, who ioofced for adi tine wcrM as if ON THE TRAIN. U\ following dialogue took place while they were cutting the leaves with their jack knives, the blades of which wero encrusted with tobacco : — No. 1. — ■*' I saw Joe at Dayton last week." No. 2. — " Joe is a nice fellow." No. 1. — In a doubtful tone — *' Ye-es, a very nice fellow." " Oh, I think he is so handsome," chimed in a young girl who was sitting opposite to them. No. 1. — '" Yes, but a fellow can't live on his good looks." No. 2. — " Well now, Bob, tell me, honestly, did you ever know a nicer fellow than Joe ?" No. 1. — " Well, honestly, I can't say I ever did know a nicer fellow, but I have known plenty of fellows with more snap." No. 2. — " Joe minds his business." No. \. — " Yes, but some person has got to give it to him to mind." No. 2.—" He'll stick to a thing." No. 1. — " Y^ that's so ; he'll stick to a thing. He has got to get put at it ; but when he once gets put, I'll be banged if he ain't the all-firedst fellow for staying put I ever did see." With which decisive observation Joe's diaracter was dn^^ied for the ray^^teries oi ih&r yellow- covered {mrchases, while I loc^ out of the window with tbe mfehuschoiy redectixm tliat ihem are bmmv Joes thaa mm m Hm woiid. As db«^ 142 ACORN LEAVES, hat, and who also most invariably carry a hand trunk and a slim-looking overcoat ; and who look as if they never had smiled since the day they were born, nor never intended to smile the longest day they have to live, such is the earnestness of their expression of countenance. There are also women who are tall and lanky, and who have sallow complexions, and who speak through their noses and wear buff travelling suits because they are not buff enough. These females — who have likewise a smile- less expression of countenance — ask each other in a high key where they live and where they are going, what they are going for and how long they intend to stay, how old they are and, if they are matrons, how many children they have got, and how old they are, and finally conclude by inquiring of each other if the car is not very close and very dusty and very much crowded. And still we go on and on, and the day drags very wearily. Now we are trundling along the edge of a mighty precipice that for a moment makes us feel as if we were hanging in mid- air, and now we are rattling over a broa;! sweep of pmirie, over which there are gaily-tinted birds A uming hither and thither, and diving into the green es of prairie grass that are rolUng towards us for miies and Bulefl like the waves of the aea, and which, as they chase each other before the summer breease, I aimoet expect to break and aead ap lihowers of white v^ny. My fiorbetb attt^apt to go to d0q» brin^ ap (at tiw a Txrid piete> 3 eneath tho stars at dead of night, with chisped hands and drooping head, surrounded by weird shiulows and with the pale moon- beams falling about it ; and I thought of it standing in the crimson glow of the setting sun, and in driving wintry storms and soft summer rains — always with the same agony in its face and the same despair in its atti- tude. And then I began to think it was not in such a bad tix after all, seeing it never had to wear any rolls in its hair, nor any hair-pui>> to get twisted the wrong way and stick into its eai-s and its neck and otherwise torture it, nor any sleeve-links to get printed on iis wrists, nor any laces in its boots to get tied ioo tight, nor anything else to squeeze and pinch it when it went travelling. At which high flight of imagination some porion enve mc a shake. Starting up, I was suq)rised to see the gas lighted, the car standing perfectly still and every person crowding out. So I straightened my hat and fastened my gloves, and crowded out too. On stepping off the car the queerest feeling of littleness came over me — I felt as if I was not a whit bi^er than Mrs. General Tom Thumb ; and no matter how fast I walked, I felt as if I were going very ilowlj and only taking steps an inch long. In pn^Mrticm ac I felt little ev^y body and everjtiung else looked big ; and I had to stand aad look at the car far the npace of five lainatw to reaiibe that I was rcallv azid trolv *^ itC IIm; traia.** MISS VANDYKE. CHAPTER I. A LOW, deep-roofed, old-fashioned Canadian house was Robinsrest, with many gables and broad eaves, beneath which the pee- wees built their nests in the budtling spring time. Grey lichens covei-ed the low picket fence that enclosed the garden, in which the first wild snow-drops were now nodding their fnigrant pink and white heads among the little drifts of last year's loaves that lay about the fence. Such was our house — ^the household consisting of my mother, myself who was fourteen, my sister Carrie who was seven years old at the time my story commences, and Mattie Bray, our maid <^ all work, a good simple-hearted creature, to whoni we children were very much attached. My mother, who was a widow with a moderate income, had hitherto devoted the greater part of her time to our educatioa ; but having fallen into ill iMalth, she OMundered it expedient to get a govevuem for OS, particaiarlj am abe would be undn* the neeiMi^ of ipffiwiing tiie naBmer montha at tiie aea for tht hane6t of Btvra to ■m^ f ",- , --.-'i t ««.. ■m c*««.-. u* nvH »i(.j _ -mt- Mi -1l« ^fc « »** 4 mm mm:'ii »i m - *-rm9 awf.---? fi-tt. ^ ti m I i ~ **-. , im«i^- -m^twm- f» "«f^ m» -rp X *m*'*tmm'-> i$m^iH m mm^ -"WW I im ijinivaqu iii^imiiw « -mi^'^'- ttii m»^ '■*'i^ vttii* 5 ■• trt A iMf *. «lt! -»f ^MW- #i* "&?!*■ ,* v#- -.JtP-'*- *i:, iii ..*te-# i -«.