The Republican journal. [volume] (Belfast, Me.) 1829-current, 1873-01-09

ers; but it came at last. and all the while
the words of Ned Ashleigh kept ringing
and ringing through the boys BRAIN
| Fifteen years had passed since that sum-
mer afternoon when Bessie Drew, cross
ing the stile, turned to gaze at the boy
| lying by the horse trough in the sunshine.
| This time it was midsummer night,
with unveiled faces OF stars away off in
| dark blue skies, and full moon amongst
them, holding her state, solemn and lonely
and beautiful, as moons have been from
the beginning.
Two men paced the deck of an ocean
steamer that summer midnight The YES
sci was one Of the finest and fastest of the
line. She had made an unusually rapid
voyage through the blandest OF days and
nights, and. in 4 couple more was every
prospect that she would come in sight of
land.
Now. all around the ocean opened its
great heart to the still. white passion Of the
moon; nothing possessed the sea but that
wide, silver glory, and in it the old. hoary
thing rested, hushed, transigured, holy
its pulses throbbing IN soft rapture. as
they had forgotten forever the call of the
| winds, and wrath of the storm.
Perhaps both OF those passengers pac-
| ing the deck, when all the rest had sought
their berths, thought something of this
sort, for they occasionally stood still, and
! gazed upon the night, or down on the en-
I tranced waves; yet the men evidently
| We're strangers, tor beyond touching
of hats, the merest formality, they never
| spoke to each other.
| They We're youngish men, both of them
If there were any difference OF years, you
would have been puzzled to say which
was the older.
| Yet these two were totally unlike in
| face and figure. One was tallish and
slender, with light colored, heavy beard
and an unmistakable air of a man of the
world. of culture and breeding, in his
looks and movements.
| The other was some inches shorter
and good deal stouter. He looked n
man which is something better than look
ing mere gentleman, after all. There
was something, too, sturdy, honest, self
| helpful about this passenger He had
| square, rather heavily moulded features,
| and pleasant, shrewd, gray eyes, and
| thick, reddish hair and beard.
| Well, there is no use going around the
| facts; one of these men was Ned Ash
| leigh, and the other Dick Hackett One
was returning from 4 long continental
| tour a little salted and disgusted with
| travel; and the other, from first busi
ness trip, out of which he had managed
to grip couple of days for Scotland, and
make Il breathless sort of visit to the
| Tower, and Hyde Park, and the British
| Museum
AS for Ned Ashleigh. all these years
had been years of travel, Of culture, Of
| dlettantelsm to the young man. He had
| lonnged and luXuriated most elegantly
| along the summer gardens of his life. He
I had been q graceful tigure--it would be
| fair to say nothing more than that, with
| his passion for art. with his ;cthetic cul-
| ture, with his delight in study, with his
| fine social gifts.
But alter all, when you come to the
heart and core OF the matter what had
| this man, Ned Ashleigh, been making of
his lfe-what work had he done-what
! good had he achieved in this world, where
the eternal powers set him for some task
which he was TO find out and see that he
accomplished
He had no aim in life, except the rather
| ignoble one of enjoying himself, grace
| ful. intellectual forms, it is true, but
| with all his fine, critical tastes and his cul-
| ture and ideals, self was the pivot on
which all his actions turned and this
| seliishness was slowly cOrrOdng his heart
and soul
| He showed this in relations with women,
| with one woman especially, whom he still
| thought more of than OF all the rest Of her
sex-and that was Bessie Drew. In all
| these years the girl had not married Ned
Ashleigh, in his secret soul. knew the
| reason why; it would have smote his
heart with a terrible pang had she done
| so; yet, he was SO indOlcnt and he
| loved his own freedom so well. thai he al
| lowed the one woman of his hearts elec-
| ton to waste away the fragrance OF her
| beautiful youth without making her his
wife. Not that Bessie Drew was one of
| the moping, melancholy Mariana type
| Of heroines, not she! She had blossomed
| into a fine and gracious womanhood, and
the sweet face held still all the charm of
| its girhood for women like Bessie Drew
| do not grow old early
| But Ned Ashleigh had been the love
and ideal of the girls young heart, and it
| was a loyal one. The two We're the best
Of friends corresponded often during
| their long abscnces-and the thought of
Bessie DreW's welcome home was per-
haps the keenest Joy to which Ned Ash
leigh was looking forward on his return
| to his native shores; but he was hy no
| means positive that their mutua! relations
would be changed by any act Of his. This
| uncertainty was 4 cruel wrong to Ned
Asheigh's better self-a crneler one to
her who had guarded her precious secret
all these years with woman's pride and
| reticence. Yet Ned Ashleigh plumed
himself on his high honor, onh is lofty
ideals. on life unsoiled before God and
| man.
Dick Hackett, pacing the deck that sum-
mer midnight, glanced up occasionally at
| the tall, handsome stranger when the two
crossed each other, and the moonlight
struck full upon them. and suddenly he
| said to himself: 81 have seen that face
| before-1 am sure of it,
Three or four times afterward Dick
Hackett glanced little curiously at the
face of his companion, when it came within
his range, and then, all of 4 sudden, the
whole thing broke upon him-the sum-
| mers afternoon, the wide, warm brown
| air, the hum of insects, and the face of
| the girl, as it turned on the stile to gaze
| at him; he saw the smile in the brown
eyes, and the flush of the sunset in the
| brown luster of the hair.
The hour had stuck in Dick Hackett's
| life at that moment. No question that
his native forces and energies would
sooner or later, have made something out
of the ragged, half starved boy catching
| flies by the horse trough that summer
afternoon, but the talk of those few
minutes had changed his whole life That
! old question Of Ned Ashleigh's: "What
is he to do with himself-what is he to
make of his life ?" echoed perpetualv
| through Dick Hackett's soul, and stung
and spulred him, and would give him no
| rest
Well, he had had a tug of it, only God
and himself would ever just know how
hard. First, it was the fight for bread,
and some kind of standing room in the
world; and then to make something Of
| himself; to come out of ignorance, awk-
wardnessand general be orishness in which
| his hard fortune had buried him from the
| beginning. Fifteen years, and the re-
Su1ts told for thamSalvas Sta,, Inv eta