New Orleans Republican. [volume] (New Orleans, La) 1867-1878, 1876-08-27

remembertmuch about it. I've not been there
since / was y0ungeter."
Flori0 shrugged his shoulders and smiled
with that gravely courteous air of his which
implied that al places were alike to him,
provided they were but pleasing or con-
venient to his master.
But in plain truth it was somewhat incOn'
venient to Benoni to be carried away thus
suddenly from the metropolis. He, too, had
lived his life, and coufted the blind goddess,
and had his schemes and speculatiOne, and
| tanglements. 1t was awkward in the ex-
IRENE to have his London life thus brought
to q close-snapped short OF like thread
cut by the fatal shears.
Sir Jasper Lydford was gentleman OF
warm temper and great energy-prone
to sudden impulses and uncOnsidered &C.
tions. No sooner had he made up his mind
to 20 down to Somersetshire than he was
| eager to start.
sTell them to get post horses for my
travelling chariot" no said, while BenOni
WAS curling and pOwdering him. ~ burn
TO see the old place again. dresry as il
as graveyard-all the pretty women gone
to Tunbridge or Bath"
| CHAPTER u.-AT HIS GATES.
The journey into Somersetshire was long
and fatiguing, though the road lay through
4 WIZ
Great Bath road, famous for it's danger
from gentlemen of the Dick Turpin breed.
Sir Jasper lOlled in his chariot and tossed
| over the papers, and yawned little over
the last volume of fashionable poetry-the
mildest dilutiOn of Pope and Gay-and
slept good deal, and caressed Sebastian.
1t was fine dry weather, which promised
| we'll for the harvest, but was somewhat ex-
hausrive for humanity.
/ opNurad a heat and fafiurQ Of
the journey with an admirable patience.
He stared out of the window, with his big
tongue hanging languidly ont of one side
Of his mouth and his great brown eyes con-
| templative of the landscape. He slept even
more than his master. He prowled about
the yards of the fine old inns where they
| stopped to eat or sleep, and, so long as he
| supremely happy.
The longest journey must end at last, and
| after lying at inns three nights and travel
| ing for four long summer days-stoppiDg to
| see an old church or . noted mansion now
and then--Sir Jasper's chariot drove
through the gates of his own domain.
The gates were opened by the lodge
keepers daughter-a tall girl, with bright
chestnut hair, brown eyes. and . milk
white complexion, powdered with freckles.
The sight Of this dsmsel recalled q little
bit of family history to Sir Jasper's mind.
Thirty years ago his father, Sir Everard,
had given the lodge and an acre OF garden
adjoining it to Q poor relation of his own
q. bOokish man, who had done we'll ut Ok
ford, but nowhere else in the world, and
had been at very low water, when his die.
tant kineman, Sir Everard LydfOrd offered
him temporary shelter.
There's the lodge" said Sir Eversrd. 1T
was once dower-house, but part was pull
ed down in Queen Anne's time. There's Q
good garden, and 'tis q r0Omy cottage even
now. You can keep lad to open the gates,
and you may have a. much fruit and vege-
tables, and milk and butter and eggs o. you
like from the farm. This may serve while
Won look about You for fresh start in
life"
This humble shelter the poor scholar had
brought q big chest OF books and very
small trunk of clothes to the cottage at the
gates of LydtOrd Manor. These were all
his earthly goods. Sir Everard's house
keeper put in some old furniture which had
been perishirg in lofts and lumber rooms,
and the scholar, who had taste and handi.
ness as we'll as book learning, soon dressed
up and adorned his modest dwelling. He
made it 80 pretty that the lodge was the
admiration of most visitors who came to
the manor. But that fresh start in life
which Sir Everard had talked Of never
came. His poor kinsman was too happy at
LydfOrd with his books and his roses to
care for doing battle with adverse fate.
He asked Sir Everard for permission to
live and die there, and Sir Everard granted
the boon with all his heart. His kinsman
was modest, and asked for nothing more
than had been offered in the first instance.
All the servants on the estate adOred him.
They had never known SO perfect gentle |
man. So lite went on, without q ripple, for |
about ten years; and then the poor scholar |
fell in love, and asked his kinsmans per.
mission to marry-0r, rather, to remain at |
the lodge after his marriage, having quite |
made up his mind to take q wife.
Sir Everard said yee, and wanted to make |
him present of UNDERGROUND bank |
bill. But the scholar refused with gentle |
dignity.
and pleasant one. II will never impose
upon your generosity. earn Q little money |
BY translations and revisions-quite enough
for my wants."
"B1t q wife will be different" suggested
Sir Eversrd; ''she will have different no.
lions of life"
my wife will be my second self, and will /
be happy in the simple life that pleases /
me-" answered Mr.. Dorillon, with conf.
1ence.
The young lady he married was the
,urates daughter, who had been reared ON
he nsrrowest means, and had one of those
,weet natures to which worldly wealth
'eems but drOes when weighted against af.
lection. She came to the scholars cottage
= it'll a. much delight a. if she had been led
lone to palace, and besutitied and glOri.
led his life for two short years ere enviOus
leath snatched her from his side.
Dark was the gloom of the years that fol-
owed that bitter parting. For little
In h. l>1o I'D ]
anne . time of duh despair, sense of
ching misery-days that brought no COM
that knew no rest. The pretty
Ottage was neglected; the bright parasites
hat mantled its walls grew wild and over
an the thasched r00f-the roses were un-
AIRED for. But God is merciful, and time
mighty healer. One day Stephen Doril
IN awakened to the knowledge that he had
lovely and loving child yearning for his
lOtherless girl, and she became dear as her
lOther had been to him. He took comfort,
nd his days resumed their placid course;
ne old flavor came back to the books he |
wed; and the gray-haired student, aged
lore by sorrow than by time, was able to
IT up his voice with Job in his affection ..
I'D say: 1.-The Lord gave, and the Lord
ath taken away; blessed be the name Of ,
le Lord"
The memory of this friendly story flashed
pom Sir Jasper as he drove past the old !,
slf-tim bered cottage, covered with roses
nd myrtle, honey suckle and iessamine, |
he roses were cared for now. and made | :
!sze Of bloom on the old rough-cast wall. I
here were bird cages in the open case
ents, birds singing, butterflies ekimminp !!
bout in the sunny forecourt. Sebastian ]
ut his head ont of the window and gave =
yous bark, as if he saluted the pretty PIC =
ire.
"Can that fine girl be old Dorillon's Z
sughter2' wondered Sir Jasper, putting a
, his glass and looking back ct the fair '