Richmond dispatch. [volume] (Richmond, Va.) 1884-1903, 1886-05-09
UNDER ORDERS.


XDUDUIvoQ 70 90 duty ~ btuuys "s"'"b
Eoon, uursery, and general sissine-room
5 vluossgs IN tho East End Of Lon
q -. 81, one afternoon IN late autumn,
4 s no&her and son. That most pathetic
Nm q povsrty--the kind which Is
Rrked b indissolabls union with gen.
( l|1l1y--hsd stamped this monde.
SRjst apSrsmsnt for It's own.
~ wallpaper had seen better
1aye. and had lighted on exceptionally
Or onss the ceiling was blackened
With gss; the carpet had lost oil trace
q ~ original pattern; the drugget was
eopiously darnsd in places, where q
thSesdbsrs condition recorded the track
81 footstsps; the horsehair seats oil
IL mahogany chairs we're deplorably
wevn 1t the edges, and the position Of
arailWay rug in the vsry centre Of .
forbiddipg- looking sofa suggested the
idsa that rents or stains probably lurked
beneath its friendly shade.
Little folks had left marks OF their
psessncs scattered here and there IN
To room. On the sideboard was pile
= Of copy-books, dog-esred primers, and
etory-books, flAnked by an atlas from
bshind sofa-bolster peeped scantiiy-
attsred doll, with solemn. staring blue
eves. hectic cheeks, and battered
hesd, wherein bald patches alternated
With fsxsn ringlets.
Tia house stood in plot Of unpro-
ductivs lAnd--by courtesy called gar
dsn--which apparently furnished re-
creation ground for . number Of hens
Who e the present moment derived
strange enjoyment from occupying holes
which they had scratched for them
elves. in the earth beneath some de-
crspit shrubs. Beyond the garden
stretched the streets and lanes oil
Whitechspel. Cesseless street-cries
mingled with the rattle Of wheels, the
bansing Of omnibus-doors, and the
iipeling Of trsm-car bells. Third
sditjou--EcAo," shouted in shrill ire
bic, sharp.looking youngster with a
bundle of papers under his arm; Dix
for sixpence-cau-li.A flowers" roared
The deep bass Of costermonger; q
dustmsn, knife grinder, . shoe-black,
: cat-meat's man, . fish-stall keeper,
, and other members of the itinerant ira.
fernity blended their voices in madden.
ing chorus.
Within the vicarage, mother and son,
needless of the distracting sounds, were
engaged in earnest conversation. The
mother, . middle-aged lady, with
care-worn, refined face, diligently
darned small sock which stood great
" in need of her services; the son. .
Young man Of about three and twenty,
with . slim, 1.-the figure, and boyish,
handsome, sensitive face, mechanically
watched her flying needle as be listened
or replied.
Mrs. Murray WAS the wife of the
vicar of st. Stephens, Whitechspel,
m elderly, scholarly, unsuccessful
clergyman, whose means were wholly
INADEQUATE to meet all the claims made
on him by . numerous family. The
sor-Dsvid by name-had early de-
yeloped intellectual tastes his ex-
penees at school and college had been
defrayed by o wealthy eccentric kins-
man Of his mother. The youth turned
out shy, studious, and dreamy, the
possessor of an enthusiasm for
poetry, but Of little practical ability,
and Of no instructive knowledge OF
the world. When, with the attain
ment Of the "Newdigate" and good
degree, his college career came to an
end, and the time arrived when aid in
the adoption Of calling would have
been highly acceptable, the relations
assistance was capriciously withdrawn.
David Murray returned home, and
doubt reigned under the patcrnal roof
with regard to his prospects in life. His
father shook his head obviously when
the young man bashfully professed him.
self . wooer Of the muse and express
cd . desire to follow the vocation OF
poet. " Poetry doesn't pay, even when
the writer is genius, and-you are not
genius, you know, David" said the
clergyman, with sorrowful candor."
Mrs. Murray belonged to q wealthy
family who had taken umbrsge at her
marriage with . poor parson. Her
brothers and sisters had consigned her
to oblivion, and her name was omitted
from her fathers will. But few days
before my story opens . sister, the
widow of fabulously rich East-lndian
merchant named Wilton, held out the
golden sceptre Of reconciliation, and
Mrs. Murray touched it with trembling
rapture. I'VE are sisters" gracious
" wrote Mrs. Wilton from Florence,
whore she was spending some months,
"snd 1t is time to forget our diff
ferences." From this exordium the
widow passed to the narration Of fami'
" Quarrel, which had indirect relation
to the Murray interests. +" am greatly
disappointed she wrote, Sin my
nephew Tom-poor James's son--who
till lately managed my estates in Devon
and Somerset. He has given me grave
cause for displeasure, and l have shut
my doors upon him. This being the
case, I am anxious to make the &C
ousintance Of your eldest lad, who has
received no benefits from me, and
from whom, therefore, according to
the way Of the world anger in
vested the writer's pen with unwonted
sarcasm--"I expect the moro graft
tude. You have not yet, l suppose,
seen your way to putting your son into
any profession. Well, Toms empty
place a steward may in time, and aftel
duo preparation, suit him; who knows
/ am resolved to like the lad; l ever
build castles in the cir for him, ant
have in my head . scheme for his mar
siage with my husbands ward, joyce
Balfour, who lives with me and is my
heirsss. Send your son to Florence tc
pass the winter here and tc return with
u In the spring to Devonshire. Lei
him spend what time and see whs'
places he likes en- route. enclose
check Tor his travelling expenses"
Consciousness Of the pique tarouse'
by - Nsphsw Tom ~ which obviousl
Isy e he bottom Of this letter did nc
d}stufh the pleasure with which Mr.
Murray received her sisters overture
"a told herself, 10 her simple pist,
go Providence hAd opened . way 4
= l. L. Ill 4.