LITERATURE.

Globe, Volume XXIII, Issue 2189, 2 March 1881, Page 3

LITERATURE.

A LONB WOMAN. ‘lf you please, ma’am, won’t you give me a drink of milk ? ’ Miss Fydget had just come in from a long and bootless search through the pasture fo a wandering brood of young turkeys, which had been missing since morning. She was warm and tired ; one boot was burst open on the side, her sun bonnet bnng limp at the back of her head, her gray onrls were in true artistio confusion, and a vicious blackberry briar had torn her hands, until sho looked as if she might have been in a skirmish with the Zulns. ‘But I wouldn’t have minded all that,’ was Miss Fydget’s melancholy comment to herself, ‘if only I could hove found my young turkeys. They do say there is a company of tramps loafing about the country and ’

Just then the voice of an old man, sitting on the well-curb, broke in upon the thread of her reflections, an old man In «■ shabby gray coat, buttoned closely across his chest, shoes thickly coated with duet, end a rude cane, out from the woods, np«u which he rested his folded hands,

Miss Fydget stared at the old man, the oid man returned her gaze, deprecatingly, ‘(Perhaps yon’re deaf, ma'am,’ said the stranger, elevating his voice a semi-tone or so higher. ‘No more than yourself!' said Miss Fydget, naturally somewhat irritated. Miss Fydget bethought herself of the floating rnmor she had heard. Perhaps this venerable vagrant was one of the very band now marching through the vales and glens of Kochemont; perhaps even now he had a corps of bloody minded coadjutors hidden behind the stone-walls, or under the moss roof of the ancient smoke-house.

And Miss Fydget was possessed of several pieces of antlqne silver, and had forty dollars in an old teapot on the uppermost closet-shelf.

‘ Who are you ? ’ curtly questioned she, ‘ A man and a brother,’ the old man answered, not without a covert smile. •No yon are not,’ said Miss Fydget, incensed at what she deemed a piece of unnecessary insolence. 1 Yon’re a tramp.’ The stranger smiled. ‘ls a tramp, then, destitute of all the privileges of humanity? ’ he asked. ‘ Eh ? ’ said Miss Fydget. ‘ Tramps must live as well as ether people,’ pleaded the old man. ‘ Now look at me. ’

‘ Yes,’ said Miss Fydget, * I’m looking at you; and a dusty, shabby-looking figure yon are, I must say.’ ‘ I’ve walked fifteen miles since morning, with nothing to eat or drink. ’

‘ That’s what they all say,’ said Miss Fydget, incredulously. * Would it be any great stretch to your hospitality to give me a slice of bread and a drink of cool milk 1 ’ be replied. Miss Fydget stood for a moment, pondering the petition in her mind. * Look here, old man 1 ’ she said, at last, ' I know perfectly well that you’re a tramp; but I suppose that you’re a human after all There’s a pile of knotty pine stumps under the shed; you may split a few for my cooking stove.’ ‘ But ma’am’

4 1 knew how It would be,’ shrilly interrupted Miss Fydget."’You’re a deal too lazy to work; you’d rather starve than do an honest day’s work any time.’ * I beg your pardon,’ said the old man, mildly. *ltis a good many years since I split a pile of wood ’ * I’ll go bail it is,’ said Miss Fydget, satirically.

‘ But if you will get me the axe I will try and do my best,’ he added meekly.

’ The axe is hanging up in the wood shed, at the left hand side of the door,’ said Miss Fydget. And she went into the house, leaving her venerable visitor to do as he pleased about accepting her offer. After she was within the yellow-washed walls of her own kitchen, however, it occurred to her that she had done rather a foolish thing ’1 suppose he’d as soon split my head open as the sticks of wood,’ she thought to herself. ’ And of course he knows that I’m alone in the world—l mean in the house. But it’s pretty much the same thing,’ with a deep sigh. ‘And who knows but I may be murdered within the next five minutes ?’

‘ Thud I thud !’ came the sound of the axe, descending with slow, regular strokes upon the yellow stumps of yellow pine; and Miss Fydget listened with a sort of terrible fascination, wondering, as she did so, what sort of relation, In the matter of sound, the human tympanum might bear to the pine stumps. * What a fool I was I’ said she to herself.

And, with noiseless movements, she went across the kitchen floor and took down a rusty musket, which had hung suspended over the old brick chimney ever since she was a little child.

‘I don’t know as I could fire it off,' said she ; * but I’ll try, if I see any signs of mischief,’

It was unnecessary, however. Sho poured out a bowl of milk, first thriftily pausing to skim it, and then cut [a good thick slice of rye bread, taking care to secrete the breadknife when she was through. And then seating herself by the window, her thoughts wandered back to the question of the missing brood of turkeys. ‘He knows where they are, I’ll bet anything,’soliloquized Mias Fydget. * And he shall tell me. Old man—old man—old man, I say!’ The venerable wood-splitter paused at the sound of her summons. ‘ Como here!’ she called.

