Pittsburg dispatch. [volume] (Pittsburg [Pa.]) 1880-1923, 1890-09-14

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ment of the cause of the feud that has been
between them-of the wrong that is rank
ling at her heart:
o dinna We mind. young man, said she,
when the red wine ye were filling,
That ye made the healths gae round and
And sighted Barbara Allanf'
And proud and indignant she turns away.
There is no sham laughter here; no impos-
sibie cruelty; but a quarrel between two
fond lovers that become suddenly tragic,
when death steps in to prevent the posi-
blllty Of any reconciliation.
He turned his face unto the wa.
And death was with him dealing:
"Adieu, adleu, my dear friends a,
Be kind to Barbara AllanF
Can anything be more simple. and natural,
and inexpressibly sad as weil?-
She hadna game a mile but twa.
When she heard the dead-bell knelling,
And every jOw that the dead-bell gave,
1t cried, "Woe to Barbara Allanr"
"Omother mother max my bed,
Q max it fast and narrow;
Since my love died for me to-day,
I'll die for him tomorrow"
1t is the story of tragic quarrel between
two true lovers: it is not the impossible and
prsposterous story of a giggiing hoyden
grinning at corpse!'
And here it was probable that old George
Bethune, having warmed to his subject, and
being as usual wildly enamored of his
latest scheme, would have gone on to give
further instances of the value of COLLATION.
and comparison, but that Mr. Carmichael
was forced to interrupt. The proprietor OF
the Edinburgh Chronicle was a busy man
during his brief visits to town.
"Very well, Mr.. Bethune," said he. 81
think your idea a very good one-an ex-
cellent one, in fact, for the weekly edition
OF Scotch paper; and I will give you carte
blanche as to the number OF articles. Who,
knows" be added, with a condescending
smile, "but that they may grow to book
to take the place of the one that was snatched
out Of your hands?"
And again, as his visitors were leaving,
be said in the same gooG-humored way
81 presume it is not necessary for us to
discuss the question of terms, especially be-
fore young lady. If you have been salts
fed with US so far"
II am quite content to leave that with
you: quite, interpOsed the old man, with
some little dignity.
Il was only going to say" Mr.. Car
michael resumed, that series of articles
such as YOU suggest may require a good
deal OF research and trouble; so that, when
the reckoning comes, will see you are put
on the most favored nation scale. And not
word more ABOUT the American book: we
were disappointed-that is all. ["
This latter admonltIon was wholly un-
necessary. When George Bethune got out
into the street again, with Maisrie as his
sole companion and confdant, it was not of
that lost opportunity ne was talking it was
all of this new project that had seized his
Imagination. They had to make one or two
calls, in the now gathering dusk; but ever,
as they came cut again into the crowded
thoroughfares, he returned to the old bal
lads and the opportunities they presented
for series of discursive papers. And
Maisrie was about as eager in anticipation
as himself.
''Oh, yes, grandfather" she said, "you
could not have thought of happier sub
ject. And you will begin at once, grand
father, won't you? Do you think 1 shall be
able to help YOU in the very least way?-it
would please me so much if could search
out these things for you, or copy, or help
you in the smallest way. And know ii
will be labor of love for you; it will be a
constant delight; and all the more that the
days are getting short now, and we shall
have to be more indoors. And then you
heard what Mr. Carmichael said, grand
father; and if he is going to pay you well
for these articles, you will soon be able to
give him back the money he advanced to
you about that unfortunate book"
"Oh, dom you bother about such thingsp'
he said, with an impatient frown. "When
/ am planning out an important work l
don't want TO be reminded that it will re-
suit n merely so many guineas. That is
not the spirit in which l enter upon such an
undertaking. When 1 write it is not with
an eve to the kitchen. Unless some nobler
impulse propels, then be sure the result will
be despicable. However, 1 suppose women
are like that; always the res augusta domi;
when you are thinking of the literature of
your native land-of perhaps adding some
little tributary wreath-they are looking to-
ward grocers' bills The kitchen-the
kitchen is before them-not the dales and
wales Of Scotland, where lovers loved, and
were broken hearted. The Kitchen
But Maisrie was not disconnected by this
rebuke.
.And YOU will begin at once, grand
father" she said, cheerlully. "Oh, know
it will be so delightful an occupation for
you. And L don't wonder that Mr..
Carmichael was glad to have such a chance
Then it won't involve any expense of
travelling, like the other book YOU thought
winter evenings won't be so dull, grand
father, when you have this to occupy you;
you will forget il is winter altogether, when
YOU are busy with those beautiful scenes
and stories. Then every Saturday morning
] shall watch for the post-and hope YOU
will make the articles long, grandtather-
for who can do them as we'll as YOU can?
And will you tell Vincent this evening,
grandfather: be will be so interested: it will |
be something to talk of at dinner"
But Vim Harris was to hear of this great |
undertaking before then. When Maisrie
and her grandfather reached the door of
their lodgings, he said to her
''You can go in now, Maisrie, and have
the gases lit. l must walk along to the |
library and see what books they have; but
I'm afraid I shall nave to get Motherwell,
and Pinkerton, and Allan Cunningham.
and the rest of them from Scotland. Aytoun
they are sure to have, 1 suppose" So they |
parted for the moment; and Maisrle went |
upstairs and lit the gas in the little parlor. |
Then, without taking off her bonnet she |
sat down, and fell into a reverie-not a |
very sad one, as it seemed. She was sitting |
thus absorbed in silent iancies, when a ia |
miliar sound outside startled her into at
tention; she sprang to her feet; the next in |
slant the door was opened, the next again |
she was advancing to the tall and hand |
some young stranger who stood somewhat |
difidently there. and both her hands were
oulstretched, and light of joy and graft |
tude was shining in her eyes.
"Oh, Vincent, L am SO glad you have |
come over!" she said, in way that was far |
from usual with her, and she held both his |
hands for more than a second or two, and |
her grateful ewes were fixed on his without |
any thought of embarrassment 81 was
thinking of you. You have been 50 kind
90 generousI 1 wanted to thank you, and
am so glad to have the chance"