LITERATURE.

Globe, Volume XXI, Issue 1798, 25 November 1879, Page 3

LITERATURE.

THAT UNLUCKY QUOTATION. A Story of “Pinafore.” From “ Harper’s Bazaar.” They would have made a very pretty picture on a painted tile, as they sat on the porch in the vivid afternoon light. The cottage itself was as trim and complete as a toy house; its color was a soft gray. The late sunshine was shining, fresh from a shower. Auntie Trib was sitting in a bright red rocking chair, and her pretty old face was as pink and white as bnnch of roses ; and as for Sallie herself—well, aek any critic in Boohdale, from the oldest inhabitant down to the tiniest toddler, and you will hear a more enthusiastic comment than any which I can supply. Eochdale is a neat little New England village, far away out of the world in a rooky, hilly-and-daley district, where the direct descendants of the Puritans still hold their sway. Auntie Trib’s son. Free Grace—called ‘ Free ’ for short—made his name good at an early age by snatching his liberty and marching away ‘ to town ’ —never mind what town ; we can call it L—. He verified his mother’s title at the same time, for she became an embodiment of tribulation; but Free disappointed her agreeably, for_ he found a good situation, and worked in it faithfully and steadily. He was now a never failing source of pride and delight when on his brief visits he dazzled Boohdale with his ‘ town-made ’ 'garments, his dainty moustache and general air of * style.’ His last visit, proved an epoch in the history of Boohdale. and also in the history of his fair consin Sallie. He brought with him on older friend, employed in the same house with himself, but in a more advanced position. This personage, whom he designated as Jack Arnold, immediately sent poor Free into the shade, and cast him down from that pinnacle of fame which he had mounted at the cost of many a pair of highly, polished boots and much-studied elegance. I will not attempt to describe the effect which young Arnold produced upon the ‘simple village maidens.’ Every pretty wile which had formerly been directed toward the fortune 1 e son of Auntie Trib was was now levelled at his friend, with a force and energy that produced the effect of a bombardment. Ere long, however, it was discovered that the new-comer was proof against every species of attack Not that he was invulnerable—far from it. The truth was that he had fallen nnder the very first short. He had not been beneath Auntie Tib’s roof twenty-four hours before he had snocombed unconditionally to the force of Sallie’s charms. The little Puritan maiden, with her cameo face and her stedfast grey eyes, stole at once into bis heart—an honest

heart, for there is no villain in this unpretending tale—and from henceforth he was her liege knight for life. It was not by p issionate pleading an 1 great deeds that he undertook to win her for his own ; no, the task was but easy, after all. Ho was fair, good humored, tall and handsome ; Free said he was a capital fellow, and faille had great faith in Free ; he was devoted and unreserved in expressing his affection; what more could a maiden ask ! Before his vacation was over he had bravely made known his love, and was shlly but readily accepted; and when he and Free left Bockdale they bade a tender farewell to a happy little damsel with a ring upon her finger. All this did not happen long ago. but in th's very year of 1829. Bookdale was away far and deep 'among the hills ; it was not very near the town of X) —, and L— f itself was not a great city. How should Rockdale know what was agitating the world beyond ? By newspapers, of course ; but women do not read tha newspapers carefully,, and the two women of this narrative seldom look into them. Especially did they, in their Puritan rigor, neglect the amusement columns. After all, why read of operas, plays and concerts that one cannot see or hear 1 When anything was ‘ going on ’ in Rockdale itself, all the village was on the alert; but no one cared what the fashionable folk stared at through their opera-tla=ses in the great cities. So this year, when ‘H.M.S. 3PinsforoJ’| sailed jauntily, with colors flying, into American waters, many of the inhabitants of Rockdale recked not of it, and this simple fact brought consternation to the house of Hill. The ‘saucy ship ’ found its way to L—, anchored there long enough to set a few enthusiasts to singing ‘ Little Buttercup ’ and ‘ The Merry Maiden and the Tar ’ (incorrectly,of course), and not finding so warm a welcome as in some of the larger cities, soon set sail again for a more congenial haven. But the mania for quoting the libretto especially the « hardly ’ epidemic—spread in that region, as it did everywhere. Onr friend Jack Arnold went to see the

performance, and of course, he thought of Sallie all the evening, and envied young Hill, whose lady-love was in the party. The two young men were meditating a brief visit|ta Boohdalo, and.henoe it was, perhaps, that Jack’* thoughts were too far away to allow of hi* giving full appreciation to the incomparable little opera. All the tender music filled him with thoughts of love, from whl h the ira sl-table jingle of the many

choruses beguiled him only for the moment. Therefore, when the day came for the journey to EochdaL, and he found himself at last in the presence of his beloved, his mind wa* quite absorbed by the joy of it, and ho had no leisure for such trifling matters as the discussion of a pretty new opera. So Sallie was left still in her benighted ignorance; she knew nothing of ‘ Pinafore.’ They began to talk of mundane matters, however' on the second evening, when they were all seated together. ‘That poor Laura Peamis!' said Auntie Trib, compassionately. ‘Did yon know she’d got back, Free ?’ ‘Laura Beamia!’ uttered Free, with a laugh, and glancing at Jack, who looked a trifle conscious. ‘ You had a flirt— ’ ‘Yes,’ interrupted his mother ; ‘and they do ssy she’s been jilted by some town yonng man to a degree that’s made her a poor, heart-broken consumptive.’ ‘Lear me!’ exclaimed Free. ‘Heart snd lungs gone at one full swoop ! This is going into the dying business wholesale.’ The irreverent comnrent was received by Auntie Tiib with much reproachful indignation ; but Saliia sat mute, with a wildly beating heart Gossip had carried to her ears the tale that Laura Beamia had claimed a former acquaintanceship with Jack Arnold. The unfortunate girl had gone to live with her aunt in L , and had returned in serious ill health, the result, it was said, of a disappointment in love, Free’s look was peculiar. Could it be—‘My gr ef ! it’s an awful thing,’ continued Auntie Trib, ‘ She was engaged to him, I think, and he went off somewhere and came back engaged to some other girl. My ! the poor thing looks as if she had one foot in the grave a’reafly. It’s really too dretful, ain’t it John? ’ —with a sudden appeal to the silent listener. ‘ Very—very, indeed,’ said Arnold. ‘I— I knew her.’

‘ You did ? Well, I want to know ! ’ said Auntie Trib, ‘ Why didn’t you say so before ? Wasn’t she pretty, poor thing, before she got so low spirited 1’ ‘ Who was the man ? ’ asked Sallie, suddenly. ‘ Very pretty, I think, said Jack, answering Mrs Hill’s question. He did net mean to ignore Sallie’s, but Free broke in with a torrent of lively nonsense, and the conversation drifted away from Laura Beamis and her troubles. Sa’lie was slightly uncomfortable, but she had confidence in her lover, and did not allow herself to indulge, as yet, in causeless suspicion. Auntrie Trib, however, recurred to the former subject, which had distressed her simple, sentimental old heart. She exclaimed, meditatively r *My ! ain’t it dishonorable for a man to behave so'!’ ‘ If I knew him, ’ said Sallie, looking like a youthful prophetess, in her sweet austerity, * 1 would never touch his hand again—no, not if he had been my best friend.’ ‘ What T so severe ?' asked Jack, with half-amused remonstrance. ‘Whew! Look out, Jack,’ cried Free. ‘ Ton never did anything dishonorable, did yen ? ’ ‘Never,’ answered Jack, readily and quietly enough. This was Irresistible. {To be continued.')