The old man obeyed. • You’ve done enough,’ said Mias Fydget, inwardly rejoiced that he had left the axe sticking in the last pine knot instead of coming toward her brandishing it in the air, Fowhatan fashion.

* That is what I was just thinking myself,’ observed the old man, wiping his streaming forehead. ‘ And now,’ said Miss Fydget, sharply and suddenly, as If she would fain take him by surprise, ‘ whero are my turkeys ? ’ ‘ Eh ? ’ uttered tho old man.

‘My turkeys! ’ shrilly enunciated Miss Fyd get. ‘My brood of sixteen white turkey chicks.’

‘ I am sura I cannotsay,’ said the old man with a puzzled countenance. ‘ That’s false,’ said Miss Fydget imperially. *lf yon don’t know, your gang does; and I insist on having my turkeys back again. ’ The old man looked bewildered. Miss Fydget eyed him with a gaze calculated to strike dismay into the most obdurate heart.

• Madame,’ he began, but Miss Fydget interrupted him. • There’s your milk,’ said she, ‘ and yonr bread. If yon can eat and driok with a good conscience, knowing my turkeys are gone, do so. ’ Apparently Miss Fydget’s turkey chicks rested but lightly upon the conscience of the wayfarer, for he ate and drank to tho last mouthful. • Madame,' he said, as he placed the empty bowl within the window sill—Miss Fydget had taken the precaution to bolt and bar the door.

* Qo,’ said the lady cnrtly, * But I wished to say to you’ By way of answer. Mis* Fydget took up the rusty gun, placed it on her shoulder, and pointed the barrel full at her guest. ‘ If you don’t take yourself off I’ll fire,’ said Mies Fydget, resolutely. And upon this unmistakable h : nt, the old man took np his cap, and trudged away as fast as he could go. ‘ The woman must be a maniac,’ said ho to himself.

While Miss Fydget made haste to take a dose of valerian to settle her ‘perturbed senes. ’

‘I have had a narrow escape of it.’ said sho. ‘ but I must get rested as quickly as possible, and go to Lavina Thorpe’s to tea The Bishop is to be there, and I wouldn’t miss the opportunity of meeting him for a thousand dollars! ’

And, between the stimulus of the valerian, and the calm afforded by half-an-hour’snap. Miss Fydget managed to array herself _ in >• stiff black silk dress, with a white ribbon cap and set out for Lavina Thorpe’s at a few minutes past four. As she crossed her door yard, a slowly winding procession met her eye, returning down the rocky slopes of the pasture-moa dow - the sixteen young turkeys ! 1 There they come now,’ said Miss Kydget, with a momentary twinge of conscience in regard to the t: amp. ‘ However, it’s all

over and gone now, and what’s done can’t be nndofls! ’

The company was all gathered at La vine, Thorpe's, the best china and silver wen out, and great bunches of cabbage roseo decked the mantle in gilt vaaes, that were Mb least a century old. ‘ls he here, ’ nervously whispered Mias Fydget, as she removed her hat in the front chamber upstairs. ‘ The dear man—yes I' said Miss Thorpe, enthusiastically clapping her hands. ‘ Walked all the way from Simstown Station, and met with all sorts of interesting adventures. What do you think of his being taken for

But here she was called away. When Miss fydget descended, serene and smiling, she was led np to a smiling old man, with gray hair and cordial blue eye, 4 Miss Fydget,’ said Miss Thorpe fueily, ‘let me make you acquainted with Bishop Playfair, of Obirita Territory.’ ‘Bless my soul,’ cried Miss Fydget, dropping her fan and smelling-bottle, • jtV the tramp ?’ The Bishop smiled serenely. ‘Mies Fydget,’ said he, ‘yen never can guess how deliciously cool that miln tasted to me. And, by the way, I mot a brood of young turkeys in a stubble field as 1 crossed from the highway, which I concluded must be yours,’ Both joined In irrosistablo laughter, and In five minutes Miss Fydget, set at her ease by the Bishop’s tact and kindness, was chatting cheerfully away regarding the Cbirita mission.

•But to think,’said Mies Lavina Thorpe, afterward, ‘ that yon mistook tho Bishop of Chirita Territory for a tramp !’ ‘And set him to splitting wood, and pointed a rusty musket at him,’said Miss Fydget.

Mr Swinburne is about to publish a paper entitled “ Tennyson and Musset,” in which he takes up the gauntlet thrown down by M. Taine.