• ^. "S- ■ ! ^fi ., i i.i»-»'t sm itf^^li- vmm' w^m^'i^m'^- ^»,»i>»S.,r ,^ ,i:,» ™ ,^<, H -i^.f -t~- -f#« !:;«■» .m^- t. »■! H 174 ACORN LEAVES. tearful co\mtonRnct> ; but hor quick wit came to her aid, and sho it\solv«Hl on the instant to tleny evorytliing, and stick to it thi-ough thick and thin. Accent Unjj;ly, wlieu All", lienai-os showeefoi*o in sucli a bold tone and with .s\ich an unabashed ail' that Chvra staixxl at her in annuenient. ** Wliy, Betty, don't you wniember mo givinj^ it to you for bringing mo the little baskets from the Indian c^im[> 1" sho said, having made a full confession tlio evening befoi'o. '' No, I novor saw it befoi'o in my life," siud Botty, coolly. " Now, Betty, what is tho use of saying thati" asked Clara, ivady to cry. *' Don't you riMucinbcr, it was tho morning you brought the bou(iU(>ts to Mrs. Delong's ; and oh, Hotty ! don't you ronioniber," h\w said, as if suddenly Htruck with a renicinbranco, ** how frightened 1 was of tho gunitowder you brought to school in your bag I" "lilidii'i l>ring it to school," Haid Betty (juickly ; "I thinnv it over tho fence." Mr. and ^trH. Bonaros glanood miiokly at (^aoh otlier nnd then back at tho childnn\. Hetty, Hotung sho had cottmdtled lierself, began to cry; and HUinioMing that Clara had divulgtul tho vholo secret i)f tho powder, though hIio had not ho much as thought of it before, sho began to protest vi^luMuendy that it was not her fault it had dot\e harm ; it was (Jlara who spilt it over tho bouipaUs ; and it was thoso pooph^ who wont to Htoal tho grapes nuido it explode in (he garden. Neither J\lr. nor Mrs, nenarcH ctatld rcHtrnin their laughter at thiiH unexpoctovUy hearing tho groat inyHtory BETTTR LAST THEFT. 175 that had R£ntateroast of tlio whole aflair. tclHni' how she had come by the jMJwder, and liow she hail traded the ui-ooch to the sqnaw for a j>iu cushion, ttc. &c. After which she felt very much relieved. Mr. Benares sat down to his writing; desk, and, with Betty seated on a little stool Ijeside him, wi*ote a plain unvarnished account of tho whole mlTair for the Wiffoio' bank Chronicle^ which made its appearance in due ttmo, to the no small amusement of tho town. ]letty dilic life, to which she has never returned, pj-omisiijg fairly to grow up an \ipright woman. It is again the hour of eloveu and a hright moonlight night, and wo take the lilxn'ty of again peeping into Mr. Tom Wallt'r'H room. lie ami his fiiendH hnv(^ just return(>d fron\ (he "early <'loHiug" nuH\tiug and are in high HpiritM, having cai-ried the day. " 1 wonder if (here is anything in the Cfiro>ii\'h\** said Charley IJivi^rn, ptdling that pajter out of his jtocket and unfoltling it, while 'rmn Wallers proi"e(>d(d to j-lear oil" the tahle, (tn which he had idreaily placed eerlain tin cans and other articles of a decidedly festive appearance. ••A uuxlein guupowd(M' plot! Haloo, boyHt here's fnii," shouted Charley llivcra ; and, amidsl shouts of laughter 176 A CORN LEAVES. from his companions, he read Mr. Benares* account of the robbery and gunpowder mystery — the latter of which, for certain reasons known to the reader, had been a greater mystery to them than to any person else in the town. Our young friends commence their supj>er in high good humour, and the curtain falls. A NOVEL, BY POPPY BELL. The sun peeped in through the scarlet creepers that shaded Poppv Bell's l)edroom window one fine morning in October, and played over the roses on the wall ]>ajM^r like a littlo shower of golden sj>niy, as Poppy Bell lay fast asleep and dreaming, we must suppose, of some gi*eat literary success, for she exclaimed, *' I believe I will write a novel !" That moment she awoke and drew one of her littlo white feet out from between the leaves of Webster's Dictionary, whore it had reposed the greater i>art of the night— for Miss Bell was a young lady of litemry tast«^s. " A novel, by Poppy Bell : that would look very well at the head of a review in the Graphic or advertised in the ])npers. I Hup|)oso it would have a cream-coloured cover lik(< * Lothair,' or * Conu^th u]) as a Flower ;' and as it wo\dd bo a Canadian novel, it would of eotirst^ l>avo a piotui'o of a beaver clunving ninple hnives «m tlu^ back of it. But what will it be aboutl that is the (pu'slion," she said, throwing a couple of Faber's di-awing p<>ncili against the (H)[»oHito wall with a good deal of acrimony, and then rubbing the back of her neck where they had Imprinted life like imagc>H of themselveH (hiring the night. •• It woiild be a good idiMi to lay the hcpuo at Hice T a good d(>al ahout IndiauH in il. ' And then she remembonMl having oncovisitetl Hice Lako on a dark «lay 16 179 ACORK LEAVM8. In Hwrcntev wktm it kj lik*^ ink hf^kr^tli tJbe Awiily ilgr ilKiaked Willi jellow ric" bcMh, uid with the treoi ok tfw ialMMk tJM* dotted it luiiiding up black aiiwni liko a pontoon Itritlj^c wh«»n we walked on it, and that luul a lot of little Ijuats moored alioiit it. Tlien^ weir some decoy ducks lying among coils of rope and old ntsty chains on the end of it, and there was a house on the shore with trees about it, and covereil with vine tendrils that sprawled and clung over it, reminding me of the tidons oi some giant binl that were about to fiisten themselves jflto it and tear it to pieces. Ugh ! it was a dreary day that," she said with a little shudder, as she drew a volume of " Les iVIisei-ables" and a volume of *' Maaiulay's Mis- cellanies" out from underneath her pillow and threw them on a little tjiblc at the foot of her bed, and dragging <* Jack Hiuton" and " Little Women" out in the akii't of her night-urcss as she stepped out of bod. " Bother the books," she said, giving them a kick as they fell to the floor ; and then clapping lier hands as a light broke over her face, she said, " I have got it — Wild wave." It will of course be unch^rstood that Miss Popj)y Bell wjis saying this to horaolf — or rather that it was passing throiigli her mind without bouig said at all ; and while she busies horsolf at her toilet, wo will eudouvour to explain hor last idea. WiUhvavo was the namo of a gentleman's beautiful place, pioturosipioly situated on Ijiike Ontario. This place had scon many vioissitnth's, it having changed ovvnori* u dozen times, and Poppy 'h idea A wmmok, »r popfy bmsli. nt iriBB Hi hu i Mij far tfc» ▲Aer Inii^ -vMsat fer mamm mtm^hm, it luid tMMMW cMKapied hv an ICiMrfjiji flMiinHHi m^ y* wife, who Ut aJI ai^M'snaow h;Mi iiottt Imlnljr in»rrif>4, mail on whom P<>}»f»y haii jsrazptl with a fpnid rhiiJ a€ c'.uiosity tho Hurulay In^ftHt* in