The true northerner. [volume] (Paw Paw, Mich.) 1855-1920, 1878-08-30
THE TWO BACHELORS.
PART 1.

1t was in the summer of 81 that Will
lie Phillips and myself, then gay bach
elors of %, weary with the business that
had surged in upon us during the winter
months, rented between us small
shootipg-box in the Western Highlands,
with the view of recruiting our wasted
energies in pastime of which we were
both very fond. L admired Phillips al
most passionately. He was fine, hand
some fellow, with yellow hair and blonde
mustache, and possessed the gentleman
ly manners and easy flow of converse
ton which esteemed above all things.
But my attachment to Will was no mere
passing admiration of his brilliant parts
and fascinating manners; it dated as
far back as the days when we were bows
Mt school, and had gone on in an unin-
terrupted flow ever since, strengthened
by the test of time. We had, moreover,
numberless things in common, among
the most important of which was-we
were both confirmed bachelors; in good
truth, bachelors proud of the name
bachelors who never intended to be any,
thing but bachelors, and who took
peculiar pleasure in saying 80, and in
vowing allegiance to each other in
manner that would have done credit to
the Corsican brothers.
1t was therefore with brilliant antici-
pations of the delight we were to expe-
rience in each others society that we
found ourselves the occupants of a pref
ty villa, on the outskirts of little out
iandish place in the Highlands, far re-
moved from all friends and acquaint-
ances. With sigh of relief, and de-
hghtful feeling Of freedom, we wheeled
our chairs into the open bow window on
the night OF our arrival, and, lighting
our cigars, sat down to enjoy the really.
beautiful scene before us. In the fore.
ground lay our own smoothly-cut lawn
and rectangular fower-beds, with the
moonlight falling in pale, bright bars
over the sleeping flowers; and beyond,
the silver loch, whence we could dis
tinctly hear the light laugh of some late
pleasure-seekers, as they rowed SLOW
~ homeward, while above the
loch the hills rose in dark, ma
leshc outline against the pale
beauty of the sky. Will, as apropos to
the scene, had been repeating. as best
he could between the whiffs of his cigar.
Lord Byron's "Lake Leman :" and an
animated discussion, which had after
wards arisen on the merits and demerits
OF that much maligned poet, was sud.
IDENTIFY interrupted by a burst of the
finest music had ever heard. 1t was a
splendid soprano voice, accompanied by
the guitar, singing the old pathetic
Scottish song, "Auld Robin GRAY"
The expression thrown into the voice was
simply exquisite. When the mournful
minor key was struck Will snatched his
cigar from his lips, leaned forward in a
breathless, listening attitude, as if afraid
to lose single vibration, and did not
move again until the song had ceased. I |
felt strangely affected myself. / had
often listened to the same song before
but never with the soul-thrilling of TO, |
night. As the last cadence died awav.
borne over the silvery water to the dark
hills, it seemed to me as if it were an
angels whisper over the deathbed of a
child.
The sounds proceeded from the open
room windows of the villa next
our own, and when, at last, they ceased.
Willie, resuminR his cigar in the most
prosaic fashion, remarked "By Jove
that was good singing, Frank. This is
better than box at the opera eh, old
'ellow?"
GO It's the finest singing, without ex-
,eption, / ever listened to, answered.