LITERATURE.

Globe, Volume XXIII, Issue 2293, 9 August 1881, Page 4

LITERATURE.

A JAPANESE JAR.

‘I think it cruel, absolutely cruel, and I can’t understand it, and never shall,' said pretty Amy Iselin, with a sob in her voice and a mist of unshed tears blurring her vision and making ♦be gorgeous pattern of the jar which are hold 'ancein magnified proportions b tore her eyes. ‘lt wasn’t dear aunty that was cruel,’ replied the calmer May. ‘ She meant to give us tbis house and all she had. I know she did, for she told me so a hundred times. V,~hv, I recollect perfectly her putting her h mil on tout little writing desk, and saying 'Write your letters here sometimes, dear. It will make yen think of me.’ Do you think she would have said that, if she had meant that Cousin Elishi should have the dtsk ? I know the will gives all to him ; but there’s some mistake lam convinced, some torrid, dreadful mistake. I know aunty ortver meant to leave everything to Cousin Elisha, and to us only her clothes and the jar, which our father brought her home from his first long voyage. The will says so; hat that doesn’t make the least difference in what I think.’

‘That will,’ broke in impetuous Amy, ‘is dated seventeen years ago, when yon were not four years old and I almost a baby. I know as well as you do that she mode another. N body need tell roe that. But where is it? What did she care for Cousin Elisha ? She never saw him and hardly ever spoke of him ; end how dearly she loved us both, especially yon, May ! lam sure she caver meant to leave ns out in the cold, with oar seven hundred ja year; just encugh to starve on somewhere in the country, bnt not enough to keep a roof over oar heads, or give us any pleasure, or —’ A sob.

‘The jar is worth a great, great deal, Mias Peters says,’ remarked May, after a pause of silence. ‘ She thinks we could get four hundred dol’ars for it, if we sent it to Tiffany’s.’ ‘ Does she really ? I can’t bear to think of se’ling it, though ; only I suppose we mnst. Here, May, put itton the side-table, please. It’s dreadfully heavy.’ How do ouch things happen ? Was there some failure in responsive action between the two volitions, when Amy lifted and May held out her hands to receive the jar, or was the acoident the result of some tricksy Fate, bound not to be thwarted in its malicious d,’signs? Certain it is that, between the two. It slipped and fell. May’s rapid clutch only gave it a new and rapid direction toward the marble hearthstone, on which it struck heavily. With a scream of dismay Amy threw herself on her knees, and gathered it up. Too late. The jar was a wrack. A large hole appeared on one side, and there several fragments lay on the door. ‘lt is a e'ean break ; that is one comfort. It will rivet beautifully,’ declared May, when the first shook of horror was past. ‘But of what use is a broken jar P We can’t sell it. No one will want it now.’

‘ No, I suppose not; but we will have it mended and keep it in remembrance of papa and aunty.’ ’ It’s just our luck, isn’t it ? sighed Amy, as May wrapped the pieces in paper and deftly made one parcel of the three. ‘ Jmt our luck. We only had one thing in the world, and now we've smashed that.’ ‘ It is too, too bad,’ said May, aorrowfa ly, as she tamed the key of a little cupboard at the side of the chimney, and laid the parcel of broken china on the shelf inside. As she did so she gave a little exclamation, ‘ What is It ? ’ asked her sister.

‘ Nothing. Only I’ve out my finger on this broken lamp-chimney. Don’t look so frightened. It isn’t much. Hardly more than a scratch!’ wrapping her handkerchief about it as she spoke. ‘ But really, it’s quite dangerous having such things about. Of what possible use is a broken lamp chimney. Bridget,’ to a maid, who just then came in, ‘ please throw away this broken glass to-morrow. It Is of no use, and soma one will hurt themselves badly If It stays hero.’ ‘ Yes’m.’

