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114 YOTJNO remove the too visible down from his , It was not to despoil him the stranger had >. out to add to the contents of the valisa a parcel iKue up in brown paper. Then the valise was again locked, the key restored to the toilet table; and after the keen eyes had given one swift glance at the unconacious sleeper, the intruder stepped outside the window, fastening it with a glittering instrument inserted between the sashes, and then, like a bird of ill omen, the figure ascended slowly, the rope itself followed, and the moonlight streamed in uninterruptedly, while Zedekiah Crawford slept on, all unconscious of the shadow which had crept into hi3 hitherto untroubled life with the entrance of that shadowy visitor. CHAPTER V. VASOO MAKES A BOLD ASSERTION. Breakfast was over at the vicarage—a homely family meal, to which even the twins were admitted; for the vicar and his wife were homely, sensible peop'e, and had not forgotten the pinching of their early life, when Mr. Prettyman was only curate to the former vicar. Mrs. Prettyman herself was the daughter of a baronet, and yet she made one of the best manager and best wivea possible to find. She married for love of the genuine kind, and went in cheerfully for helping her husband instead of encumbering him. Thanks were returned for the meal; Jessie and Geoffrey clambered down from their high chairs, and rushed to "the window to see if the weather permitted of their usual run in the garden before mamma gave them lessons. Polly poured warm water in a basin, and very carefully washed up the silver spoors and butter- knife before placing them iu the sideboard drawer, while Mr. and Mrs. Prettyman listened to Dudley giving an amusing account of the strange boy from America. " I wonder how Misa Crawford will put up with him," said Mra. Prettyman, when he concluded. " I'm afraid hia stay will be a short one at the Manor House." "I am rather disposed to like the boy," remarked the vicar. "I knew hia father well at college. He was an honest, gentlemanly fellow—in the true sense of the word, I mean, Dudley," he said, looking at hia son. " I hope you will try and be friendly with him. No wonder he thought little of his reception. I had no idea Lilian would be so foolish." "That Hindoo nurse has filled her mind with fooiish fancies," remarked Mrs. Prettyman. " Our Polly fancy, too, mamma," said Jesaie, looking round from the window. " Polly does," said Geoffrey, nodding sagaciously, and quite blind to his sister's crimson cheeks and imploring looks, or the grimace made by Arthur. " How does Polly fancy?" asked Mrs. Prettyman, smiling and looking at the twins. The boy hesitated, noting the look on his brother's face and Polly's-ftaming cheeks; but Jessie, girl like, went on with tho details. " Polly eat up a fishy, ebery bit, bones and tail. We was sleepin' when she corned in." " Yes, we was sleepin', she thought, but I wakened up and woke Jessie," chimed In Geoffrey, once the story was fairly started, eager to put in his word. " And she never gived mo a bit when I asked her." " Not a bit, an' we was hungry," added Geoffrey. " I really think you must be dreaming, children," said Mrs. Prettyman, looking at Polly. " No, we's not; for Dud came in and shouted out about that boy he called Zed " " 'Kiah, dat's it," put in Jessie. " An' Polly Said she dreamt about him at mornin', an' wondered if she'd be him wife." " And we's had to wait for water to wash in," said Geoffrey, complainingly, "for Polly drinked all the jugful up." " She said the fishy inside was firsty," added Jessie, laughing. No one could resist the infection of that laugh— even the vicar himaelf joinedun; and in the midst of the fun the door opened, and the housemaid informed the vicar that old Jemmy Muggeridge wanted to speak with him. Mr. Prettyman went out ti> meet the sexton in the room called his study, while Mrs. Prettyman questioned Polly. " I only ate a fish, mamma. Mrs. Macdonald said if I'd eat one before going to bed I should dream of my future husband." Polly blushed painfully as she made this confession, while Dudley and Arthur went about the room uneasily, hoping she would not betray the secret. "I sutpose it ia an old Scotch superstition," said Mrs. Prettyman. "To think of you being so silly as to eat a whole red herring ! it was enough to kill you. And, by the