Puslapio vaizdai
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passenger with a "hail-fellow-well-met " air-then I immediately coil myself up in my corner in horror and dread, for I know only too well what is coming! I know that he will soon begin in a loud and dictatorial voice to tell me about what Lord Darby did, sir, and what he ought not to have done, sir; and where Russia was wrong, and Turkey right, and, by George, sir, what we, as true-born Englishmen, ought to do now, sir! I, Tifkins Thudd, Esq., do hereby solemnly aver that I would infinitely rather travel amongst the crocodiles and alligators of African climes than with such fearful bores as one meets but too often in railways, and I grieve to add-now-in tram cars. To be shut up without hope of escape in a carriage with one of these red-hot declaimers is a punishment far beyond any sin that I have committed, although I fear I am certainly no better than some of my neighbours. There is another very fearful bore, too, but he is usually met with in second or third-class compartments of railway trains; he I have already described is usually in the firstclass. The second bore is a man of an unwashed appearance, with extremely dirty nails, and a very bulgy cotton umbrella, with an obtrusive handle. He generally singles you out if you happen to have on clean linen, and, after staring at you for some time, he begins. If you are of moderate youth he will address you as Young man." If a little older he will say, "Sir." I have even known the bolder of them to say, "Ah, sinner!" Whatever form of address he may use, it preludes the drawing forth of a dirty piece of printed paper which he solemnly hands to you, and then commences to make some highly objectionable and offensive remarks about your "wallowing in the paths of sin," or something of the kind.

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This bore is worse than the other, for he brings into burlesque matters which should only be approached with due and proper reverence. There is, however, no disease without a remedy, and I will tell you how to

debilitate both species. Let us take the political bore first-this is the best way to serve him. Listen most intently to all he says until he gets intensely strong in his argument, then watch for a moment's pause, and meekly ask a question miles away from the subjectthus :

War Gentleman, vehemently-" I say, sir, that Lord Darby was wrong-that Lord Darby made a mistake -that Lord Darby ought to have gone to war six months ago-that-ah-what-"

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Myself "I beg your pardon-but is it true that there has been a dullness in 'grey shirtings?" " War G., intensely astonished-" What say-eh-grey -eh, what-?"

Myself" Grey shirtings--I fear also there will be a fall in flannels, particularly pink goods- and I heard to-day that the market for frying pans, and indeed hard goods-"

This is generally quite enough for the war correspondent, who with a vacant stare and imbecile-" Eh, what?" sinks back and says no more.

The remedy for the second bore is easy enough. He is generally vulgar and ignorant, and if you tackle him upon his own ground, and cross-question him about his own theories, he flops at once into the slough of despond, and flounders there so hopelessly that not even the united strength of a strong and riotous "peace" meeting in Hyde Park could pull him out!

Lisnamore.

LARGE, cold-looking white house, gleaming in the pale, bright beams of a spring sun, and

lonely-looking as a solitary, stately statue, stood Lisnamore, on Inchgore Point, in one of the beautiful northern Irish lakes. The soft greensward, like a gigantic velvet cushion, sloped gradually to the water's edge, where it was fringed by trees, now just bursting into little green knots, soon to expand under the genial influence of the sun and make a leafy shade, under which grateful lovers and loungers may rest; but at present having their poor bare arms and twigs reflected in all their spare nakedness, trembling and shivering in the clear deep lake.

"And that is Lisnamore!"

The speaker is a fair-haired girl, who, sitting in a boat, is resting on her oar, and gazing up at the house with an almost anxious scrutiny.

"Yes, that is Lisnamore."

"What do you think of it?" asks her companion, a girl of quite a different type, black-haired, brightcoloured, with eyes like stars of deep dark blue.

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"I think it looks cold, stately, and uncomfortable; like a grand dame who keeps all common folks at a distance, whom one admires but never loves."

"Come, Ella, I will not have you forming hasty, fanciful judgments of Lisnamore. I can tell you it is a particularly comfortable, nay, charming, place at times; at least it was, and I hope it will be again-some day."

"Why did you hesitate and then say some day,' Kathleen ?"

"Because it has been shut up three years, and we do not know when Paul Monroe will come back, or if he ever will come here again,"

66 Why should he not; is there a story, and is it a secret ?"

"There is a story, but it is no secret. I can't tell it you now, it is too cold for us to sit here like this; take your oar, we will go as far as Long Island and then home. That will be far enough for you, though you are getting on, and will be quite an experienced oarswoman before the summer comes."

The girls pulled with a will, and presently re-passing the house, Ella says

"Well, Katty, it does not look old enough or grey enough to have a very dreadful story hanging to it."

"It is a sad one, though," says Katty; and no more is said on the subject till after dinner, when Ella reminds Katty that there is a story to be told, and suggests that it be told now by the firelight, while they are sure of a quiet half-hour, as Mr. Strange and his son, Kathleen's father and brother, cannot be home till eight or half-past.

"You know, or rather you do not know, that my brother and I were almost always with the Monroes when we were children. Either they were here or we were there every day as long as they were at Lisnamore, which was generally about eight months in the year. When I was about ten years old my mother died, and Mrs. Monroe was kinder than ever to me, keeping me there whenever Papa was away, and, in fact, trying in every way to replace, as far as she could, my dear mother. Ellen Monroe and I were the very opposite in appearance and character, but we loved each other dearly; while Fred, who was two years our senior, teased or helped us in our games as his mood suggested; and Paul, three years older, when at home, was our ideal of what a man ought to be. He taught us to row, to ride, to drive, helped us with our tasks, and never taunted us with being girls, as Fred did sometimes. As time went on we saw less of each other, at least, I saw

less of them. Archie and Fred were at the same school, and when I was fifteen Mr. Monroe died. That year they did not come to Lisnamore, but the next they came, soon after Paul was of age, because Papa thought he ought to come among his tenants.

"Mrs. Monroe was very much changed, but after the first few days seemed to have got over her dislike to the place, and settled down to her old ways. The poor welcomed her for many miles round, for she was a Lady Bountiful to them, though to some people cold and stately enough.

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"Ellen had much to tell of what she had done, and what she hoped to do. She was to come out next season, and determined to shine. She, like her mother, was tall, fair, and stately, and had really worked hard at her studies, so was far in advance of most girls of her age, and, to me, a marvel of accomplishments. Fred was just as handsome, but with a sunnier temperament. He had the knack of making everyone like him ; whenever or wherever he appeared, smiles greeted him. was the life of every party, the first in every scheme of pleasure, and his mother's idol. Paul seemed to have grown older and graver than he ought to be; perhaps his father's sudden death had much to do with it, for I know Papa often said he seemed very sensible of his responsibilities, as the head of the family, and anxious to fulfil them. He was not handsome, like the others, but was tall, and well-built, and had the kindest pair of brown eyes I ever saw. We had a very pleasant summer, Ellen and I, and a busy one, for her steady perseverance induced me to try and improve in my studies also, until, with the autumn, came an invitation from Papa's sister for me to come to her for a year or two to have the advantage of masters. Unwillingly, Papa consented, stipulating that I should come home for my holidays twice a year, and Ellen and I took leave of each other, promising to write regularly. I saw her

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