churfh. Tlic genthnian. who was a{»|iaivntly alumt forty years old. was strikingly handsome, with a majestic tignre and a feir Ssixon complexion. He seemed wreath of ;ims. Po})py's home — which went by the name of Fii'sthouso fi\)m the fact of its Iwing tho iiret house that hud ]>een built in that part of the country — was a picturesque and commoilious, though oild and old-fashioned dwelling, which nestled like a bird's nest among the pine bouglis on the hill si(U\ llor father, wlio was an old navy oflicm", was wont to boast, jus Ik? stood at his door and looked down at tho sn\oking chimney stacks and glittering church spiivs that iniai'ed tluMuselves on tho odgfi.of the lako, and then at tho broad swet^pof fin-tile country that, dotted with eomfortablo honn^stends, rolled away towards tho lako — ho M^as wont to botvst that lu> could i't>nuMnb(\r tlu» time when he could stand on that spot and s«w nothing but tangled fon^st as far an tho tye could reach. It wan one ot thoNo balmy Indian sun\mer ilaya when the siui Ml oni wiA tfw nilnrtiaa <>f v-uituif Wr Ikmkmii friw4, ttitti Wirt, vImi lir honcM* aiw iroaid iMre to paM Wiidware. Ska valketl altmir throuiEfa tlie sweetHMsrated anioiia aiuier- neatli tJic rain <>f falling l^^ares. lutening to tibo aerMehmg; an«i tapf*ing of the moodfieckerH. and w^tekiag the V>rigfat ahafUi of Bunl^dit that crept iii thrmi^ tbe bmigfas and flailed over the jfreen velvety moas, now strewn with bright leaves, till she came to a little thicket of cellar and hemlock, into which she turned, starting the chicka- dees, who fluttered out of their cool retreat into the scarlet cloud of maple boughs overhead. Before she had gone many yards, a dark face with lanky blsick liair streaming about it i>eered curiously out thixjugh the green boughs at her. ** Gt>otl morning, Mattie," called out Poppy. The face brightenetl on recognising her, but disappeared instantly without taking any notice of her salutation. In a few moments she found herself in a little opening where a lire built of logs wjvs burning before a little wigwam built of cedar boughs, beside Avhieh an Indian girl was seated scraping a strip of bark with a glittering kuife. . '* Mattie, mamma told mo to toll you that you could have some meat if you wont up to tho house ; they havo been killing lambs," said J oppy. •' Yes, ma'am," murmured Mattie, gathering her dark locks into a net in honour of her visitor and throwing a coil of silvery bii*ch bark on tho firo, which sent up a log f^pniinf Imv* m Am M^ttattcw! » Hm of Iter laidifi iwlrnig awlanah m ker dtl iwmImI a^ vitJt a oMipis of |p«Mt hoMB rani in Imy can a ooople mcNV nri, sad with • pot lying oa (n^ lade of ber and a — neepan «ft the other, and with an old cla> pi{>e stuck over the e, was in the habit of coming out from the back country every summer and takiiig up her solitary aboj ImkI got mmm 4HliBee from tb*- woodl^ and was Mttntfring alBim lialnMBg ^kmmmakx to Uir cr k lBe te durp- isi$: iu dw (Irind ipwM. when Kl»e oaaae to a creek tkat WfNin\vn otwit she had on. ** It ia wery warm to-day, Miss," Sivid Nannie, who spoke in a quaint old dialect that always ivminded Poppy of Oluiuctn's poems — for Nannie, like many another oduity as well a« many a very oixUnary individual, had cn.»«,aod the >\ ild wa\ca of tho Atlantic in seaixh of a homo in the New World. nr /*<##•/•! Bmj^ 4owB at db» Aanf ef Jttii that \mj i vitii M»» fbqpMMMMilL ** T the eiigo of tho bank, she swung herself down to tho beach by tho aid of some bushes that grew out of tho Imnk. As sho walkoil along, the bank grow highe»' and steeper and tho boach grow niu'i*owor and narrower, till sho was loft with scai'coly room to walk «w«Jk»«'«i wr^fv Kkitumiaff i^anal * ■ — rl i itic kmr iw» vith rlif ir vinir^. atnt flutternig in ami oat of ^Htr aoili which p«*rf(«nit3p thnmirli tl»o ffT«os. As she !«jit ilown on ft h^rp' flat rock t>> n- was start leil to s»^' a larg« Hog, which on near^T appn>ju"h she |HMveiveotit half a dozen yanls from where she sat, and Iwj^an to jviw furiously in the sand. Nannie's story fl:u«he«l in her mind like lightJiinsj, and she sju'jxng towanls it shouting, "Be ott', sir! gti home !" when it at{»rte tho hole in the sand, she ptdhni out a hook iti mnnusori]>t, the leather covers of which had been chewed into a hall hy the dog. As she glanced through it hor heart jiunped, and hor cheeks flushen^prietor of Wildwave. What luck for it to fall into her hands ! Providence had sui'^ly r.iiT»oted hw to it. Stufling it into her pocket, she scawely divw breath till she found herself in the arms of Stella Wirt, whoso i»»itionoo wa»s almost worn out waiting for her. On t<>lling her story atul piodueing the mr\nuscnpt> Poppy was stirprisetl to lind that her frieiul, who was a few veal's older than herself, t()ok a very dirt\m>nt view of the matter fwm what she did. '* Why, Poppy," she A .worxL, BT r^iprr hsLL ■tmigiit to Wiliiw»n-« widi it wiMti ymt fbnnd mtt what it WM ; it wottid be a drHkJful thing if tkmf wmr^ U) Ami «mt Tfra had it. But cmne wn anr." ** Very well, I don't care what you t it, 1 sup]M)so tliero will bo no harm in ixNiding it, but of courao wo must never say anything about it." " No," jimd Poppy, looking curiously nt the nmnuseript, while Stella began : — •* Tliough oast on Iho worM, an orphan an"e, 1 belong to an old mul hoiioui able lOnglish fan\ily. I wim boru at Htowell, a grand old ball in t'orn- WulK which, together with its bn>ad lands, passed out of my parauts' hands in my inlaucy through various roversos 186 ACORN LEA VES. ©f fortune which it would ha tedious for me to relate- To redeem my family esfcite — to stand in the halls of my ancestors and say, 'This, too, is my home' — -had been the dream of my childhood, youth and early manhood. Like most persons that start out in life with a deter- mination to gain an object, I gained mine. I found myself, at the age of forty, in full possession of Stowell — my wildest dream was realised; but, alas for human ambition ! I was not content. The pursuit of gain, in which I had hitherto been