The daily phoenix. [volume] (Columbia, S.C.) 1865-1878, 1866-12-19
COUSIN BEATr'S SECRET

1emlnlne,) had lett the dlnlng-roOm :;
SO Grew up my chair beside the open
window, elevated my feet into Sc
cond, and prepared to extract the
greatest amount of comfort, compati-
BILE with circumstances, from that
half-hour of post-prandial bereave-
ment, which is every mans privi-
lege.
And really circumstances just now
were not otherwise than conducive to
enjoyment. The soft-scented air of a
sweet summer evening rustled very
pleasantly through the wide open
window. The voices of the village
children at play, mellowed by dis
tance, came up, ever and anon, upon
its gentle breath; and, it must be
owned, a more delicately fragrant
glass Of Burgundy has seldom glad
dened the heart of man than that
which blushed beside my elbow on
the table now.
was, let me trust, in all apprecia-
tive and grateful frame of mind; but
yet, as I slipped my Burgundy and
lay back in my chair Watching the
tender evening light die away on the
distant trees, [ was conscious of a
want; for, after all, he is but churl
who can contentedly drink even the
glorious vintage of Burgundy alone.
''Man never is, but always to be
-" [ was beginning, when the
door opened.
''Mr. Mortimer, sir
.''Let us be thankful for small
mercies!" [ calculated instead. "Glad
to see you, JacAip Stevens, clean
glasses.
cam I the mercy?'' inquired
Jack, depositing himself leisurely in
the most comfortable chair at hand.
.'Not particularly small one, then,
I'm thinking, Frank
''Not small in any sense of the
word" answered I, pushing the Bur
gundy across the table; and really,
just now, in the vague half light,
Jack Mortimer's six feet three loomed
even unusually large and handsome.
No, Jack was certainly not small
mercy. We had been school-fellows
as boys, chums at college, the best of
friends always, though for the last
half-dozen years or SO parted by many
thousand miles of sea and land.
Even by this half-light something
indescribable in the set of nv old
friends ordinarily fashionable gar
ments-a something more indescrib-
able still in his whole bearing GER
tain large ease and freedom, as of q
man accustomed to an almost unli-
mited amount of space to turn him
self in, would have been suggestive
of one fact, [ think, to the most
casual observer-"Home from the
colonies" And home from the colo
MES it was
For the last five years Jack Morti-
mer had been enjoying life in the
bush. Not that in his case there had
existed the usual inducement for
viewing life under those delightfully."-
primitive aspects, for my friend had
occupied from his youth upwards,
that enviable position of heir to q
wealthy maiden aunt; but merely, as
it seemed, from natural and in
evitable tendency in his own nature
towards that simple and patriarchal
s ate Of things. There having been
no particular necessity for his pros
pering in the line Of life he had
adopted, prosper, OF course he did;
but few months back, in compliance
with the wishes of the maiden aunt,
who was getting on in years, and
craved, as she said, to see her boy
(which she would have called Jack if
he had been sixty. instead of we'll up
towards thirty, as he was) take up his
position in his native land before she
died, he had disposed of all his Aocks
and herds, and CAME back to settle
down as country gentleman and
landed proprietor.
L had not very long previously sue
ceeded to my own modest patrimony
of Meadowsleigh, and fatter myself
that that fact had some weight in the
selection made by Jack of a residence
the same being q queer, rambling
old house. with a valuable, but
certainly improbable property at-
tached, in my neighborhood, called
The Wild
Here Jack had been domiciled for
some months now, the head of u
curious bachelor establishment,
organized, L should say, on strictly
bush principles.
AS near neighbors, as well as old
friends, Jack and [ were accustomed
to exchange unceremonious visits at
all hours; so that after we had