Litchfield enquirer., 1874-07-23
THE mAJoR's M,sTAkE.

HE W4AJOk . WakS ANEs ''Dasii it I'll save her life !' said the
 major, suddenly.
 The major had just laid covering of snow-white lather on that tract of chin | which was still sacred from the incursions of his luxuriant beard. As he gave vent l to the remarkable resolution, he inativert- | ently wounded himself with the razor, so | as to compel resort to towel and cold sponging. which put an end to his refiec- tions for a time. Major Majoribank was an active, ,cleanly 1 built man, rather below the average
 height. He had an eye like hawks, l beautiful hair and whiskers, and no other striking features. His hands anl feet
 were small and finely formed, and front 1 tooth, which nature had taken from him,
 had been supplied by the hand of art. But life spent, as it were, in 0 success | sion of pitched battles, does not pass | without leaving marks of wear and tear, l and the major, after his third bottle of hair-dye, began to take very serious views | of life. Short and decisive were his ru-
 imitation, and with characteristic prompt l ness he determined on marriage as his
 next achievement.
 For this purpose he selected wife of l remarkable wealth and considerable per- | sonal attractions, and devoted himself to
 the sacrifice like O second Iphigenia-bar- l ring the sex.
 Perhaps it was the very difficulty of the achievement that impelled the dauntless
 less major to the attack. Diana Harford
 had already refused two baronets, bank
 CT. and four minor deities, before the ma- jor's appearance in the field, and still con tinued to ride across country with as much enthusiasm as if her whole life was l to be devoted to that occupation. Peo- pie began to say that she would never
 marry. ''The right man had not spoken, was the general opinion, and the major,
 as he gnawed h1s mustache. resolved. with
 an inward oath, that he would prove him.
 self that man or perish in the attempt. Not that the major was wholly devoid of that impractical machine called heart.
 Down in little villa near country yil-
 lage lived little lady of twenty, who
 could have told strange tales of the ma
 lor's sentimentality. Oh, major major |
 were not all your fiocks and herds suffi-
 cient, that you must needs make this in- nocent eve lamb a captive to your bow and spear?
 But let us do the major justice. In this matter he was not altogether free agent
 From the moment he met Patty Roseneath nc had felt himself fascinated by her in spite of all his attempts to persuade him. self to the contrary. That quiet, almost tlmld little provincial beauty, with gener- al alunsophisticatedness of tone and manner. should have the power to enchant the ma jor of a thousand fights seemed too ridic- ulOus to him to be entertained for mo- ment It did not occur to him that 1t was. perhaps, this very difference from the wo- man he had always been accustomed to fiirt with that constituted her charm.
 Reviewing the matter that morning i'll the solitude of his chamber. the major looked back on this love passage with a thankful sense of escape "I was very near making fool of myself that time" said the major to himself, as he tied his cravat.
 But, though the major congratulated himself on being so safely off the old love, he was far from feeling 80 comfortable with regard to his prospects with the new. He was too old campaigner to advance his main body without throwing out skir- mlshers and outposts, or make step in an dtdtrc de c0eur without feeling his way. It was this quality, backed by the major s real talents and powers, that made him so invincible. Women never suspect ed him of wishing to gain their affections until they found it was too late. And, when once the gates were opened, no one knew how to retain position in the con- quered city better than the major.
 But Miss Harford's seemed to be inn pregnable even to this experienced be- sieger. The major, who never comitted the error of over-rating his advantages, confessed to himself that he had all he knew. Had he not ridden as no man, not professionally accustomed to risk his neck, ever rode before? Had he not got up private theatricals (the major in "Used Up' was really worth seeing,) and even written a sparkling comedietta, agreed by every one but the major him. self to be equal, if not superior, to Rob- ertson? Had he not sung those tenor songs of his that would have charmed the sayageness out of a bear? And had he not thrown around all his achievements a halo of respectful sentiment, as who shall say, ''I care not for them except insomuch they are pleasing to you?"
 The major could find no fault with him. self or his exertions. He had attacked the fortress with all the paraphernalia of sapping and mining, ,ziezags and parellels, and still the flag of liberty foated mock ingly above the unconquered bastions. There was but one hope-a forlorn hope, he confessed to himself-and it was with serious, though determined spirit, that the major resolved on an attack by storm. He pronounced this resolution in the memorable words which commenced this story. "Dash it said the major. I'll save her life 1"
 The major had made up his mind.
 Perhaps, had the major known who it was that arrived as guest to Miss Har- ford on the previous evening, it might have disturbed his calculations. But there is no reason why we should not lis ten to the conversation of Diana and her guest as they sit by the bedroom fire in their elegant deshabitle.
 Miss Hartford was girl of considerable individuality of character. Without af- fecting any of the airs of ''blue," or an eccentric, she generally thought for her self on many subjects, and would state her opinion pretty strongly on occasion. This caused her to be regarded with suspicion and dislike by most of her own sex, and the weaker of ours. She was unusually, prudes said improperly, we'll read in Che drama of the last century, and actually preferred the school of Sheridan to the school of Schneider.
 "What have been doing lately?" says she in answer to question from her com panion. ''What am I always doing? Il have danced the usual proportion of dances, round and square; have ridden over the usual number of plowed fields. What more would you have of a woman in my position?"
 ''What queer girl you are. Di P says the other lady, wistfuIly. You never seemed the same as the other girls at school; and you don't seem bit altered. And so you haven't fallen in love yet? But I always said you would never find man to suit you exactly"
 'That's just what I'm wanting, my dear-a man. see plenty of amateur jockeys and polite letter-write-s. What I want is man-one that is not afraid to be natural, or ashamed to be in earnest. I really think our average dandy, with his cool self-sufficiency. and his insulting in- difference, the most unpleasant produc- finx. <,f %hn sc