'What a queer habit that was of aunty’s to keep everything, whether it was of any use or not,’ said Amy, meditatively, when Bridget, after lighting the gas, had left the room. 4 lt makes it stranger still that her will should be missing, 1 told you (didn’t I?) that Ben Allen is almost sure that his father mentioned, about five years ago, that he had just been drawing np a will for aunty. That was tho year after we came here to live. Oh lif " only old Mr Allen hadn’t died. Don’t you remember, jtoo, how aunty spent days last spring in looking over papers, and tying them into bundles, and sorting and labelling? It seemed as if she hod a presentiment of what was going to happen, and she wanted to put all in order.’ ‘ What became of the papers she threw aside? asked May, with a sadden thought. ‘ I don’t know. The ragman took them, I presume.’ 4 Well, there’s no use in dwelling longer on what might have been,' said May, sagaciously. ‘ What is, is all we have to trust to, which means that you and I have ju-t aavon hundred a year to live on, with aunty's old things to help us along at first. And -we must be brave and so? what wo can make ont of it.’ ‘ Without even tho jar to help us,’ added Amy, bitterly. 1 That would have been something ; so, naturally, it is broken.’ ‘ I am dreadfully sorry about the jar.’ confessed May; ‘ but don’t look so tragical, dear Amy. Aunty used to say that accidents sometimes turned out blessings in disguise ; and perhaps this will, though I confess I don’t quite see how.’ She little guessed how truly she spoke; and neither did Amy, as she shrugged a pair of incredulous shoulders and mutte ed—- ‘ Optimism I Nonsense 1’ May’s optimism, if that it was which gave its serene coloring to her hopeful nature, sustained a severe shock when, g-’ing to tho cupboard, five days later, for the fragments of the jar, they proved to be missing. Bridget was interrogated, with this result—- ‘ Sure ye said they wuz all to be throwed away.’ ‘ Yes, the broken lamp-chimneys ; but not— ’ ‘And how wuz I to know? They wuz all broke alike; so I in wid them to the dnse-barT.’ 'Do you mean that yon put that parcel of broken china that was done up in paper into the dust-barrel ?’ 1 I didn’t know you wanted any of it saved. I just cleared out all the broken things.’ ‘Oh 1 Bridget 1 Bridget 1 ’ despairingly. Then, with sudden hope : • Where is the bairel ? ’ ‘ Sere, it was emptied the day before yisterday. That’s tho regurlar time. It’s very sorry I am, Miss.’ ‘ Do you know who empties it ?’ inquired May. It’s a cart that comes along, A man drives it. I don’t remimtier his name beyont that it’s Mike. Twice a week it comen. He’ll not bo here agin till Saturday.’ ‘ I wonder if Ben could find out who the man is, and where he empties his cart ? ’ suggested Amy. ’ Ben ? Ben Allen ? Perhaps he could. We will aok him, If he happens to drop a.’ Ben was rather given to ‘ dropping in ’ in thoie days. Ho was deeply in love with Amy Iselin, if truth must be told ; but prudence and honor had so far sealed his lips cn tho subject. A young lawyer, fighting for practice among a crowd of eager competitors, he could barely calculate on a subsistence for himself. To ask a girl to marry him, with no better hope to offer than an interminable engagement, was wrong and unfair, he considered. It was hard enough I I hold an honorable silence while the girl ho loved was struggling with perplexities and worriea, which he could neither relieve nor share; and more than once Ben had muttered wrathfully to himself : ‘ Confound old Miss Iselin 1 What did she mean by pretending to be so fond of those girls, and then going off and leaving them without a penny—not even a mention in her will ? I wish I knew the rights of ths thing. If she had done as she ought, I, perhaps I—and he tugged at his moustache wrathfully. But ill-treating his moustache did Ben no good, nor did It serve to throw the lesst light on the vexed question of Mias laoiin’s lost will.

The question of the city oartman was much more easily settled. ‘ Mike’ was found and questioned ; but his replies were not encouraging:

* I dumps on that big Common out to the East End; but, bless yon, Ma’am, ii wouldn’t be no nae for any one to go searching there. There’s a matter of twenty carts that dumps alongside of me, and if your chiny was inside tho barrel, why , there’s five or six ton of rubbish atop of it, most likely, by this time. ’ ‘ But I mean to go and search for it, all the same,’ declared Amy. ‘And 3’ll go with you,’ said M»y. “ And I, too, if you really mean it,’ put in Ben Allen.

* ’Twon’t bo no use, ’ persisted Mike. But he described as well as he could the part of the Common on which he had emptied his loads the Tuesday before.. Then he drove off, still shaking fals head, and repeating, pertinaciously os Poe’s raven, his refrain of ‘No use ! ’Twon’t be no use 1’

The girls really did 4 mean it,’ and next day found them equipped for the expedition, in their oldest clothes and hats. Each carried a small hoe, and they kept their veils down In the oar, fearing to be reoog nised by some acquaintance in this unaccustomed guise. It looked a hopeless quest, indeed, when they reached the big Common and surveyed the huge piles of rubbish with which they had to deal May’s zeal gave out at once and, though she made a pretence of using her hoe, the strokes were rather a pretence, and she shrank fastidiously from the dusky cloud which they evoked. Amy was of mote vigorous stuff, and, choosing her spot, she plunged in, regardless of dirt and its consequences, and had since made a considerable excavation. Snch extraordinary rubbish as she turrel np 1 Old shoes, hoopsklrta of antiquated patterns, battered and rusty tin pans, broken glass, broken china, broken everything, tomato cans (always a specialty of dust heaps), coverless bowls, scraps of calico, odds and ends of every description. One old andiron was discovered, bearing its brass knob above the ashes, and was pounced on by Amy as lawful prize. Bnt its fellow was not to be found, which made it, as Ben suggested, about as valuable as half a pair of scissors. It was a dusty, dirty, depressing searoh ; but Amy’s zeal defied discouragement, and she delved and dug with energy worthy of a nobler cause, finding considerable amusement meanwhile In the motley articles which her search revealed.

