LITERATURE.

Globe, Volume IX, Issue 1266, 9 April 1878, Page 3

LITERATURE.

CAROHEL'S FARM. by johnny Ludlow. You will be slow to believe what I am about to write, and say it savors of romance instead of reality Eveiy word of it is true. Here truth was stranger than fiction. Lying midway between our house, Dyke Manor, and t hureh Dykely, was a substantial farm belonging to the Caroinels. It stood well back from the road, a quarter of a mile or i. o, and was nearly hidden by the trees that surrounded it. An avenue led to the house —a rambling, spacious, very oldfashioned buil Hug, so full of queer angles inside, nooks and corners and passage*. that you might lose your way iu them and never find it again. '1 he Caromels were gentlemen by de'C'-nt, but their means bad dwindled with years, so that they had little left besides this property. The last Oaromel who died, general y distinguished as "Old Caromel" by all the parish, left two sons, Miles and Nash. The property was willed to the cLler, Mi'es : but Nash continued to have his home with him. As to the. lvuse, it had no particular name, but was familiarly called "Calomel's Farm." Squire Todhetley had always been intimate with th m ; moreiikea brother than anything else. N<>t but that he was considerably their senior. I think he liked Nash the best lie was so jielding and easy. Some said Nash was not very steady iu private life, and that his brother, stern and moral, read him a lecture twice a week. K nt whether it was so nobod v knew: people don't go prying into their neighbours' houses to seek out the holes in their coats, At the time I am beginning to tell you of, old Caromel bad been deal about ten years ; Nash was now liveand-diirty, Miles forty. Miles had married a lady with a good fortune, which was settled upon herself and children ; the four of them were girls, ami there was no son. At the ot> or end of Church Dykely, ever so far past Chavasse Grange, lived a widow nam d Tinkle And when the world had quite done wondering whether Nash Caromel meant to marry (though, indeed, what had he to marry upon?), it was suddenly found out that he wanted Mrs Tinkle's daughter, Charlotte The Tinkles were respectale people, but not e lual t" the Carome'B Ms Ti ikle and 1 er son farmed a little land, : ho had also a small private income. ' he son bad ma ried well : but just i ow he was away; having gone abroad with his wife, whose health was failing Oharli tte Tinkle wa<» getting towards thirty You would not ha<e thought it, to lo"k at her. - he had a gentle face, a gently voice, and a yrnvg, Blender figure 5 he* lii/h brown hair was dwaya ti a«; ami she possessed one -of those inoffensive, Tiatu'es that would like to ho ;«t pe"ee "i'h the "hole w.ir'd It. w- s^.Natural that Mrs Tingle tlvii'd wish her daughter t niarn if a»\body suitable presented hims« If a ! l mothers do, I to Hud it was Nash Caromel took her aback. ' You think it will.,not .do.j observed - the Squire, whea Mra Tinkle waa enlarging on

the grievance t > him one day that they met in the two acre fifld. ' How can it do ?' returned poor Mrs ! inkl , in a tone between wailing atd crying. ' Nash « aromel Ins nothing to keep her on, sir, and no prospects.' 'That's true,' said the Pater. 'At present. He has thoughts, I hear, of taking a farm.' ' But he has no money to stock a farm. And look at that tale, tir, that wan talked of— about that Jenny Lake. Other things have been said also ' ' Oh, one must not believe all one hears. For I assure you, Mrs Tinkle, I know no harm of A ash. ;\s to the money to .-.took a farm I ex-ect his brother could help him to it, if he chose.' 'But, sir, you won'd surely not advise them to marry upon an uncertainty !' 'I dou't advise them to marry at all; under tand that my good lady; I think it would be the height of imprudence. But I can't prevent it.' 'Mr Todhetley,' she answered, a tear dropping down her thin cheeks, on which there was a chronic redness 'lam unable to describe to you how much my mind is set against the match ; I seem to forsee that no good would ever c(.me of it ; nothing but misery for Charlotte And she has had so peaceful a home ail her life ' 'Tell harlotte che can't have him—if you think so strongly bout it.' ' (She won't listen at least to any T purpose,' groaned Mrs Tinkle. ' When I talk to her, she saya ' Yes, de*r mother ; no, dear mother,' in her dutiful way : and the same evening she'll be listening to Nash Caroniel's courting words. Her Uncle Tinkle rode over fr«m Inkberrow to talk to her, for I wrote to him : but it seems t > have made no impression on her in the long run. What I am afraid of is, that Nash Caromel will marry her in spite.of us.' ' ! should like to see my children marry in spite of me!' the Squire, giving way to one of his heats. ' I 'el " marry " them. Nash can't take her against her will, my dear friend : it takes two people, you know, to complete a bargain of that sort;. Promise Charlotte to shake her unless she listens to reason. Why should she not listen ? She is meek and tractable.' ' She always has been. Put, once let a giT be enthralled by a sweetheart, there's no answering for her. Luty to parents is often forgotten then.' 'lf V\ hy, mercy upon us, there is Charlotte 1' br <ke off the Pater, happening to lift his eyes to the stile. 'And Nash too.' Yes, there ihey were : standing on the other side the stile in the cross-way path, having met accidentally. ' Halloa !' called out the squire. 'I cant stay a moment,' said Nash Caramel, turning his goid-b okiug face to speak ; and it cannot be denied it was a good looking face, or that he was an attractive man. ' Miles has sent me to that cattle sale up yonder, and I am full late.' With a smile and a nod. he stepped lightly onwards, his slender, supple tigure, of middle height, upright as a dart ; his fair hair waving in the breeze. Charlotte Tinkle glanced shyly after him, her cheeks blushing like a peony. 'vvha'sihis I hear, young lady?—that you and M a-h yonder want to mike a match of it, i: s ite of pas r ors and masters!' bt-gan the ><j'!irv. ■fs it tme?' Co.htte 9 0'«1 like a g >ose, making ma k« oil t: ; e dti ty path with the n< of er lar e g --s-..:ei.i parasol. Para 1* were made it>< it e cnuti not show. ' as l ! it i-.-'thiug, you know,' w r <.n th*>. Pat r. 'N > !••■. ney, no lan t, no in use, no a, ytlii< g. I'here'd not be common sense in it, •■ arii. te.' ' 1 tell him so, sir,' answered Charlotte, lifting ner shy brown eyes for a moment. ' ' o be sure ; that's right. Here's your mother fretting herself into fiddleatringa for fear of—of—l hardly know what' 'L r st you should be tempted to forget your duiy to me, Lottie,' struck in nor mother. ' Ah, my dear! you young people little think what trouble and anxiety you bring up n us.' ('harlotte Tinkle suddenly burst into tears, to the surprise of her i:ehold'T3. 1 rying th-'ni up as soon as she could, she spoke with a sigh. ' I hope I shail never bring trouble upon you. mother, never ; I'd not do it w T il!in..sly f.j the world. But " ' But what, chid ?' cried the mother, for Charlotte had come to a standstill. *I —I am afraid that pa; cuts and children see with different eyes —just as though things wore for each a totally opposite as ect. The difficulty is, how to reconcile that view and this.' ' Aud do you know what my father used to say to me in my young days ?' put in the Squire. ' " Young folks think old folks fools, but old folks know the young one to be so." l here was never a truer saying than that, Miss Charlotte.' Miss t r.arlotte only S'ghed in answer. The wind, high that day, was taking her muslin petticoats, and site had some ado to keep thi-m down. Mrs Tinkle got over the stite, and the Squire turned back towards home. To he continued