The Camden journal. [volume] (Camden, S.C.) 1866-1891, 1878-12-19

think of the weather. And the soil ii
the most fertile in the world
! PITY it is such an out of.the-wal
part of the earth that no body can liv'
there said Miss Armour.
beg your pardon, miss; there ar:
several English towns Of thirty thousans
inhabitants each, and we never think O
ourselves as being out-of-the-way, bu
rather feel sorry for those who live 81
far off, returned the other, bending hi
tall figure earnestly forward.
Rosa leaned her pretty hand towards
him in con6ding attitude Of interest
and laughed. ..
'Ob, so you are the people, and wis
dom is going to die with you,' said she
'But what do you do out there in the
heart of the universe p -
'We dig gold for one thing, and raise
sheep for auother-millioDs and millions
of them. From thirty to forty vessels are
constantly plying to England with the
tallow and pressed WOOL -
'What do you do wei all that NUT.
ton p asked Rosa, looking idly at the
light in the speakers eyes. q
s 'We use what we can,' was the reply,
and sometimes, I am sorry to say, We
bury the fesb-uot usually; but some;
times an order. will come to one farmer
for thousand sheep,!if you please; and
all he can do is to clip of the wool. get
out the fat and bury the carcasses.' =
Just then along came tho ships sur.
eeon, blonde youth in uniform, with
his hair parted in the middle. >
sMiss Armour said he, 'the gun is to
be fred, off at the bow; will you come
and see it done p
7 Miss Armour started upat once turn.
ing the same half confding glance and
ready smile upon him she had been Civ
ing US. =
Z am going to leave my rug with you;
| shall come back, said she, beamiDg
over hershoulder upon me as she took
the surgeon s arm and went away.
The New zealander looked after her,
tried to console himself by drawing his
wrap in another fold across his knees,
did not succeed, and finally got up and
went away. OF course it was not worth
his while to make himself agreeable to a
middle-aged woman in hood and water
proof. So I sat and looked at the Ike.
ness of a lake among the clouds. and
tried TO decide whether I had better
take oat meal Cruel or biscuit tea for my
supper; wondering the while, half un-
consciously, about the old chord in my
memory that was always being struck by
certain. musical ring in the New zea-
lanaer's voice.
ltfAter uu hour or Go tho gun WOO
fired; aud presently Miss Armour came
back, with the disorder Of the strong
sea-wind in her hair, and its freshness
in her pretty pink cheeks.
I've come as said,' she murmured,
dropping at nay feet again, and smiling
up, as though she had got where she
best loved to be, just such smile as she
would have given to the stokers down
in the engine room, or to the ships cat.
! But it was lovely to look upon while it
lasted; and we middlc-ased people have
learned to warm ourselves in any chance
ray of sunlight, without stopping to
consider whether it is likely to be per-
pe,ual,
This time the bit of sunshine did not
stay long forthere came up an artist
with his sketch book; and when MISS
Armour had sufficiently admired his
graphic pencilings of the captain and
the quartermaster. and the seasick occu-
! pant of the upper berth, it was time 10
throw the lead; and so he bore her OFT,
to find out with her own eyes whether
we we're actually soing at the rate OF
thirteen knots, or only twelve andsa
half.
That was how the days went. The
passengers read and paced the deck,
played games and guessed riddles, and
we're always hungry; the pilot stood
steady and firm at the wheel; the sailors
ran up and down about the rigging like
overgrown spiders, and were forever
securing and scrubbing, tying and un'
tying, drawing up and letting down
| Thus at last we had come safely almost
to our desired haven; with fair sailing
we were just one day out from port, and
fond as We had been of each other, we
we're getting impatient to part. =
Miss Armour, during the whole voy'
age, had kept on as she began, begull'
ing every one with her trick of lip and
0ye. They ran after her like boys a.
the string of kite. Well, they had
nothing better to do just then; and
when she had faded out as the rainbow
fades, I had no doubt she would be q:
easily forgotten, or only as a midsum
mer's day dream, by all, unless it nigh
be solitary warm-hearted man lik'
the New Zealander. To tell the truth
I was a little sorry for him. Evidently
life had not brought him all it might
and he wac hungry for the love ane
confidence that had never been his. s.
] was afraid he would miss the littl
sparkle Of girlhood and warm youth
and find the void deeper when it hae
gone out.
To the very last day. Rosa kept he
place by my chair; and to the very las
the New Zealander kept his place b,
her, when no one younger stepped in It