LITERATURE.

Globe, Volume XXIII, Issue 2145, 10 January 1881, Page 3

LITERATURE.

A SLIGHT MISUNDERSTANDING. Br Bell Blossom. I am naturally of a retiring disposition, and apt to shun ladies' society ; therefore it was with sometbieg bordering on a shock that I read the following letter from my old friend and college chum George Arnold. We had been Damon and Pythias in those ancient days. He was a whole-sonkd truehearted fellow, always mixod np in Interminable love affairs, from which my cooler head and hand were ia constant requisition to release him. He was a handsome man, too ; therefore it was with little wonder that when absent from my restraining influence I learned that he had committed the fatal act of matrimony. But to return to the letter. I spare my leader that part of it which eulogised the charms of the wonderful creature who had linked her life to his, the ecstatic bliss in which his days were t,p?nt, his fervent adjurations that 1 should follow his Benedictine example, and proceed to the subject matter, on the thread of which hangs my story : t Seeing is believing my dear fellow, therefore I will not take no for an answer, in my desire to hava a visit from jou in our new home. I don't think I shall feel my happiness quite assured until I have felt the honest grip of your hand, and watched the envious look in your eyes. I will meet you at the station next Friday morning at ten o'clock, in the dog-cart, and leaving the ladies at home, will show you a little of the country behind my bay team before introducing you into their august presence. * The ladies! I gasped, and re read the words. There must be some mistake. Surely my frind had not become a disoiple of Mormonism.

But, at any cost, I must go. In reality, I had no excuse to offer for a refusal, and our friendship was too old and dear to lightly refuse so cordial a request. I had forgotten the feminine noun in the plural number when, in obedience to George's orders, I stepped from the train on the morning designated. He was standing on the platform waiting for me, and I had no need to look twice in' o his handsome face to see that the happiness of which he spoke had left its impress there. His groom, close by, stood holding the heads of as fine a pair of horses as would make any man. forget womankind in general, then scrambled up into his seat behind, as, settling ourselves upon the cushions, my friend gathered np tho reins, and we bowled swiftly off into the open country. Two hours later we turned into the private grounds of a beautifully appointed country seat, past the gothic lodge and up the giavelled drive, until, before I had had time to ask a single question, my friend sprang out almost before the horses had fairly stopped, and embraced—yes, embraced—two ladies, who were sitting upon the poroh surrounding the spacious and handsome house.

I more quietly followed suit—l mean as to the act of descending, not as to the embrace—while George turned round and introduced me, with much warmth of manner, to his sister and his wife.

The mystery was explained—there was a sister in the case. Which was she ? Small need to question. Sis hand rested with an air of proprietorship on the shoulder of the young lady to whom I stood nearest. She was prettier, too, than the other, and I had great confidence in George's taste. Her cheek had the faintest rose-blush upon it; her mouth the most exquisite curve ; her eyes were dancing with mischief —and such eyes! Gray in color but at night looking black—a delusion the long, sweeping lashes helped to strengthen. She was, in a word, a beautiful woman; and I no longer wondered at George's proud happiness.

_ The other was pretty, too —not unlike her sister—but a pretlinesn whioh paled in Mrs George's more dazzling charms. The afternoon and evening parsed delightfully, George was remarkably unselfish, and allowed me to almost monopolize the lovely creature he called wife.

This put me more at my ease and banished the restraint from my manner, which was apt to characterize it in any interview with young, unmarried women

She sang, too, delightfully, and, bending over her at the piano, I discovered a feeling tugging at my heart closely akin to envy. Daring the next few days, I fancied that George watched me with something of amusement in his manner ; but, spite of my most careful scrutiny, I could detect no possing shade of jealousy. One day, going into the sitting-room, I discovered n-.y friend's wife gazing out of the window, with a look of painful abstraction on her beautiful face.

It was so new an expression to find its way there that I followed the direction of k r eyes to see what had caused it.

George was seated in the Summrr-house, plainly visible from where we stood, and by his side her sister, with his arm about her waist.

Could it be that Clsre (I had 'earned this was her name, though my lips had never dated venture to utter it) was jealous ? My heait throbbed with indignation for her. Did she feel herself neglected ? However this may have been, the moment she detected my presence i he turned to me with her old glad imile, and in that moment the mask I had so persistently worn over my own heart dropped and revealed to me the truth.

I was madly, passionately in love with my friend's wife. Something in my eyes, perhaps, told her the truth, for a vivid blush mounted to her face, and, with some incoherent words of embarrassment, she ran from the room.

