LITERATURE.

Globe, Volume XXIII, Issue 2335, 27 September 1881, Page 4

LITERATURE.

OUR TWO BQUISEB. THS .STORY OF A LOJTC FEtTD. ( Concluded ) Chatter 11. We were a merry party round the luncheon table at tho Lodge, for Richard Polwhele was accustomed to keep Christmas right royally, and, besides his own family, nephews and nieces of every degree, and friem.l* from far and nenr wore gathered round his hospitable board. Luncheon being ended, a ducussion avosr as to how we should employ tho interval brfore tho important hour of dinner, the dinner, which was to bo the crowning g'o-y of tho Christmas festival. Some one suggested skatirjg, and tho idea was at onco hailed with acclamation. Polworthy Pool, a piece o' w.\ter almost within a strue's throw of the Lodge, was frozen over, and afforded a capital skating ground. Every avai'able pair of skates were speedily in requisition. There w a genera' ru<h for greatcoatn, sealskin jackets, muffs, furs, warm glovep, aid woollen comforters. CTnelo Dick was led captive by a conple of pretty rieces, one of whom took possession of each arm ; snd looking )iko a miniature Arctic expedition, we sallied forth to the po^l. On our arrival there we found a large number of skaters a"d sliders a'ready in possession, and tho fun soon grow fast and furious. Those of ua who were not lucky

enough to have seoured skates conEolei ourselves by criticising the performances of thoee who had, and delioatply suggesting, with moro >r loss foundation, how much better wo should acquit curaelves in their place Great was our delight at diicovering that a particularly dandy cousin, Vavasour Tremayne, who was the proud possessor cf the very ncvest thine; in acmes, and who had been holding forth with scientific minuteness on Borcad - eagles and figures of eight, couldn't sk te a bit, but stood still on the 30rgt'ou3 acmes, unable to ,70 backwards or forwards, finally flopping into a sitting posture, tho picture of despair. Some of us, for lack of skates, pocketed our dignity and went in for the mild exciteof a good long slide, ' keeping the pot aboiling ' with tremendous energy. Some instituted piivate rinks in 1 emote corners, and instructed pretty cousins (who were quite certain tht-y should fall, and held very tight accordingly) in the arts and mysteries of the the ice. Among our number were some few rt ally good skaters, who, spurred by noble emulation, executed feats of un-heard-of brilliancy, and speedily found themselves the centre of an admiring crowd, for, either as actors or spectators, nearly the whole of the population had by this time found their way to the pool. The fun was at its height, when Sir Philip Trefusls and his daughter were seen approaching. No one noticed them till they were fairly on the ice, and then we siw with alarm that they were close to a spot where the iee had been broken on the previous day for the convenience of certain dncks and geese, who were the regular inhabitants of the pool, and whloh, though now again frozen over, would certainly not bear the weight of a human being Dncle Philip was the first to perceive their danger. ' Back, back ; the ice is unsafe ! ' he shouted.

Edith Trofusis drew back accordingly, but her father, either not understanding tha warning, or too proud to regard it, maintained his course, and in another instant the ice crashed under his feet, and he disappeared. After a couple of seconds he rose again, and, flinging his arms wildly upwards, with a hoarse cry of ' Help I save me ! ' once moro disappeared, bat this time did not rise again. * Good (iod ! he has gone under the loe ! ' said a voice; and in an Instant all was terror and confusion. Break the ice! ' shouted one. * Fetch a ladder 1' said another.

' Kun for a rope !' exclaimed a third, A score of suggestions, practicable and impracticable, were proffered in a breath ; but the ringing voice of Bichard Polwhele was heard above the tumult.

' Silence all! Dr. Hamlyn, you have a aool head ; you tell them what to do. A gate, quick ; and lay it over the hole !'

Meanwhile, in less time than it takes to tell it, he had divested himself of hat, «oat, and boots: and, without waiting for an answer, plunged into the ice cold water. Twice he dived without aucoess. He had well chosen his aide in the doctor, a quiet unassuming man, but of iron nerves and unlimited resources, and ere he had risen for the second time a couple of gates had been lifted from their hinges and laid one on eaoh side of the hole. A third time he dived; and this time was so long beneath the surface that a dread came over us lest he too should be lost under the Ice. But at last, after what seemed an age of suspense, he was seen to risa onoe more.

