Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1878-06-08
A RIVER STORY.
From CAssen's Magazine.


fl ends successful Journals s. my efforts wera
not doomed to that disappointment which
awaits The vast majority of young men aud
women, who are tempted by some early m Iga-
zine acceptance to engage in that great, never
ending competitive examination, comprised in
The eLdeavoT TO earn living out of periodical
literature, and L got as much occupation for
my pen as could perform without neglecting
my legal studies and prospects. Among other
plcklngS, earned guinea week for an arti-
Gle i'll the Blank RerieU. O>ten<ibly it was the
review of a book. but in reality the said book
was the excuse or text for an essay which was
intended to he witty. but was too often. lear
merely tipPant.
Il do not care for dull account of the book
you review: all want is a paper" said the
editor. And did my best.
One of my most facetiOuS papers remem
Der, was written aprOpOS of "a little volume OF
poems issued in the orthodox green cover.
and entitled Echoes of the Hear" by Dora.
| did not take the trOu bic TO read them, but
just dipped in here and there without even
cutting the leaves, to get points for funny
copy" / found one couplet for example, in
which girl was made to rhyme with curl, where
upon spelled girl, CURL, throughout the arti-
Gle. cal ed Dora" a CURL, drew an i'm igina-
ry picture of her as gushing young thing of
thumb, and suggested that her proper occupa-
ton was the artistic cooking OF sleeps heart.
rather than writing nonsense about the echoes
of her OWN. | inquired how heart can hav
an echo, and inSinnated that the Curl of tn
EchOng Heart must be ventrilOquiSt with
great deal more flippant stuff of the same kind,
u
against pOetaSters of both sexes, and the pub
fishers who print their effuSiOn: a disgratefu
article which was exactly to the taste OF the
nil ddnlirari class, from which the readers of
the Blank RerielC were principally recruited
1t was during this early period of my career,
and at the season when London is dulleSt, thai
| met my old college friend Sinclair in the
Strand and naturally asked what brought him
to town in the autumn.
II have been ordering dOg-cart in Long
Acre, he replied; but why are you not out
Il have nowhere particularly to 90 TO, and
no one 10 go with me, As has been often said,
London, when empty, has more people in it
tnan any other pace has when full said |.
Besides if | went out | should be paying for
my empty cham bers all the time as well as for
my temporary lodgings
a man world OF good. And you can afford
it: you have made start, and expect both
ends meet, eh?"
Yes, but am waiting till they overlap be
fore indulge i'll luXurieS.n
Look here" said Sinclair, after a pause, 81
wish You would come back with NE to Aitchim
this evening"
You live at Aitcham now?'
Yes, have taken furnished house there
till the endo September. Rather "a pretty place
on the banks OF the Thames: lawn SlOping to
the edge of the river; perch and pike, they
say have never caught any: boat house aud
all that. My wife took a fancy to The place,
ard ii is just the same to me as any other until
the hunting begins
rs il far?''
"Oh, no, near FangbOurne: we shall run
down in a coupe of hours. Ii is not any con
piimcnt to ask you, / own, for we are mon
strCuS dull. But You have as good as owned
that you have nothing to keep you in London,
would come and take an oar
Take an oar?
Eyes: am rather tired of sculling those two
about every afternoon by myself Some of the
girls in the neighbOrhOOd have taken to rowing
themselves, and letting their husbands, broth
ers, &c, steer, but my Womenf folk don't seem
to see it,"
You speak in the plural
Yes; my, wife, you know, must have some
one TO speak to-
''She has you"
perience. Why, we have been married nearly
TWO years! l can't talk of furbelOws, and my
wife can't talk OF hunting: She wants another
woman to talk to and so Miss Filmer is staying
with us. And want man to talk to, and you
will be he, won't you? There is a quiet little
room opening out into the garden, where you
shall do any reading and writing you want
undisturbed all the morning. Come
He led me to my chambers, made me pack
my pOTtmanteau, and had me down to the sta
ton and in railway carriage almost before |
bad quite made up my mind whether l would
You have not forgotten how to row, have
you? he asked, as we rushed through the
mo, ] fancy not but I'm not in the condi
ton ! was when we TOwed in our first boa
during the MAY races What time do You dine,
. I'VE never dine
No We breakfast and lunch, and go on the
water when the latter meal has been digeSted
and come back to a cold spread when We have
had enough mist and moonlight 1t is veryrO-
mantle, assure YOU
No doubt" said l. thinking that l would
have pressing engagement to tear me back
to town very soon. "Do you know what night
mare ISL"
Not very well; saw picture of one once
in an old almanac think"
The clutch OF the metropolis is never shaken
OFF while you remain in the railway carriage
streets still sings in your ears for several min
utes after you have left the STATION,
We had almost reached Sinclair villa before
the sweet odors of grass and flowers, got fair
hold of my senses, or the strange stiffness of
everything ceased to confuse me.
1t was delicious place, the house was white
and hOneysuckle, and shaded on three sides by
a broad veranda, upon which the French win
dOws of the sitting room opened. The stables
and kitchen were out of sight and smell some
where; the lawn was cool with trees, and the
tom of it.
A lady sat in a cane camp chair in the veran-
da,reading the paper she heard our voices and
rose, and was introduced to Mrs. Sinclair. My
friend had made good selection; she was
handsome, welldressed, courteous, hospitable,
without knowing it. By which, as cannot real
peoples hearts, | of course mean that she gave
one the impression of not knowing iG. She
GaIneT pdITOnlZtQ HE dS DelnS DtnlGnIou
bachelor, after the manner of matrOnS Of
twenty.
1t was about five o clock in the afternoon,
and she wanted to have dinner for me in a
couple of hours, but of course, / would not let
them alter their domestic arrangements, so
had light snack then and there after which
declared my readiness to take to the water.
Passing out on to the lawn, accordingly |
found another lady with Mrs Sinclair. and was
made acquainted with Miss Filmer. a quite
retiring little girl, rather nice looking when
you came to notice her particularly, which one
might very wellneglect doing when there were
several other girls present. Mrs. Sinclair called
her Daisy, and most appropriate name it was
for her. The bOat-hOuse which was also ar
ranged as convenient bath-hOuSe, giving
promise Of an early plunge next morning, con-
tanned an Outrlgger,a canoe and Skiff. The lat
ter, which was afOat and only fastened by
paddock, was lOoSened; the ladies seated them
selves in the stern, Mrs Sinclair taking the TIL
Ter, and as her husband remembered that 1
had rOwed on the strOke-side at the University
/ was placed on the after-thwart, in easy con-
verSatlonal contact with them. When Sinclair
wanted TO join in the talk he had to raise his
voice and to demand the repetition of any
laughter causing observation with whats
THAR"
had not rowed for some time and my hands
were rather tender, but took it easy and
saved them.
1t was a calm and glowing evening, the
scenery was that which / like best the con-