I stood mute and despairing in the spot where she had left me.

George, in his nobility and honor, had trusted me. I had shamelessly betrayed the trust. What was to be done.

Mechanically I put my hand in my pocket and drew out the time-table. The next train left at four o'clock in the afternoon I mnst mate a clean breast to George—we were too old friends to resort to subterfuge —and take the train to bear me away from this Kden, with its serpent of disappointed hopes curled among the flowers. But conld I look into his manly, honest eyes and disclose the story. Vo, I must write, and in my note I would warn him, too, of that expression I had surprised in his wife's face on watching that scene in the summer-houße. I found it a more difficult task than I had imagined to let him know I was unworthy of his friendship ; but so only could I redeem my fault, and 1 persevered bol;ly, the perspiration standing the while in great drops upon my forehead, until my letter lay directed on the table, and I threw myself, with a deep groan, upon my couch, to try and compose myself for my journey. The voice of the man I had wronged aroußed me. Before I had time to move, he was in my room. ' Hello, old fellow! You're not ill, surely ? Why, what's this?' his eye falling upon the note I had left carelessly upon the cable. ' A note to me, and in yoar writing ?' 'Yes; read it," I said, hopelessly, trusting that he might challenge m*, and determining that I would fire in the air, and pray his bullet might speed to its mark. Then I buried my face in my rillow and waited. I do n<t know whether it was a minute or an hour, until his hand fell on my shoulder, and I turned around to see him smiling—yes, actually smiling in my face. ' It's only a slight misunderstanding, my boy,' he said. ' You have got the parties a little confuted. It is my wife's sister, not my wife, who has worked yon all this trouble. AVill you take the four o'clock train now ? Shall I order the dog-curt to bo got ready ?' I could only stare at him in blank amazement,

* Not your wife ? ' I questioned at last, f* ebly. ' No. Clare discovered yonr error on the first evening yon arrived, and begged me to not undeceive yon. She is full ot rniscbief, and thought it would be fun. Perhaps she, too, hs.s discovered it a more seriuus matter. I leave that for you to find out.' My joy was as great as my despair hat' been, and it is maccly neceesary to add that the four o'cltck train did not have one miserable passenger added to its living freight. In fact before that hoar I had discovered Clare in the garden, and though I could not refrain from a little justifiable revenge in making her suppose that I was making love to her in the character rhe had assumed—that of George's wife— and thu bringing the

kly and rose alternately in her oheek, Isooa oonvinced her that I had penetrated her disgriise, but that I had found her so fascinating in the role of a married woman that I wished her to assume it as sooa as poa« sible. r But never since that day has my wife or I had any cause to regrtt * A Slight Misunderstanding.' BURDETTB ON COMMERCIAL TRAVELLERS. What would I do without " the boys ? " How often they have been my friends. Igo to a new town. I don't know one hotel from the other. I don't know where to go. The man with the samples gets off at the same station. I follow him without a word or a tremor. He calls to the 'bus driver by name, and orders him to "get out of this now," as soon as we are seated. And when I follow him I am inevitably certain to go to the best house there is in the place. Ha shouts to the clerk by name, and fires a joke at tho landlord as we go in. He looks ovor my shoulder as I register after him, and hands me hie card with a shout of recognition. He peeps at the register again, and watohea the clerk tteaign me to 98. " Ninety nothing," he shouts; " who's in 15 ?" The clerk says he is saving 15 for Judge Dryasdust. "Well, ho be blowed," says my cheery friend, " give him the attic and put this gentleman in 15." And if the clerk hesitates, he seizes the pen and gives me 15 himself, and then calls the porter, orders him to carry up my baggage and put a fire in 15, and then in the same breath adds, " What time will you be down to supper, Mr Burdette ?" And he waits for me, and, seeing that I am a stranger in town, he sees that I am cared for, and that the waiters do not neglect me ; he tells me about, the town, the people, and tho business. He is breezy, cbeery, sociable, full of new stories, always good natured; he frisks with cigars, and. overflows with "thousand-mile tickets ;" and he knows all the best rooms in the hotels; he always has a key for the car seats, and turns a soat for himself and friends without troubling the brakoman, but he will ride on the woodbox or stand outside on the platform to accommodate a lady, or he will give his seat to an old man. I know him pretty well. For three years I have been travelling with him, from Colorado to Maine, and I have seen the worst and best of him, and I know the best far outweighs the worst. I could hardly get along without him, and I am glad he is numerous.—American paper.