LITERATURE.

Globe, Volume XXI, Issue 1764, 15 October 1879, Page 3

LITERATURE.

AT THE OPERA. ' Now, what a pleasant evening we can have here all alone,’ said little Mrs Gray, dropping the crimson curtains in the cosy sitting-room and turning to her husband, as she spoke. ‘ But I would like to go to the opera!’ she added, her dimpled face lengthening a little. ‘ You half promised, you know, Fred, but I suppose you are tired. ’

* Yes,’ yawned her drowsy spouse, from his post on the sofa, where, with heels erect, after the fashion of the masculine world in general, intent on physical and mental comfort, he lay smoking. ‘But never mind,’ finished Rose, consolingly, ‘ we can go another time, and I will read to you.’ And she drew nearer the shaded light on the centre table, and picked up a book. ‘ Hark! there is the door bell.’ And she rose to her feet.

‘ Stay, I will answer it,’ said Fred, suddenly forgetting his wearinea ; and, springing up, he went hurriedly into the hall. • Rosa,’ he said, presentlyreappearing at the door, ‘ It’s Davis; I have promised to go with him to B street, to see a sick friend of his. You won’t be lonely, pet, with so much to entertain you.” And with a kiss he was gone, with her, * Don’t stay long !’ ringing after him. Rosa sat listening! till the sound of their footsteps died away, ‘ Now, I shall spend the evening all alone. Oh, dear !’ she sighed disconsolately. At than moment she spied a bit of paper lying on the carpet, and stooping, picked it up. It ran thus : ‘ Opera at half past eight. Will call. ‘ Davis.’ * Ah!’ said Rosa, her brows contracting as she spoke. * That’s it ?’ and she tossed the note into the fire. 1 That detestable Davis—and Fred, too!’ she finished, the tears springing to her eyes quickly. * Why didn’t he say so if he did not want me to go?’ ‘Oh !’ she finished, *lf I could only go to-night!’ And with a little sigh she sat down again and looked into the fire. Soon the door-bell rang again. * Show him in !’ was her reply to Katie’s announcement, in rich Irish brogue, ‘ Gintleman to see ye, mem!’ ‘ I wonder who it is ?’ she murmured, passing her hand over her fair hair. ‘ Why, George!’ an instant later was her delighted exclamation, ‘ When did you come ?’ Further exclamations were lost in fond kis ea from the lips of the tall, bearded young man. ‘My darling little sister! So you are glad to see the wanderer?’ was the first affectionate query. ‘ Indeed, I’m delighted !’warmly responded Rosa. ‘ How handsome you have grown, George 1’ • Flatterer 1’ smiled her brother. * But where is Fred Vho asked, suddenly. ‘I am anxious to make the acquaintance of that happy brother that I never have seen. How much I wanted to come to the wedding, dear, yon cannot know. I was in Brazil when your message reached me. Hut what's the matter ?’ he asked, pausing quickly, and glancing at" Rosa’s grieved face. * There, ’ seeing tears in the bright eyes, 1 tell me all about it-’

Rosa poured the tale into his sympathizing ears, and‘ended with—--4 O George! If we could only go 1’ ’And go we will,’ said George, looking at his watch, 4 How soon can you get ready ?’ ' In about fifteen minutes,’ laughed Rosa gleefully, and she ran blithely away to get ready. There was a slight stir in the house as a couple entered ; very late they were, and all eyes were centered upon them—the lady slender and graceful, with great azure billows of silk falling about her in shimmering folds, and a snowy opera cloak drawn carelessly about her shoulders—the gentleman stately, nonchalant, wearing that air of polish attained by foreign travel, and devoted to his companion, whom he seated with carefni tenderness. 4 Grey,’said Davies, giving his friend a nudge, 4 who is that last party that is making such a sensation ?’ SlGrey turned carelessly and looked; the look deepened to a stare, and gazed blandly at the lady, who flattered her spangled white fan with the faintest suggestion of a smile, as she turned to her companion with a remark, which he bent his handsome head to hear.

' Fred turned scarlet, then pile, and clutched Davis fiercely by the arm. ‘Why,’ he gasped, ‘it’s Rr sal and .who the deuce has she with her ?’