so successful, now became an unconquerable passion with me. The heaping up of riches for their own sake became the grand object of my existence. I had been in possession of Stowell about two year^ when I met with a serious pecuniary loss through the treachery of an agent in whom I had placed the most implicit confidence for years — a loss that threatened to dispossess me of my beloved Stowell, and indeed would have done so had I nou retrieved my fortunes at the eleventh hour by marrying a wealthy young Jewess, with whom, or rather with whose fortune I had become acquainted through business transactions with her father. Though Leah Isaacs, on whom I had now bestowed the proud name of Stowell, was as beautiful as a dream xi\ the peculiar style of her countrywomen, such a tiling as loving her had never entered my head. I looked upon my mrarriage merely in the light of a sacrifice to that money-god, the bowing do^vn to which had become second nature to me. Leah, with her great pissionate eyes and her long lanky hair, and her queer O' Bible name, was ^ery different from the mistress I d designed for A NOVEL, BT POPPY BELL. 187 Stowell ; tor though I had never known the passion of love, I had had my dreams of ingrafting the old family tree with a name as proud as jts own, and of becoming the founder of a new race of Stowells ; for being the only son of an only son, the race had become almost extinct. That my wife had abjured her faith for me without a murmur — that she had given her entire fortune into my hands on her wedding day — that she was content to live in almost total seclusion at Stowell for my sake, (for I had forbidden her to return the visits of the country families), were facts that had never cost me a thought. Leah sometimes amused me by her description of her life at Venice and Florence, where she had resided with her father before coming to England, but generally I was glad to escape from what I looked upon as her childish devotion. She anticipated all my wants, and waited upon me and followed me about in a manner that I found paj> ticularly irksome, accustomed as I had been to such perfect liberty all my life. Another source of annoyance to me when I was at home, which was not very often as my business called me away a great deal, was the presence of Leah's old nurse, a gaunt, harsh-featured, Jewish woman, whose devotion to her mistress I could only compare to that of a faithful dog to his master. The retention of this old woman, whom she called Hagar, in Ler service was all Leah had asked after all she had given, and I granted her request with a gi*udge. ' Oh, Stuart, who do you think I saw down in the village to-day but old Lucio,' said Leah one evening as she took her place at my feet when I sat down to write some business letters. 188 ACORN LEAVES. * Old Lucio ! who is that ?' I said as I scribbled away, scarcely noticing what she said. * Why, old Lucio, my old Italian drawing-master that used to give me lessons at London. Don't you remem- ber me telling you about him?' * I think I do,' I said again. *He has been travelling through the country taking views, but he will have to stay in the village for a few months to finish up some pictures j and Stuart, he says he would not mind coming to Stowell a couple of times a week to give me lessons, if you would not mind,' she said, putting her arms about me in her caressing way. 'It would be so nice for me to have something to do when you are away so much, and you know I always loved my drawing lessons so.' ' Come, come, Leah, don't be so childish, you hinder me from writing,' I said, impatiently, putting her arms away from me. And then she said, as she always did when the coldness of my heart towards her manifested itself in my manner, * You English are so queer,' as she shook her head and looked at me with a half wistful and half incredulous expression in her great eyes — a look I did not care to call up, as notwithstanding my indifference towards her, it haunted me unpleasantly sometimes when I was far away from her. * Well, well, Leah,' I said in a conciliatory tone, 'you can make as many woolly pictures as you like, only don't bring any of your musty old drawing-masters near me.* One night, a couple of weeks after this, I became excessively annoyed at Leah for sitting up till a very late A NO VEL , B Y POPP Y BEL L. 189 hour awaiting my return, after a few days' absence. She spi-ang to the door to meet me, but I held her off, saying coldly, ' It is very sUly for you to sit up here for nothing, Leah ; you ought to be in bed.' * I did not sit up for nothing — I sat up to see you,' she said in a joyous tone, still trying to cling to me, and holding up her face for a kiss ; but I did not choose to see it, and still held her off, saying harshly, ' Leah, if you knew how it annoys me to see my wife acting like a silly girl, you would try to be more womanly. I never had anv nonsense about me ; but if I had, I am old enough to have got over it by this time.' She looked mystified at the commencement of this observation, but as I concluded she turned deadly white, and there flashed into her eyes a look of wild dismay as she shrank away, saying, ' I am sony I annoyed you, Stuart ; I will not do it again.' Leah thrust neither her caresses nor her company on me from that time, and the consequence was, I saw very little of her for some months. Once on returning home in the middle of the night, after being absent for a longer period than usual — for my business engrossed me more than ever — I was surprised to find a light in the drawing-room, and Leah lying fast asleep on the sofa. As she lay wrapped in a scarlet shawl, and with her face pressed against the crimson velvet sofa pillow, it struck me tliat she looked pale and wasted, an idea that had occurred to me in a transitory way some time before, but I had never given it a second thought. * Mrs. Stowell got nervous and could not sleep and came out here to try and get a little rest,' said Hagarl 17 190 ACORN LEAVES. who was never very far away from her mistress, and who now came and stood at the foot of the sofa. 