The Republican journal., 1877-03-01

Hlhat uOated over here from ParlS, and
see no reason why you should accept it fol
the blessed truth any more than you dc
the thousand and one idle reports that are
always floating about. And, Harold, if
you really love her, why don't You tell
her so? Fred told me the moment he
found it out. But there | shant talk any
more; its no use"
ut is not" declared Harold, with en-
phasis; "ior unless, BY some unforeseen
turn in the wheel Of fortune, she becomes
as poor as myself, and | don't believe the
wheel contemplates any such turn. | shall
never speak Of love to Miss Alberta Lee =
Crude, obstinate, wretched bov'n scolds
the little sister Il wash my hands of you
Ii you insist upon being unhappy, be So
Not another word do you hear from me
Tonight for my breath is all frozen on my
veil. making it stiff and uncomfortable
and I've reason to think, notwithstanding
my promise to the contrary, my big
brother, I'm going to sneeZe.'
"My darling," cried the big brother,
fumbllng in his great coat pockets, I've
another sky, or moon, or cloud, or what
ever you call it, boughtit as came
| along for fear
"iar." interrupts Cora, solemnly, III
| you wrap another thing about me, even if
| it be the finest gossamer, | shall cease to
breathe;' and She twines the veil she had
| unloided about the lower part Of her face
again and relap 'es into silence.
'1lere she is-and time, | think, =" says
Harold, his blue eyes flashing with no less
pleasant light, as u laughing party ran
down the steps of the Lee mansion and
crowded into the empty sleigh. And,
thunder and Mars! that internal Dan an
Rensselaer, is at her side G'lang, Ned p
savagely. And away they all start, laugh
people sleigh-liding on Il fine moonlight
night. can laugh and sing and shout
An hours ride, and then stop of an
hour or two at an old-iashioned country
hotel-would there We're more OF them =
for a dance (the sole music for which was
furnished by q very old violin, played by
4 still Older darkey, who, the dance ended
proceeded to display his musical skill with
much rolling OF the eyes and stamping of
the right foot, by performing a compost
ton Of his own. the theme being the
"Queen Bees Visit to the Garden Of
Roses and the most noticeable point in
which was 4 'hum um um, commenced
pianlssimo, cresendo to totissimo and then
diminnendo until the Queen Bee flew away
again) and a supper.
AT the supper an enormous turkey pre-
sided, ilanked by crisp salads, broiled
qualla, and the various pies OF the country
but he, the turkey. didn't preside long for
he was soon reduced to much less than u
skeleton; and then the sleighs were
brought from the stable, and the heads of
the horses, the horses nothing 10th, turned
homeward; and the good natured land
lady and the red haired chamber-lnad,
and Dan Van Rensselaer, and his chums,
had all they could do in the way OF search
ing for articles oi wearing apparel, and
helping on jackets. and holding shawls
and cloaks. and tying wells, for at least
fifteen minutes
from the outside. ''iI you want to get to
on us; and down stairs they 60 pell-meIl,
helter-slelter, ana Jump and tumble, and
are lifted into the sleighs again.
Harold Brown grasps his own particular
charge from the group as they reached the
roadside, and carefully seated her in the
Sleigh heaps the heavy robes around her
and springs in himself
hundreds OF silver bells Jingle together
in pleasant discord; the Old darkev whose
Queen Bee has never extracted so much
honey with an m from the garden OF
roses before, filings his battered hat in the
air, and shouts, ''lIurrah :" and then sezes
his old violin and plays Hail, Columbia"
as though every note was soldier OF 1f16
and away they speed for home once more.
''ltoW lovely she looked tonight!n be-
gins Harold after :. five minutes silence.
~ on needn't speak toad. Alter that
warm room and The dance and the supper,
it is more necessary than ever that you
should be careful. All ask of you is to
listen. AS a llstenery ou can't be surpassed,
although as u taliser, like most women,
you are apt to get things Il little confused.
But don't 60 to sleep, tor that is an insult
| can't and won't stand. Did YOU ever
see such hair ?-spun gold And how
charming she wears it part in y wreath
free over her pretty shoulders. Blondes.
There's only one blonde in the world and
that's Alberta Lee Her skin is like the
snow with the moonlight on it; and being
beautiful because she is so tar, | suppose
it wouldn't be fair in me to ever dream
of her turning Brown. Hi, Ned. Good
heavens! the intelligent brute heard that
dreadful attempt at a Joke, and tried to
run away. 5000, old fellow! won't
do it again. And she never spoke to me,
Cora. And yet when we were boy and
girl together I've stolen many kiss from
her sweet red mouth unreproved, and she
used to call me ny Harold Let me see
that must nave been eight years ago.
And then, rs she grew older, she grew
more shy; but | was Harold still, often
'afn>' Harold until her father. who shows
what an idiot he is, in spite of his years,
by encouraging that greater idiot. Van
Rensselaer,. made that lucky hit in Wall
street and the whole family went abroad
to learn how to play the aristocrat to hum
bic friends at home It's true | didn't 90
near her tonight.
There We're too many around her. The
rose that all are praising is not the rose for
me- And the dance | should have liked
to have danced with her, the dance we
danced together in the long ago, she gave
to Louis Vance, the very man | came near
knocking down one evening at her house,
tor taking her picture from her album and
putting it in his breast pocket, with some
silly, spooney remark about his heart.
How her mother glared at me as snatched
it from his handi and she said with cool
drawl, Pray Ar. Brown, what is it to youg
Deuce take her lovely, exasperating. be-
witching impudence She we'll knew
what it was to me, the golden-haired, lily
white little hypocrite. suppose she'll
marry thai an Rensselaern-an he NUT
tered something which didn't sound like
blessing between his teeth--"or some of
his set. not one Of whom is worthy to hold
her fan, tine bonnie wee thing rs our old
Scotch nurse used to say" breaking off
with what in a woman we would call 4
hysterical Iaugh. 81 say, sis, are you
asleep? Iou needn't say u word, my
butterfly; just shake your head"
The worsted things and wells that formed
the butterily's cocoon moved slowly and
with difficulty from side to side.
'.All right. dear. feel as though l
must talk of her tonight, and to whom can
| talk but you, my darling little
sister, who has never withheld her love