Wood County reporter. [volume] (Grand Rapids [i.e. Wisconsin Rapids], Wis.) 1857-1923, 1864-04-21

unconscious shaft sbiTered Philip. This
eternal din of sister or brother perplexed
him; the heavy odors, the binding brillian-
cy, the color, the fash Of eyes and Jewels,
IN this Countess saloon, made his brain gid
dy. He was out of himself, and answered,
with dreamy boldness, q Slgnora, you mis-
take; she Is not my sister" 1t was his
thought that took voice; he knew not that
he had spoken till the astonished faces re-
fected his words, as in so many magnifying
mirrors At dusk next day the Englishman
desired a conference with Philip Arne He
spoke with all the disdainful assumption of
his nation.
Allow me to demand, said he, g the cir
cumstances OF your competition with this
young lady, whom You have represented as
your sister" -.afs E--t- .sa
Upon what ground? ?" as arrogantly ques-
Toned Philip.
Upon that OF sutton who scorns to ally
his ancient blood with disgrace p This Graf
tan, who wore only a form like gods sus-
pected Philip Arne, whose soul was panoplied
with the purity of very god There was no
escape. 'Then you shall hear" said Philip,
coldly calm. Strange she had not told me
OF this" he murmured, dreamily ''true, l
remember, she sent for me to-day, but | was
| too i'll TO go; all this day have not seen
her 1t was well to have begun the test
Yes, you shall hear. She was such a tiny
! thing-the night was so chilly, and she lay in
doorway when found and took her to my
| garnet. | was poor then, Mr. Grattan, and
only twenty. 1 have kept her ever since
| Her mother had left her to find a bite of
bread: she never returned. l called her sis
| ter Saint, to shield her youth. Nothing"
Enough" interrupted Grattan, ''your
oaths are not worthy an appoggiatura. l be-
! lieve you are parcel of knaVes I rein-
quish all claim to your beggar girl. As for
yourself, you may challenge if YOU please"
81 certainly shall not please"
As the Countess had said, Saint was to
ing that night; when therefore Philip, sad,
neart-aching Philip, went to conduct her she
met him at the door, whole heaven in her
countenance-laughing eyes, smiling mouth.
! Joy in every shifting expression. Does not
Joy or sorrow make US unobservant-yeil us
with rays? 1t seems to me that the calm,
xnrufled hearts note faithfulest, see earliest
the inverted sunshine, or the prophetic prom
Use after storms of their neighbours hearts, or
else surely Saint had detected the subtle
sadness OF his demeanor There was no time
for words, he had delayed her so long in or
der to gain composure, she could only say to
| him, while assisting her to the carriage:
Naughty Philip, couldn't you have postpon-
ed your indispostion that might have told
you of my disposition? How little you know,
Sir, what you've missed Dear Philip kind
brother" Dear httie Saint he said, shut
Fting the carriage-door, Tomorrow"
Oh, Philip Arne, there is long and bright
tomorrow waiting for you But he could
not break her pretty bubble tonight, though
the pretty thing so baked him. The house
was crowded, every square inch of space
Haunted plumes and diamonds, and gittering
faces; as she appeared it was thought bit
Of swans down had been blown down before
the foot-lghts and oscillated there upon the
| blast of applause that it encountered-so
petite, so exquisite, so shining, yet full of
such magnificent power, all felt spelled,
speeches., and awed, as though gazing upon
a mirage-an unreality. Silence fell like
pail about them till silvery sweet her song
cleft it and scared into the empyrean of mel
| ody; now it rippled and tOyed with careless
| grace, glided forward returned-like a but
terfy 10th to leave the dear blossom it may
never find again-pirouetted a second in
mid-air then hoated in fullest, grandest reson-
ance from sweetness, to gladness from glad
ness to an eternity of joy. Ladies held their
breath, bent toward her, drawn by her cleo
tric wand; men of the world, who had squan-
| dered life and innocence without a sigh
heard the invitation of angelic choirs " saw
distant gates of Eden gleam; /" felt with the
unbounded misery of the rich man tortured
with glimpse of Paradise, how miraculously
| beautiful was holiness. Well might thev at
tune their souls to this spirituality of harmo-
ny, it was the last strain of Saints they
would ever hear till in heaven she joins the
| Jubilee For, look you, fingers of flame are
clutching at her Notwithstanding, clam
bering, racing, they multiply around her,
play with the ribbons of her hair, catch at
the hanging of the stage, and wrap all in I'M
distinguishable terror She had seen them
as they leaped from her feet and confronted
her paralyzed with fear, unable to cry out,
she felt herself smothered in wooden and lift
| ed away from Death and Destruction And
whispered, 81 knew you would save me, Ar
| thur !" she raised her head from its pillows
| only to behold the living love in the dead
pallid face of Philip Arne-there, where he
had fallen close beside her, half resting on
| the same cushions.
Every one said he died from inhaling flame.
And suppose he did, you know how it came
about
There stood long in Florence stately man
| sion, sculptured and splendid with gardens
| swathing it on every side save that where the
! river went singing by if one in boat float
| ed lazily below it at every window they would
| see cherub faces clustering, hear laughter and
| song, and prehaps the sacred and disfgured
| phantom OF that memorial night; Saint Ann,
| the children call her still the mute cantatrice
| And beyond from the bosom of foliage and
| flowers, springs the white cross that marks
Philip Arne's grave and breaks the sunshine
| into thousand smiles!
For years Saint Ann taught children, poor
| homeless children, to sing took them into
| her heart as Philip Arne had taken her, and
| dying divided her fortune among them. So
now at lovely Florence they show you two
| small homegrown graves and an old Devil
| dered violin. This is Ariel
MAcAULAYs CONVERSATIONAL POWER
There is a common impression that in society
he was engrossing and overpowering. Every
one who has heard the witty saying of his old
friend (no two men could appreciate each 9th
er more highly and JUSTIFY about " flashes of
silence" But in the quiet intercourse with
| the single friend, no greater talker was more
| free, easy, and genial, than Macaulay. There
| was the most equal Interchange of thought
he listened with as much courtesy as he spoke
with gentle and pleasant responsiveness. In
a larger circle, such as he delighted to meet
and assemble round him to the close of his
life, a few chosen intimates, some accomplish
ed ladies, foreigners of the highest distinction,
who were eager to make his acquaintance,
4