'Is she ill?' I asked. * No,' she said sullenly, * she is as well as she ever is now.' And then turning on lae savagely, she said, * You are killing that child with your colcbiess and neglect ; she is fading away like her mother, and you will have her death at your door.' I thought for a moment the woman had gone mad, and was about to make her some reply, when Leah awoke with a start. Hagar was at her side in an instant, and she clutched hold of her, saying, ' Oli, Hagar ! you frightened me so. I thought you were talking to Stuart;' and then perceiving me, the old joyous light flashed into her eyes, but died out almost instantly as she said, * We were not expecting you home to-night, Stuart. Indeed we were not. Were we, Hagar T The old woman answered her by giving me a look of the blackest scorn. * Xioah, if you have been ill, I ought to have known it,' I said seriously. *I am not ill, I am very well,' she said hurriedly as she shrank away, clinging to Hagar as she left the room. * It is a pity I ever had anything to do with women, I soliloquized. * I can never understand them. If you don't take any notice of them, they say you are neglecting them ; and if you do takg notice of them, they act as if you were going to do them some bodily injury, or as if you were a wild beast.' Notwithstanding the sanguine manner in which I justified my conduct, Hagar's words A NOVEL, BY POPPY BELL. 191 rang in my ears even after I went to sleep, which I did not do till the east was streaked with pin"ple. Having occasion the next day to drive into the country, I stopped at a wayside inn to wait for a gentleman with whom I had made an appointment on business. In the room next to the one occupied by me was a paxty of young men, whom I at first took to be young students out on a holiday frolic, but who, from their conversation^ I discovered to be a party of travelling artists. They interested me very little, however, and I was about to stroll out into the yard when my attention was riveted by the following conversation : ' When did you hear from old Lucio, Jack V * Oh ! not for months. He could not come down to such an earthly thing as writing a letter, unless it was to the object of his adoration, I suppose.' * Stowell must be a fool,' said the first speaker. *No, there is not much foolishness about him, as he showed when he married the " ace of diamonds," as we used to call her. But I don't suppose he suspects any- thing. He will wake up one of these days though.' * What about old Lucio ? asked another of the party, looking xip fiijiu a book he had been reading, 'Why, don't you remember Leah Isaacs that he used ■*-3 be so frantic about. Well, she married a regular swell, one of the Stowell's of Stowell Hall — married her for her money, you know. I thought Lucio had got over it; but when he came up here a few months ago with Charley and nie, we could not get him an inch past the little village near Stowell, and he has stayed there ever since ; and I heard the other day that he ha i been going 192 ACORN LEAVES. to Stowell twice a week all this time to give her drawing lessons.' * Oh ! but that is awful, you know,' said the young fellow he was addressing, bursting into a laugh in which the whole party joined. I waited to hear no more, but started out half stupified to order my horse for the purpose of returning immedi- ately to Stowell. Here, then, was an explanation of Leah's conduct the evening before, as well as an explana- tion of many things that had hitherto been a puzzle to me. The old family pride rose like a lion within me as I drove along the road, and my blood boiled as I thought of being made a dupe and a laughing stock of by the daughter of an old usurer and a drawing-master whom I looked upon as little better than a mountebank. It was late in the afternoon when I stepped into the hall door at Stowell. I was about to proceed straight to my wife's apartment when the sound of her voice, mingled with another voice scarcely less soft, caught my ear. Walking down to the end of the hall I entered a passage, at the end of which was a window belonging to a deep alcove in a room that Leah had fitted up as a sort of library, it being a favourite room of hers on account of the beauty of the view from the windows. It was from this room the sounds were proceeding, and going to the end of the passage I pulled open the window, which was partly shaded by a large picture that hung on the wall, but from which I had a full view of the room within. Leah was standing at a table strewn with drawing materials, looking intently at a picture which she held in her hand, while the Italian stood at the other side of the table with his lack to her, sharpening a pencil. A NOVEL, BY POPPY BELL. 193 'There is really no fault to find witli this picture, Lucio/ she said. ' It is the first one I have ever been satisfied with. I am sure I don't know how to thank you.' * I am glad you like it,' he said in a graceless tone, and with a slightly foreign accent, as he wheeled about and threw the pencil on the table. The first thing that struck me was the extreme youth of the man I had always imagined old enough to be Leah's father — an idea I now chose to think Leah had purposely given me by calling him ' old Lucio,' forgetting that his young artist friends had done the same, and that I had had dozens of opportunities of seeing him before, but always avoided doing so. He could not have been more than twenty-three, and looked boyish for that age. ' You can see him whenever you like now, and even speak to him without being snubbed,' he said in a sneer- ing tone, as she passed her fingers lovingly over the picture, which, to my astonishment a»i she turned it towards me, I discovered to be a very beautifully coloured portrait of myself. * He cannot be always at home, and I am sure he does not snub me. You have picked up all those horrid English words, Lucio,' she said in a fretful tone as she laid down the picture. * Why don't you kiss it — it's more than you dare do to the original,' he said, shoving it towards her so roughly that it fell on the floor. 