1 1 don’t know,’ returned Davis, indifferently. 4 Some friend, probably. Sit down Grey j don’t make a fool of yourself !’ 4 1 won’t sit down, ’ retorted Fred, irascibly ‘ Friend ? My wife here with another man !’ And with an imprecation he strode from the house. ‘ I’ll go home,’ he muttered angrily, ‘ and see what it all means. Serves me right for leaving her 1 Row lovely she was ! I didn’t know she was half so beautiful! But my proud darling at the opera with another. I cannot understand it!’

A few minutes rapid walking brought him to his home.

‘Kate,’ ho inquired summoning that worthy, ■ where is your mistress ?’ , Sure, she wint out,’ volubly explained the girl, ’with a foine gintleman what came soon afther yez lift, and was glad to see her, I thought he’d niver stop kissin’ her.’ 4 That will do ; you can go 1’ sternly commanded Mr Grey. And he slowly made his way into the little room he had left an hour ago with such different feelings. The light was burning brightly, the papers scattered about, the open book, even the little lace trimmed handkerchief, that in her haste she had dropped upon the floor, all spoke elo quently of the dear little wife, and Fred groaned as he picked up, with nervous fingers, a card from the table, on which was written, 4 Gone with a handsome man, ’ and on the other side, 4 George Curtis,’ Fred laid it down as quickly as though the innocent pasteboard scorched his fingers, not noticing in his haste that the name was the maiden one of his Eosa, and, falling upon the sofa, buried his face in the pillow and moaned —

4 My little love, gone —given to another—lost tome!’

Soon the sonnd of carriage wheels reached him. There was a soft rustle across the carpet, and two hands touched him, while a sweet familiar voice cried—

‘ Poor Fred! are you sick ? Brother George has come, she completed breathless, as he sat np, looking pale and haggsrd. *He took me to the opera; I was so lonely.’ And seeing the outstretched hands and twinkling eyes, Fred extended his own, saying: ‘ Welcome home, Brother George. I must thank yon for your care over Rosa in my absence.’

‘Not at all? Not at all 1’ responded George as they heartily shook hands. *I am delighted to meet the happy fellow who won my pet sister.’ And no further allusion was made to the affair.

‘ Fred,’ said Rosa, demurely, as they entered theirjown apartments, ‘is that friend of Davis’s better? And’—very gravely—- ‘ how came you to attend the opera ?’ ‘Rosa!’ cried Fred, turning impulsively and catching her in his arms. ‘ Don’t tease me I How could you frighten me so, darling ?’ ‘ Did you care so much?' whispered Rosa, nestling closer. * But you deceived me, and I felt so badly ! If you had only told me 1 But we will bo good now, won’t we ?’ and she put up her rosy Ups for the kiss of peace.

‘Of course, we will!’ said Fred, penitently, choking over the tender reproach. * I never will again, if you will forgive me this once. I was punished. I thought I had lost my wife. But,’ he added quickly, ‘we did call to see the friend first,’ and he had the grace to flush. ‘ Smart woman, that little wife of mine,’ he remarked to Davis, as he told him about it the next day. ‘ She turned the tables neatly.’ ‘ Humph ! ’ muttered Davis. ‘ Told yon so ! ’ DOCTOR OGILVY AND THE DIVER. A SKETCH. [WEITTBN SPECIALTY YOB XHB “GLOBE.”] Doctor Ogilvy is dead now. He has “ crossed the unknown river, Life’s dreary bound,” and the dear delightful absentminded spectacled little doctor I shall behold no more ; but the anecdote I have to relate concerning him will not mar his memory, De mortuis nil nisi bonum is a time honored maxim, and worthy of all acceptation, but the advice it gives would never have been required if all mankind were as single minded as the genial doctor; for I do not think that any one could with truth ever say an evil thing of him. He was always styled Doctor, but though a qualified M.D., he never at any time practiced, but he lived a retired batchelor life on a modest competency, to which he chanced to succeed immediately on taking his degree at the University of Edinburgh. It was, indeed, a lucky thing for him that he so succeeded to this little fortune, for I do not think he could ever have made even a living as a doctor, so shy, retiring, and unobtrusive was he. His great delight was reading, and his favorite pastime was fishing, of which he was for the greater Eart of his lifetime passionately fond, though e had given up the practice of it in his later years ere I knew him, and only resumed it one memorable occasion—the occasion to which my anecdote refers. He was, as I have said very absent-minded—with nothing of the curious or inquisitive in his nature—and never once troubled himself about the “ whys ” and “wherefores ” of things at all. A friend of the doctor used often to say of him (and to him), that he believed if a dead donkey were placed on his sitting-room floor, the doctor would walk round it to hifl chair without even troubling himself to enquire how such an object should come to be there. This is, perhaps, a slight exaggeration, but what follows will illustrate fully enough those amiable characteristics of Doctor Ogilvy without any aid from figure'or imagination.

