The Lambertville record. [volume] (Lambertville, N.J.) 1872-1968, 1873-01-01

Walker was mum. Seymour's fate had APP
palled him, and, in fact, the entire mutinous
spirit of the scholars of Russian Bar was in a
fair way of being totally subdued.
When the trustees heard of the affair, they
unanimously commended the schoolmaster's
pluck.
81 tell you what, boys" said Perkins to a
crowd who were earnestly engaged at a game
of old sledge in his bar-room, ssthat Houghton
knows thing or two about managing boys.
He'll fix 'em off, or my name is not Perkins"
NEW PURSUIT.
Houghton wrs Hospitality treated by the
folks of Russian Bar. They felt him to be a
man of refinement, brought down in the world,
but showing no offensive superiority in his in
tercourse with them.
The doctors wife pronounced him to be the
gossips insinuated that Mrs. Blunt, the widow,
was setting her cap for him.
Gypsy Lane, the daughter of a leading man
in Russian Bar, and made wealthy by a saw
mill, which all day long groaned and screamed
some distance down the river, did not express
the Summer evenings, when the schoolmaster,
rod in hand, wandered along the stream, and
threw his line across the mill-dam, Gypsy was
seldom far away.
Lane, bluff, hearty old fellow, frequently
asked Houghton to spend the evening with
him. and told his adventures in early Califor-
mia to patient listener, while Gypsy mended
her fathers socks.
Mrs. Lane, when Gypsy was but baby, was
laid to rest in Lone Mountain, long before
Lane ever thought of settling at Russian Bar.
Seymour and Walker were the best and
most industrious pupils the young master had,
and were happy when accompanying him on
his excursions.
In fact, all agreed in declaring that the edu-
cational department in the village was a thirty
ing success.
One pleasant evening in June, Gypsy Lane,
twirling her straw hat, thoughtfully picked
her way across the broad fields that lay be-
tween her house and the mill.
The stream was q winding one, and as she
placed her tiny foot oh the first stepping-stone,
she saw straw hat on the grass which she
knew well.
elbow is Miss Lane this EVENING". said
Houghton, lazily, from beneath manzanita
bush, where he had been enjoying book and
a pipe.
"Well, thank you how is Mr. Houghton? !"
she replied.
"Warm, but not uncomfortable Arc you
going to the mill?n
eyes. have a letter that has just come
for father"
May accompany your
"Certainly, if you choose"
Houghton put on his hat and helped Gypsy
across the brook.
81 had letter from New York the other
day." said he, after they had left the first bend
of the river behind.
"a pleasant one?"
"Wen although in one sense it brought
good news, still | can hardly callit pleasant
letter.
They walked on, and Gypsy swung her hat
pensively, longing, with woman's curiosity,
to hear more about the New York letter.
81 am going to leave Russian Bar" said
Houghton, abruptly.
"Indeed, how soon?"
~ don't know yet possibly within week. !"
The hat was swayed from side to side with
increased energy.
"Do you care much, Miss Lane?"
This with an earnest look into the hazel
ground.
eyes; we shall all be sorry to lose you, )"
returned Gypsy, eyasively.
eff / come back i'm few months with
something for my future wife, shall sec this
ring on her finger?" whispered Houghton,
capturing the little hand that held the hat,
and slipping pearl ring on the delicate finger
Gypsy said nothing but her eyes turned foi
a moment on the schoolmaster's earnest face
and in the next her soft cheek was resting OF
his shoulder.
Russian Bar, to man, turned out to wish
Philip Houghton God-speed, on the morning
he took his place by the driver, who one yea
before had set him down at Perkins Hotel.
They knew he was OH his way to New York
and that he had been left some money ant
the gossips more than suspected that ther,
was something between Gypsy Lane and thei
favorite. AT all events her eyes were red foi
a week after his departure.
Winter had come and the river was swollel
and rapid, and many lofty tree from the PIN
forest had found his way to the hearths a
Russian Bar.
One delicious morning, crisp and cold, afte
nights rain, the stage passed by the large
white oak, and, splashed with mud, halted be
fore Perkins Hotel. 1t had been all night OF
the way, for the roads were very heavy. A
heavy hand was laid on the landlords shoul
der, and Philip Houghton shouted
perkins, old boy, how are you?'
u n
Six weeks afterwards the old mill was hung
with evergreen wreaths, and grand festival
was held at Russian Bar.
Gypsy Lane was lovely bride, and wher
Houghton took charge of the mill and in
vested all his New York money in the village
and was admitted to practice in the courts
everything seemed to take fresh start.
Through all, his warmest and most devoted
friend was Sam Seymour, once the terror 0
II i