'How excessively rude you are to-day,' said Leah, her face flushing with anger as she stooped to pick it up. 194 ACORN LEAVES. 'There won't be anything clone to-day if you don't commence,' he said, without taking any notice of this observation. * I am not going to do anything to-day,' she said coldly; ' you may go away now, and you may as well take all your copies, for I do not wish you to come back any more.' * If I have offended you, Miss Leah, — Mrs. Stowell, I am very sorry,' he said humbly, ' but I cannot stand being always treated like a dog.' * Treated like a dog!' said Leah in astonishment, 'Why you must be ci^azy. I never could understand you, Lucio, and you have got worse than ever lately.' 'Well, you will be rid of me soon; I — I am going to start for Italy, to-morrow,' he stammered without raising his eyes. ' For Italy,' she said joyfully; * and you never told me, Lucio.' ' I did not know how rejoiced you would be, or else I might have told you a month ago,' he said in a cold mocking tone. 'Why, don't you remember how joyfully you used to look forward to the time when you would go back to Italy?' ' Yes, I remember,' he said, as if speaking in a dream, * And don't you remember,' she said, ' how I used to put so much of my pocket money every week into the old green silk purse, to give you when you went away to help you to be a great artist ] That was when papa used to have to send Hagar Li two or three times while I was at my drawing lesson to tell me to stop chattering.' A NOVEL, BY POPPY BELL. 195 ' There is no clanger of any person having to check the exuberance of your spirits while you are at your drawing lessons now-a-days.' *0h, people always get different when they get married.' * Yes, particularly when they are happily married, like you.' Without taking any notice of this remark, she unlocked a little cabinet that stood behind her, from whence she took a faded green purse, out of which she emptied a little heap of small silver coins, to which she added a couple of bright scv^ereigns from her own purse, Baying, * Really, Lucio, you must take this for old times sake.' * How delighted you are to get rid of me,' he said, without looking at the money. * No, Lucio,' she said in a low sorrowful tone, * I was only glad because I thought you would be ; I will have no person at all to speak to when you are gone, and I don't care for my drawing when I have no person to show it to.' * I am better than no person.* * Yes,' she said, without appearing to notice the bitter- ness of his tone. * I will take this, and carry it next my heart till the day I die,' he said in a low smothered tone, as he put the silver pieces into the purse and put it into his pocket. ' But this,' he said fiei'cely, ' is part of the money that bought him ! — cxirse him !' and he threw it with all his strength against the opposite wall. Leah's eves dilated with amazement as she regarded him for a moment, and then moved towards the door. 196 A CORN LEA VES. ' You need not run away, I am not mad ! but you will have to hear me now,' he said, stepping between her and the door; and then his face became radiant with a great hope, and his voice softened to a tone I have since been reminded of on hearing the distant murmuring of music floating over rippling moonlit waves, as he said, * Come with me to sunny Italy, my Leah ! and we will study our art together. Leave your cold, hard, selfish husband, who values your happiness not half so much as that of one of his dogs, for one who would die to save you one hour's pain.' He attempted to take her hand, but she waved him off, saying in an icy tone, ' If you touch me I will scream for help.' And then his face darkened again and his eyes grew fierce, and he said, ' Why did you make me love you the first day] why did you encourage me to come here ]' ' I did not know — I did not think ' ' Oh no, I know you never thought anything at all about it — I was nothing but a boy — a baby to be petted or thrown aside at your pleasure ! But I have been a fool.- I might have known if your heart had not been as cold as ice towards me, you would have seen how madly I loved you. I could have borne it all if I had found you a happy cherished wife ; but it was too much for me when I found you neglected and pining your life away for one who never loved you. Yes,' he repeated, as she gave a little start, 'for one who is too selfish to know the meaning of the word love.' * Why did he marry me if he did not love me ? he had riches enough without mine,' she said with a little gasp. A NOVEL, BY POPIY BELL. 197 * Riches enough,' he repeated scornfully ; * did you never find out, poor fool, what the whole country knew, that he met with a heavy loss just before he married you, and that he only saved his place by his marriage V ' No,' she gasped, clutching the black velvet tablecover with her little wasted hand. The light came back into his fjxce and the soft music to his voice as he murmured again, trying to take her hand, ' Think of the emptiness of yom- life with such a man.' * Do not dare to touch me,' she said in an agonized voice ; ' whatever he married me for, he will at least protect me fi-om insult. Go away, do go away ; have you not tortured me enough — have I not enough to bear V He snatched up his portfolio while she spoke, and with- out uttering another word disappeared out of the window. It would be difficult to describe my feelings as I made my way to where Leah sat, so pale and still, with her handkerchief pressed against her lips. I felt as if my senses had all my life been wrapped in a veil which had been suddenly torn away by the passionate young Italian. *I am come to be forgiven, Leah,' I said, kneeling beside her and taking her hand in mine. She started and looked wildly at me, and then I perceived that the handkerchief was saturated with blood. ' My poor dar- ling, I have killed you,' I said, frantically snatching her up in my arms. * Leave her to me and send for a doctor,' said Hagar, who had just returned from a message to the village, and who was perfectly calm, though her face was almost as pale as that of her mistress. 