' Help ; I'm done 1' he gasped. Dr. Hamlyn, kneellDg on one of the gates, caught his uplifted hand. Strong arms were quickly outstretched to help him. 'No, no; Philip first!' he exclaimed ; and we found that he held Tiefusis in his failing grasp. Under Dr. Hamlyn's directions, they were both, though with difficulty, lifted out and laid upon the bank. Sir Philip was to all appearance beyond earthly help, and a terrible fear oame over him that uncle Diok, who was now insensible, had sacrificed his own life to no purpose. Never were words more welcome than Dr. Hamlyn's assurance that he had only fainted. ' Give bim some brandy, some of you, and rub his hands and feet.'

Eager hands volunteered for the service ; but almost ere they could begin their task he opened his eyes and gazed around.

< What's this ? Ah ! I remember now. But where is Philip?' And shaking himself like a great Newfoundland dog, he rose unassisted to his feet. Sir Philip lay on the groard a few feet off, white and lifelf.es, his daughter weeping on hor knees beside him. Uncle Diok raised her with infinite tenderness.

' Nay. don't weop, pretty one ; bj God's help we'll win him back to life yet. Now, lada, lend a hand. Doctor, bring him to my place. It is a good deal nearer than his own hon3o, and miuutea are precious just now.' Under the doctor'o guidanco coats and rags were laid upon one of the gates ; and on this rude couch the silent form was borno up to the Lodge. Uncle Dick himself led Edith, tenderly patting the little hand which Jay upon hia arm, and whispering cherry words of hope and comfort Quickly we reached the Lodge. A swift footed messenger had been sent on before that all might be in ro&dinees ; and the good doctor at once CJramenced the struggle with tho grim destroyer. For more than an hour the household was hushed in an awful quietness, each hardly daring to speak above a whisper, till that tremendous question should be decided, 'ls it life or death ?' Poor Edith sat weeping apart, each moment adding to her apprehocsion; while Howard, almost equally distressed, vainly endeavored to console her. At last, after what seemed an age of .sgonising dread, ths dcor opened £.ncl unc'.a Dick c.-.me forth, and weni straight to Edith. ' God is good to us, my child ; your father will ! ive.' threw hareolf sobbing on his breast. * O Mr Polwhele, how can I ever thank you for your noble, generous—' « When I'm dryer, my dear, if you don't mind putting it off a little. X begin torea'iae that I'm aiightiy damp; and I think it might be as well bo put on a few dry clothes. Yon shall tell meal! about it at dinner, my child ;' and genily touching her forehead with hia lips, he madu hia escape. Meanwhile, though the rescued man had given to the experienced eye of the doctor the welcome promise of life, there was much sti'l to do to win him back to conscious existence, r.till the resources of skill and science wore applied with unremitting energy ; and afta.- a while tho watchers were rewarded by the patient opening his eyts, aud saying, in a feeble voico, • Lick, dear Dick ! Where's Dick ?—I war..t to speak to Dick." ***** What took place at that interview between the two old friends, so long severed, none knew save themselves ; but when some hours lator r/e gathered round the wellspread board, Philip Trefueis and his daughter sat on either hand o£ our generous ho^t. And scrcly 3uch a dinner never was chronicled. Jc'en and ink would fail me to tell how ths choicest treasures of .Richard Pol whole's cellars, wines of age unknown and unequalled brightness, were brought to light to do fitting honor to the old tender friendship, awakened to new life after a sleep of thirty years. And how the two ancient friands, warmed into youth again under the sunshine of love renewed, vied with each other who should best recall the memory of youthful pranks, and genial recollections of happy boyish days. And how uncle Dick, sitting with Edith's little hand in his, and stroking her silken hair, told her what a gay young dog her father was in those merry daj s; and Sir Philip, not to be behindhand, recounted darinp exploits and hairbreatb 'scapes of which uncle Dick had been the hero. And how coutin Howard, seatrd on the other side of Edith, artfully got possession of her disengaged hand ; and how thtir respective f.-.thers cheerily smiled approval. And how, as, all too soon, ths clock struck twelve, Richard Polwhele stood up, and, hand in hand with his old friend, trolled out. in a rich deep voico, the good o'd song of 'Auld Lang Syne' :

' Should auld acquaintance be forgot, And never brought to mind ? Should auld acquaintance be forgot, And day 3 o' iang syne V And how, when the song was ended, dear old Stephen Pentreath, always an honored guest at this Christmas festival, folded his hands, and with tears in hia happy eyes, said ' For these and all His other mercies, God give no grateful hearts.' Aud with all onr heaits we said ' Amea.'