The new Northwest. [volume] (Portland, Or.) 1871-1887, 1877-04-27

ture, and yet, city-bred, had never be-
fore seen nature in this glorious revela-
tion of fautumnal beauty, and it dawned
upon her like the reading Of some new
and beautiful poem.
"Strange that there are people content
to live in the city, when the country is
so beautifulp' she thought, one even
ing, as, standing knee-deep in ferns, be-
meath a canopy of crimson and gold foli-
age, she gazed in dreamy delight over
the lovely scene before her.
A rustling in a neighboring thicket
startled her. There was a sudden shot,
whirring past of brood of partridges,
and the next moment a dog rushed
forth, deliberately followed by gentle
man in gray shooting dress.
As his eye fell upon the young girl,
standing in a graceful, half-startled
manner, he lifted his cap cOurteously.
81 hope that have not alarmed you,"
he said. 81 should not have fired had
known that lady was near"
The dog bounded back with a dead
partridge, which he dropped at his mas
ter's feet.
Alice took 1t up gently.
'Poor little thing! 1t was cruel to kill
it!' she said, pityingly, as she lifted her
y
passion, to the face of the stranger.
He smiled-a curious smile, in which
appeared both interest and amusement.
"Then I am sorry that should have
killed it, and, in penance, will not fire
another shot to-day"
81 have no right to require that sacri-
fee of yOu," she answered, shyly, as
she turned away.
But he again addressed her:
at appears that our pathways lie in
the same direction. If you are going to
Mrs. Curtis, will you permit me to ac-
company you? The lady is an old friend
of mine, and I was on my way to see
her. 1t was for her that I intended
these birds"
81 am staying at my Aunt Curtis, !"
she answered, land, in consideration of
the motive, L forgive your shooting
these poor birds"
They walked, in the lingering sunset,
slowly along the lonely wood-path that
led to the old farmhouse, pausing a mo-
ment on the brow of the eminence that
overlooked it, as it lay like a brown
birds nest, embowered in trees in the
meadows below.
"Time has forgotten this little nook, "
remarked the gentleman. at is as un-
changed now as l remember it fifteen
years ago."
"You do not reside in this neighbor-
hood, then ?"
mo. My home is in the Sunny
South; but, when boy, l used to be a
frequent visitor to this neighborhOod
Perhaps ! ought to introduce myself
am Philip Warrington, of B, and
nephew of DR.. Gray"
vuao har A CurtiSi nh /.
clan, and resided on the next farm; but
it was the name of her companion that
now attracted Alice's attention. She
had become familiar with it from Char
lies letters, and she said, impulsively:
"You have Just returned from Europe
Then you are my Cousin Charlie Sut.
toms friend, of whom lie so often wrote?''
1t seemed a pleasant mutual discov.
cry; and the two were no longer stran'
gers.
Aunt Curtis was delighted to see
i'Phil." He had grown so wonderfully
she said-quite big boy.
And she related many bold bOyish ad-
ventures of his, in the old time, thai
seemed so long past to him, so short tC
her. Finally she insisted that, as be
had had long walk, he should "stay
to SUPPER" and he, apparently nothing
10th, accepted the invitation.
There is no place on earth excepting
perhaps on shipOoard) where two young
persons thrown together are so apt tC
fall mutually in love as in a quiet house
in the country. Certainly, in this in
stance, the being "thrown together
was not entirely accidental, since Mr.
: Philip Warrington, in his interest il
the old lady, every day found something
to bring him to Copley.
Now it was to bring her new paper
or message from the doctor; then tt
read to her some very interesting eX
tracts from new book; and then agair
to offer larks or partridges, forgetful o
the cruelty of shooting them.
And in the soft, rich and dreamy Oc
tober evenings, he and Alice, strollinl
, in the old-fashioned garden, or dowI
the lane, rich in autumnal flowers, o
, seated on the meadow stile, beneath
the golden marles, spent such hours o
happiness as can come to US but once il
life-time-with the first dream o
J dawning love.
And so it came to pass that Mrs. Sut
ton, anxiously waiting at home, ant
still taxing her ingenuity for excuses t,
; keep her niece tout of the way" sud
: denly heard something which sent he
| flying up to Copley Farm by the mex
t days train, in a mood of mind by N
] means enviable.
=. And the first person she saw, OIL
reaching Copley, was Alice, standing
s on the old-fashiOned "stoop," canopie,
D by autumn roses, with a remarkabl,
t handsome, and elegaut-looking younj
, man by her side, the attitude and ex
preston of both revealing at singl
e glance what Mrs. Sutton felt to be
t death-blOw to all her scheming an
= hopes. She had aimed we'll; but, as
. the case with even the most cleve
, schemers, had strained too hard, an
!. overshot the mark.