The Lambertville record. [volume] (Lambertville, N.J.) 1872-1968, 1882-03-22
SELECTED SKETCH.
MISS M0NTEAGLE'S PLAN.

Hl1OO mO1N E1ILE y L LAIN.
MY only daughter, sir" said Colonel
Monteagle. And, as / venture to hope,
accomplished in her way. We are not much
in the way of schools or academies here, but
have been her instructor myself, aud she
is thorough mathematician, an excellent
musician and linguist of no mean capacity.
We are studying Hebrew now every day,
she and |, and she devotes her evenings to
comprehensive reviews of her Latin and
Greek. She will be scholar sir, if l live
to complete her education !"
Mr.. Crofton looked curiously at the oddly
assorted pair-tho silver-haired shabbily-at-
tired old gentleman, with his bald forehead,
eagle eye and delicately-white hands; and
the dark-browned, sullen-looking girl, with
the gypsy skin, untidy frock and patched
boots
Pretty? Yes, she might be under some
circumstances. The diamond itself is not an
attractive stone before the lapidarys art has
polished its rude angles into glittering facets
of white fire. But she certainly possessed
liO oWttt SIdCtS HOW.
How old are you, Miss Monteagle ?" he
asked, finding it impeatively necessary to
say something.
And Mary MORTGAGE answered, in words,
seventeen" while her looks replied plain
ly, None of your business !"
go, my child, and gather some flowers
to deck our humble board, " said the old gem
tleman, magniloquently, while he conducted
the son of his oldest friend into the tumble
down old stone house, where the carpets
were moth-eaten, the furniture widowed,
and every trace of decayed gentility told the
sad story of better days.
Mrs. Monteagle, who Ind been beauty
once, and had had her portrait engraved in
" Gallery of American Rose-buds," was
sitting up in state in battered 6oud'oif, in
black silk dress that must have been quite
quarter of century old, with flower in
her silver-sprinkled hair, and still preserved
the girlsh attitude in which the engravers
pencil had immortalized her, oddly contrast
ing with the sharpened outlines and haggard
abruptness of her sixty-odd years.
And this was the way in which the old
couple lived, in the dead past as it were,
Colonel Monteagle starving contentedly on
the recollection of his past grandeur, and
his wife fondly fancying that time had stood
still since the days in which she was counted
worthy to be one of the American Rose
buds"
Mrs. Monteagle sweetly welcomed her
guest, and touched the little hand-bell at her
side.
ave will dine. Sarepta," she said to her
maid.
9 Please ma'am," breathlessly uttered that
young person, there amt nothin' for din
ner. We eat the las, of the cold beef yester-
day, and the dog tipped over the pan of
oysters, and "
"That will do, Sarcpta, y said Mrs. Mont
eagle, with a red spot mounting to each of
her cheek-bones. 81 said-we will dine !"
And Sarepta Withdrew with jerk.
The dinner was served presently--an in
stance of the magnetic power of will-but
there was no cold beef, neither were there
oysters. Fruit, thin watery soup of herbs
and parsley, a tastefully -garnished salad of
lettuce and mayonnaise, and dish of peach.
es and cream formed the meal
"Quite Arcadian !" said Mrs Monteaglc,
with giggle.
'And very badly served" secretly com.
mented Mr.. Crofton to himself "But the
salad was NICE"
"Where is Mary" asked the colonel
Drinking in the beauties of the sunset, l
presume" the lady said airily. The dear
child has an artists soul, and we do not tie
her down to any hours or rules"
The colonel fell asleep in his chair after
dinner; Mrs. Monteagle and her painted fan
withdrew themselves into the bo,seloi,' and
Mr.. Crofton, inwardly bewailing himself
that he had promised to stay a week at Mont
eagle Manor sauntered ont upon the
heights which overlooked the valley below.
AS he stood there. rustling sounded in
the bushes, and the dark-browned gypsy
sprang up the hillside.
lyon have fine place here, Miss Mont
eagle" he said, by way of making himself
agreeable
II hate ii !" said Mary, darlsly.
"I-beg pardon !" exclaimed Mr.. Crofton
IN amazement.
''f do p flashed out the girl hate it
all The learning, and the purity, and the
grand pretenses and the miserable make
shiftsl"
"But-"
"Ah" said Mary Monteagle, "you don't
know it ALL You never heard the trades
men bowling at the back door like pack of
wolves you don't know that the house is ad-
vertised for sale for tax arrears How
should you? How should you be aware
that the very clothes we wear are not paid
for, nor the Goals that cook our dinner
Papa smokes his cigars and talks about the
Mexican war; and mamma poses in the
great chair, and dreams of embroidery work
and tapestry stitches and IL am expected
to learn Arabic and Sanscrit, and nobody
knows what else, and ignore our wretched
poverty. But can't Who could !"
Mr.. Crofton looked pityingly at the girls
sparkling eyes, and pale, excited face.
81 am very sorry to hear this, !" said he.
Can nothing be done?r
Yes" said Miss Monteagle, brusquely.
Something can be done-and am doing
1t, in SO far as can. But papa and mamma
Il n. IL -