198 A CORN LEA VE8. I carried Leah to bed, and then rushed down to the village for a doctor. I could not bear the agony of sus- pense while I sent a messenger. The doctor looked keenly at me when he returned from my wife's room with the report that ' Mrs. Stowell had burst a small blood- vesdel from the eflfects of some great mental shock.' Would she die 1 I dare not ask, but he evidently saw the question in my face, for he immediately added, ' Everything depends upon perfect quiet; the least excite- ment might prove fatal. I think Mrs. Stowell had better be left entirely to the care of her old nurse for the present.' A hint for me not to go near her. The doctor evidently suspected some domestic row. I paced the library till midnight, pursued by a terrible contrition that seemed to crush me to the very earth. As I stole up to my O'^n room I found Leah's door open ; the curtains of the window opposite her bed were looped up, admitting a broad silvery moonbeam that lay across the bed and wreathed it about with the shadows of the ivy that trailed over the window. I stopped for a moment to tiy to attract Hagar's attention, but she was arranging Leah's pillows, and stood with her back towards me.' * Am I dying, Hagar X said Leah, drawing her arm feebly about the old womb's neck. ' Heaven knows, my darling,' said Hagar, fervently ; 'but the doctor says joxx must be very quiet.' ' If I die, don't let them take me away from Stowell, Hagar,' she said again. * Tell them I wished to be buried A NOVEL, BY POPPY BELL. 199 under the lilacs in the front lawn. I could not bear to be put away some place where uo one woiald ever come near me, excepting you, Hagar. I know you would come/ she said, kissing Hagar's hard brown cheek. * Yes, yes, everything will be done as you say, if you will only be quiet and not talk any more,' said Hagar in a hoarse voice. I wandered about from room to room for days, with the hourly dread of hearing that Leah's spirit had flown — that she had gone to another world and left me to carry the mark of Cain through the rest of my miserable existence, for I considered myself as truly her murderer as if I had pierced her heart with a dagger. But she did not die. The Great God was more merciful to me than I deserved. As she grew better they let me see her, and it is need- less to tell how passionately I devoted myself to her, or how unspeakably precious she became to me in those weeks that her life hung by a thread. In the gratitude of my heart for her recovery, I gave thousands to feed the hungry and shelter the houseless ; and as the doctors recommended change of aii', I sold Stowell, which had never been anything but a dreary prison to her, and took her across the bkie sea to Canada, where, with Hagar, who has long since relented towards me, we have found a home on the banks of the beautiful Lake Ontario." It was almost dark when Stella finished the manu- script; and, unheeding the tea bell, she and Poppy started over to Wildwave with it. They went round by the lake shore to avoid observation, but what was their surprise on coming suddenly on Mrs. Stowell and a tall Jewish- looking woman, whom they now knew to be Hagar, 200 A CORN LEA VEf,. strolling along the beach. Mrs. Stowell was singing softly to herself as she picked up the pebbles and threw them into the dark waves that washed in over the fla* rocks. They started back without attracting observation, and as they went towards the house in another direction, they saw Mr. StoweU going towards his wife with a shawl over his arm, which he wrapped lovingly about her, and drawing her hand through his arm, he led her slowly towards the house. " Now is your time," said Stella, starting in through ^he trees and giving a furious double knock at the hall door, which was answered immediately. " Here is some- thing that was picked up on the shore and I think it belongs here," said Stella, thrusting the manuscript into the servant's hand; and the next laoment the two were walking quickly away from Wildwa\e in the shadow of the trees. Poppy looked with redoubled interest at the Stowells the next Sunday in church, but has not yet commenced her novel. A CATCH, BY NELL GWYNiSIE. " Tra-la-la, Tra-la la-la !" hummed Mr. Tom Wake- field one frosty evening in January, as lie kicked the ice off his heels on the do. >scraper of a handsome little house in the suburbs of the town of Shoreton, Ontario, preparatory to making an evening call on Miss Cora Kuyter, who had the reputation of being the prettiest girl in Shoreton, He found her looking her lovliest, as she stood before the grate in a shimmering silk dress of a soft silvery hue, white kid gloves, and a white opera cloak, the hood of which was drawn partly over her graceful little head, and fastened with a spray of silver leaves, which had such a picturesque effect, that he could not choose but stand and admire it. Miss Ruyter was very sorry indeed, but she had made an engagement to attend a concert with Mr. Beverly, whom she was expecting every moment. Would Mr. Wakefield be so very kind as to excuse her 1 Oh, certainly; nothing would give him more pleasure, particularly as he had only intended making a short call. And in a few moments he took himself off, jostling against Mr. Beverly in the snow box, and walking very fast for some moments after he left the house. Mr. Wakefield was the most eligible match in Shoreton 18 202 ACORN LEAVES. — the ovly independenv young gentleman about to"^VTi, in fact — and he had been showing rather marked attention to Miss Cora Ruyterfor the last six months; but finding t'lat his affections were becoming ii-retrievably entangled, he said to himself one line morning, " It would be a catch for Cora, poor little thing, and I daresay she will feel dreadfully about it; but it woi^id never do for you, Tom, my boy — never," he repeated, apostrophizing the reflection of his handsome face in the looking-glass, and giving an extra twirl to his moustache. It happened on this pa.