LITERATURE.

Globe, Volume VIII, Issue 1008, 18 September 1877, Page 3

LITERATURE.

SUMMER'S GOLDEN DAYS. [By Beatrice Dunphy.] Chapteb I. * Woman is at best a contradiction still.' I j iave an intense inexpressible desire to go into the country ; I have a wild unutterable longing to see the green iields, and to hear the murmur of the river as it Hows smoothly through the meadow at the end of auntie's garden ; I have a mad impulse to throw myself down in a hayheld, and to toss the hay about until I am weary ; but I can have none of these glorious things, for it is the hiight of the London season, and mother will not let me leave home. I think it is very hard of her ; but she believes she is doing her duty by keeping me in hot wearisome London ; and she think" I ought to have my chance as well as the other girls, so she takes me about to concerts, garden parties, balls, fetes, and (lower shows, until I am in such a whirl of excitement that it is quite by chance that I say the right thing to the right person, and do not do something to make myself ridiculous and to vex my sisters. Mother thinks that it is liigh lime ous of us was married; and a?

I am the second, and am twenty-one, all her energies seem to be expended on me this season.

I suppose it is because Rarbara, my eldest lister, is such a lovely girl that she can pick and choose her husband, so that there is no fear of her being put on the shelf, and that there is plenty of time for Helen, who is only just out, that mother pitches on me to torment uniuerci ully just now. June is so hot in London, and I do long for the country : and yet I am so strong and Hell that my longing does not make me look pale, and late hours do nob even take the lustre from the roses in my cheeks, or 1 might appeal to mother's heart, and then she would let me go to the country to freshen up my beauty. I am not a bit beautiful, though ; only I am young, and all the Heseltines have good mouths and pretty figures, so I come in for those two attributes just in the same way as I get my name of Lois Heseltine. I am all this time dreaming of the country and of pleasant things instead of dressing for dinner, and the bell will ring directly and I shall be late, and father will look grieved, and mother will scold, and I shall not be one bit nearer Coolmory. In the midst of my meditation Helen comes into my room, and says father is waiting for me before she tells us all a piece of news. I quickly change my dress while Nellie gets out my ribbons and frills, and before Jong we are all eagerly listening to father's story. H e tantalises us by making us guess his news, and after refusing to do so, we all make the most lamentable failures in that line, until I say (my mind still full of the country), ' Has it anything to do with the Coolmory people ?' Then father says, ' Lois's guess is the nearest, for Maggie is going to be married this day fortnight, and she wants Lois to go down at once to help her make preparations and to be her bridesmaid.' ' And how did you hear it, father V Barbara asks, as she absolutely looks interested about Maggie; for we are all very fond of only cou»in. ' Well, the young man came to see me at the office to get my consent as I am her guardian; but as your aunt and Maggie had already settled everything, there was nothing left for me to do except to give them my blessing, which I did most heartily.' Mr Stratford is a gentlemanly young fellow, and has been curate at Coolmory for a year ; he has just been presented with a living, and nothing will content him but to marry Maggie off-hand, so that they may take a holiday and wedding-tour in one, before they settle to his parochial work down at Westbury. 'lt is very annoying that Maggie's wedding is to take place just now,' mother says ; and then continues, ' Why could she not have asked Barbara or Helen to be her bridesmaid instead of Lois ? But they always were such friends, I suppose I must let her go ;' and then father decides the question at once, and adds, ' Of course Lois must go, and after the wedding she must stay with aunt Mary until Maggie returns from her honeymoon expedition.' Already I am wildly happy at the idea of leaving London, and happier still when I think that I shall be out of all the gaieties that are set down in the engagement-book, and which stretch out until the end of burning July. How I commiserate my sisters when I think of what they will have to go through while I shall lazily enjoy the lovely summer weather down at Coolmory ! Don't think I am not fond of gaiety, and even of London; but lam weary of it all just now, and particularly weary of mother's efforts to get me married. I have never seen a man I could love, so 1 have never wanted to be married; but mother will insist on it, and seems to think it reflects discredit on her tact that she has still her three daughters on htr hands. I am quite content to wait until the others are married and then I trust she will let me alone to enjoy myself in my own way, and keep father company, while she goes about finding husbands for other people's daughters. I have no reason to grumble just now though, for my wish is gratified, and I am down to Coolmory for six weeks' holiday, and shall only return just in time for the general migration to the coast or the Continent. Mr Strafford has been to see us, and we all agree with father in thinking him quite an unexceptionally agreeable young man; and mother considers Maggie a lucky girl to have already secured such a prize in the matrimonial lottery. He proposes to take me down to auntie's on Monday morning; and as Maggie also signifies her approval of this plan in her letter of invitation, I agree to it, and am radiantly happy during the next three days, though i am taken about a great deal more than I consider good for me. Monday at length arrives, and amid kisses from the girls and innumerable directions from mother about the length and fit of my bridesmaid's gown, father slips a clean crisp ten-pound note into my hand. Mr Strafford and I are at last driven away. Then, and only then, I realised the grati fication of being on my way to the country, and at the same time as happy a girl as was to b 3 found within the bills of mortality, as somebody says. lam leaving behind me all the gaieties and so-called pleasures of the metropolis, and all dear mother's plans for my future happiness, which cause me so much weariness of spirit in the present. (To he continued.)