In the year 1866 or 1867, the late Lord W—, for the improvement of his salmon netting stations on the river Tay, employed one of the East Coast divers to blast some rock in the bottom of the river, and to remove some large stones that lay in the river bed and interfered with the working of the nets. Whilst the work was going on, some of the chains or boring irons had broken, and as these had to be sent some distance for repairs a delay of two days had to take place in the work at which the diver was employed. To while away the time, and most probably to wor k to some advantage to himself as well, the diver utilised this enforced delay by taking his assistants, boats, and diving apparatus up to the river Isla to search for pearls, found in the muscles which abound so plentifully in the Tay and some of its larger tributaries. It so happened that just at this very time Doctor Ogilvy had bethought him, after many years’ cessation, of returning to the favorite pastime of his youth and manhood, and on the identical day on which the diver went to fish for pearls, Doctor Ogilvy, with brand new rod, tackle, and basket, set foot on the green banks of his favorite stream, a fully accoutred veteran disciple of Walton. The part of the river at which ho arrived was a little further down than where the diver Swas engaged, and adjusting his lines, &c., the doctor began with all hie old vigor and earnestness to whip the stream, following closely, like a good old fisher as he was, with his spectacled eyes, every movement of the fly as he made it bob to the action of the rod. Slowly working his way up the stream, he gradually approached to the place where the diver was at work at the bottom, when his eyes wore suddenly attracted to some bubbles that were rising about the middle of the river. Now, any other man than the doctor would have seen two men in a boat on the opposite side propelling a wheel, and would have associated their action with the rising of the bubbles in the centre of a deep river as cause and effect. Not so the doctor, however. If he had seen the men at the wheel he would no more have associated their action with the rising of the bubbles than he would have connected it with the rising of gas shares in Camsteerie. It was enough for him that ho saw bubbles, and, holding it as a cardinal article of Faith that bubbles on the surface of a river were always indicative of the existence of a spring at the bottom, and wherever there was a spring there was always abundance of fish, the doctor was determined to try his luck here. In vain, however, he lengthened his line and endeavored by every exertion to reach the bubbles from the shore. Every effort was fruitless, and so, though much averse at that time of life to wading, he was compelled to take off his boots and stockings and wade into the river barelegged until ho could reach them by casting. This was certainly a great bother to the doctor, but the temptation was irresistible. Arrived at within reach, the doctor was soon whipping at the bubbles with intense earnestness. At this moment, the diver having occasion to crawl up and over a sand bank in the river, which rose to within perhaps three feet of the surface of the water, suddenly brought his enormous head and shoulders above the water, and with his tremendous glassy eyes glared at the doctor. Stolid, hideous, and imperturbable he rose from the bosom of the silent river, and glared at the utterly dumbfounded and penalized piecator. It was enough. One startled glance through the gold-rimmed spectacles, one convulsive tremor, and rod, reel, lino, hat avid basket were flung away by the doctor, who, scrimmaging in hot haste to the shore, disdained the boots and stockings he had doffed, and tied like lightning along the banks. One glance, and only one he gave after reaching the shore, and this occasion the diver utilized by making sundry pantomime gestures expressive of his regret at having disturbed the doctor, and of his intention to descend at once to the bottom again. But whether or not the gestures and splashing? made by the diver to indicate his humane intention had been received by the doctor ns a clearly defined indication of the water demon to drag him into his watery cave, they had at all events the very opposite effect of alluring him again to the water, for he fled as if for dear life, and though the men at the wheel bawled after him and yelled till the very welkin rang, ho never even turned his head or slacked his speed until he reached homo. The poor doctor lay ill in bed after this, in consequence of the fright and of the exertions he had made. But ho was not long in recruiting. Not, however, till the little town had been convulsed with the story of the Doctor and the Merman. After this the place was too hot for the good little sensitive doctor, who could not stand the faintest allusion even to a diver. He betook himself, therefore, to a little seaport town further north, where he died. Farewell good genial Doctor Ogilvy. Many a happy hour have I spent in thy company, and many a time have I, and others who loved thee well, laughed till the tears ran over cur eyes at thy little escapade with the diver,