-ticular morning that Mr. Wakefield met Cora's father, who was a thriving mer- chant, and who for some, to him, imaccountable reason had always treated him coolly; now, however, he gave him a friendly smile and a nod. Mr. Wakefield took the alarm at once. " Old fellow thinks I am hooked, by Jingo ; but he will wake up to his mistake one of these days," he said complacently as he buttoned his overcoat under his chin. And without more ado he, as he expressed it, '^ shut down" on the Ruyters ; but as Coi-a did not, as he had expected, send him a little pink note begging to know how she had offended him, or as she did not take her constitutional walks in a direction she would meet him — quite by accident, of course — he had strolled up on this evening, which was about three weeks after the " shutting down" had taken place, just to see how she bore it ; but instead of finding her, as he had expected, sitting in a half-darkened room looking pale and dejected, he found her looking more lovely than he had ever seen her — waiting for that young pup Beverly to bring her to a concert. A CATCH, BY NELL QWYNNE. 203 Mr. "Wakefield retraced his steps down into the business part of the town, slackening his pace as he neared the brilliantly lighted window of Miss Monton's millineiy establishment, into which he peered curiously as he passed ; and after walking on a few paces, he wheeled about and entered the shop. " Such a man as you are, Mr. Wakefield ; you are always frightening me half to death," called out a sweet laughing voice from the midst of a shower of gay ribbons and flowei's, where Miss Arabella Linnet was seated deftly weaving a wreath out of artificial roses. Miss Linnet was a pretty, lively girl, full of coquettish airs and graces, who pleased Mr. Wakefield's fancy, and who in her turn felt gratified to have the wealthy Mr. Wake- field watching his opportunity, while Miss Monton was gone to tea, to pop in and chat with her two or three times a week, though she knew he only did it for amuse- ment. After leaving Miss Monton's, Mr. Wakefield bent his steps towards the opposite suburb of the town to that in which the Ruyters lived, walking quickly along till he came to a low stone cottage separated from the street by half a dozen yards of garden and a low paling, and which was the abode of Mrs. Weston, a widow lady, and her daughter Maggie, who was a music teacher, and who was considered by many to be prettier than Miss Ruyter. Mr. Wakefield had shown a great deal of attention to Miss Weston since he had " shut down" on the Ruyters ; in consequence of which her head had become a little turned, and she had shown the cold shoulder to young Frank Bevan, who was a clever young lawyer, and who 204 ACORN LEAVES. everybody knew was desperately in love with her. He was abont to knock at the door, when perceiving that there were no liglits in any of the windows, he turned away, observing to himself, " I suppose they have all gone to the concert." Finding himself again on the street, he seemed for a moment uncertain which way to turn, but finally walked on up the street till he came to a large stone mansion, which was the last hovise visible on the street, and which was the residence of Judge Blair, into which he turned ; and in a few minutes he was shaking hands with Miss Loo Blair, who was a tall, stylish girl with a quantity of waving yellow hair and with rather sharp features, and who received him very graciously indeed. Miss Blair chatted so agreeably and sang his favourite songs so charmingly, that he scarcely knew where he was till he heard the hall clock strike ehiven. " Beally I must be going; I had no idea it was so late," he said, starting up. " Why, it is not so very late," said Miss Blair, drawing aside the heavy window curtain to look out at the night; when she uttered an exclamation of surprise that brought him to her side in an instant. The snow was coming down in a sheet, and it was blowing furiously. " You can't possibly go home through that, Mr. Wakefield ; you will have to stay all night," she said decidedly. " Pooh ! I am not made of sugar," he said, stepping out into the hall to put on his coat ; but in the meantime Miss Blair stepped out of the room, reappearing in a few moments with her respectable papa, who decided the question by saying, " Nonsense, Wakefield, it would be madness for you to go out in such a storm ; you will have to stay all night." A CATCH, BY NELL OWYNNE. 205 And this was how it happened that as Maggie "Weston stood in the sunlight next morning, looking ruefully out at a huge bank of snow that blocked up the way between the door and the gate, the Blairs' slBigh came dashing up with a flashing of gay rugs and a chiming of silver bells, and Mr. Wakefield sprang out and lifted out little Maud Blair, who was one of Maggie's music pupils. Mr. Wakefield lifted his hat to Maggie just as a chickadee, that was pecking at the vine tendrils that hung over her head, sent a little shower of snow down among the ohining waves of her hair. Miss Blair called out from underneath the waves of white robes that foamed up about her " that it was very snowy." And then they all agreed that it was very snowy, and that it had been fearfully stormy the night before. Miss Blair asked Maggie if she had noticed what a number of snow-birds there had been about for the last few days, and Maggie said she had. After jumping Maud Blair over the snow bank, Mr. Wakefield again lifted his hat to Maggie, and then sprang back into the sleigh, which dashed off down the street, skimming like lightning past the now glittering snow banks that were piled up on each side of the way. " Did you pick Mr. Wakefield up on the street, Maiid?" asked Maggie, as she helped the little girl off with her scarlet cloth coat. " Oh, no ; he had to stay at our house all night, be- cause it w;as so stormy- He comes to see Looy, but she doesn't like him, though," said Maud, who was a noto- rious little chatterbox. " Doesn't she ?" said Maggie, a goo