* And just to think that all this is less than a year’s accumulation!’ said May. ‘The man said this Common would be filled np by the end of the year, and they would have to begin dumping in a place.’ ‘ Oh, dear, what a lot of rubbish there is in the world ! It quite wears me out to realise it,’ rejoined Amy, with a sigh. ‘ Well, you don’t seem to be very active. I shall begin in a fresh place, I think, There doesn’t seem to be anything below this except a bed of old papers,’ throwing the envelope on the ground as she spoke. May picked it np, ‘ Amy ! ’ she cried, ‘ stop a minute ! It’s very queer, but I do think this is annt’s handwriting. ‘Why, it’s impossible!’ pouncing on the envelope. * I can't believe it Let me see. Why. it really is ! That is aunty’s unmistakable P. Well, if it isn’t queer that we should light upon it. May, an idea strikes me. Do yon recollect that great heap of old papers which aunty threw away last spring, when she put the old secretary in order ! Wouldn’t it be strange if it was thrown into the dust barrel and dumped here ? ’ ' Lot us dig and see 1 ’ said May, quite excited.

Dig they did, and their search was rewarded by the discovery of a heap of envelopes, old notes, and letters, and bills torn across, all directed to Miss Iselin or in her unmistakable handwriting. May’s impulse and Ben Allen's was simply curiosity and the stimulus of lighting on an unexpected thing; but some sadden thought lent to Amy’s efforts a keener zeal. Her cheeks blazed, her eyes were bright with excitement, as the tamed over the papers, opening, examining and shaking each with an eagerness so intense as to make the others smile. No smallest scrap escaped her notice. Suddenly she stopped, and stood as if turned to stone, staring incredulously at a paper which she had just lifted; a thick, longlsh sheet, folded in three. So strange was her aspect, and so agitated her features, that May cried ont, in alarm : ‘Amy, don’t look so 1 What is it ?’

Amy triad to apeak, but choked in the attempt. She put the paper into May’s hand, and, after a little struggle, burst into a flood of uncontrollable tears. Ben, much alarmed, pat his arm about her. She leaned her pretty head on his shoulder and sobbed quietly; while May, after a moment’s pause, burst into exclamations,

‘ Aunty’s will! Oh I Amy, didn’t I always say that she made one ? Oh ! Amy, dear, isn’t it wonderful ? How did it come here ? Oh, Amy ! ’ And with the third repetition of her sister’s name she too began to cry, Ben seized the paper, while the two girls hung over his shoulders. It really was Miss Iselin’s will, drawn np, as the handwriting proved, by old Mr Allen, about five years before, and duly signed and attested. Ben rapidly glanced over the instrument, It’s provisions were simple enough. All that the testatrix died po-isossed of was bequeathed, without reservation, to her beloved nieces, May Eleanor Iselin and Amy Dysart Iselin. There was no mention whatever of the obnoxious Elisha, the benefioiary of the first will. Ben gave a shout of joy as he finished, waved the paper over his head, and cried : * Habemus ? ’ ‘ls it really aunty’s will ? ’ questioned Amy. ‘Really her will.’ * And is it legal ? la the dear old house really ours—May’s and mine ? ’ ‘The old house, and all within it, dear.’ ‘ Oh, Ben 1 ’ Amy’s head went down on his shoulder, in a new burst of joyful tears. And, somehow, it was never exactly explained, Ben’s head went Jlower and lower. Amy looked up. Their eyes met. Ha kissed her, and May even did not seem shocked. ■All yonrs, including the broken jar,’ added Ben, jokingly, perhaps to hide the fine color which had rushed into his manly cheeks. ‘Oh ! the jar. I had quite forgotten the blessed old thing. We shall never find the broken bits now, I suppose. And, somehow I don’t care, since wa have found something so much more valuable. Dear, dear aunty, I knew hadn’t forgotten us. I was sure it was a mistake. May, If yon read this in a book, would you over believe a word of it ?’ ‘Never! It is a great deal too improbable to bo put into a book. Storywriters wouldn’t dare ; it is so much too good to be true. The strangest things are those which happen ont of books.’ For a moment the three stood silently looking at the paper In Ben’s hand. How much it meant to them all, that bit of paper! To the girls it represented homo, comfort, society, the continuance of sweet old ties, oaso o mind, all things good and pleasant. To Ben it was a shining mirror, from which the face of his future bride looked out and smiled. Ho folded up the will. Its rnstle was better than song. * Let ua go home,’ said May, softly. *lt seems more like home to me now than it ever has done since aunty died.’ So the breakage of the Japanese jar did prove a * blessing in disguise’ to our sweet little heiresses, after all.