way, you had-a dream, too. Let me near it;" and as she said this the lady smiled. " I only thought I heard Dudley ahouting in my ear, ' Get up, Polly; Zedekiah Crawford wants you.' I suppose it was because he spoke of him to me the last thing before I slept." " Of course. Above all things, Polly, avoid super- stition; it shows an extremely uneducated mind. The lower the race, the more full of superstition " Jessie and Geoffrey here became impatient to get out, and Mrs. Prettyman opened the French window and charged them to avoid the damp grass, and run only on the paths. Polly gladly made her escape from the room, satisfied that her mother had not asked where she got the herring, but had taken it for granted that it came out of their own kitchen. Dudley and Arthur collected their books, strapped them together, and aaid good morning to their mother previous to setting out for Raby Hall—a celebrated school for young gentlemen, about two miles distant from the vicarage. They were about to open the hall door just as Jemmy Muggeridge came from the study, followed by the vicar. " It ain't no nonsense, sir. I'll take my oath o' it on the book." " It ia remarkable what people can see," said tho vicar, smiling good-naturedly, " particularly when they have a bilious attack. You were drinking aome of that herb beer you brew yourself, I daresay." " Well, yes, sir, I did hev a swill o' it. But it's mortial wholesome, sir, an' cleansin' for the stomach." " I'll be with you part of the way, boys," said the vicar to his two sons, who lingered at the door, as Jemmy assisted him on with hia long overcoat, and he donned his soft felt hat. "No doubt, if there. were a pair of ghosts, as you say," he said to Jepimy, " some one else has seen them. I'll make inquiries." " They might an', they mightn't, sir," said Jemmy, as together they left the hall door. " I think it was you I saw last night coming out of sthe Jolly Farmer, Jemmy," said Dudley; " it was clear moonlight, and you carried a lamp all the same." The vicar smiled. " It was me, Master Dudley ; an' if you mean to say I was the worse o' drink you've made a mistake, that's all. It was before that I saw the first o' the ghosts." " Why, how many did you see?" asked Arthur. "First he saw two in his own house," replied the vicar, still smiling. " Then it seems he couldn't sleep after leaving the hostelry, so ho and hia two friends visited the cottage first—when you saw them, no doubt—and then turned out and walked all the way to Raby Hall, still keeping the lantern alight to find more ghosts, if possible; and it seems they met another one, dresaed in sbme grey garments. It glided past- them, Jemmy can swear, without ever touching the gi*ound. He saya it had no feet." " No more it had, sir." The boys were'delighted. This waa the first offspring of their trick, and the credulity of the villagers promised them no end of amusement. " I'll drop in and have a talk with you when I come back, Jemmy," said the vicar, as they passed the old man's cottage. " I have a few visits to make." " Very well, sir. You'll not fin' any trace o' the ghosts." "I believe the old fellow has been the worse for drink, boys," said Mr. Prettyman, as he crossed the village green with hia sons. " I'm about to call on the landlord and learn what state Jemmy was in when he got there. Afterwards, I have little doubt but he was as nearly drunk as a man can be to keep his feet. I am very sorry, for I thought he had quite given up his bad habita." The vicar turned into the hoatelry, and his sons hastened on to school. "I wonder if Zedekiah Crawford will como this morning?" asked Arty. He was anxious to see the stranger. " I don't think it's at all likely," replied Dudley. " He'll want to have a rest after his journey first. But wasn't it good—Lily walking all the way, and hearing no name till she heard his?" " Yes; and our Polly dreaming about him, too! It's all nonsense, for he can't marry them both." " Of course it's nonsense. Girls are always full of that. He doesn't think much of Lily, anyhow," said Dudley, meditatively. " He'll soon grow to like her, then," affirmed Arty, confidently, " for no one could help it." The elder brother made no reply to this, but fell into a train of thought, and only answered Arty's remarks in monosyllables. They were passing the private way leading up to the Manor House, when some one rushing down in hot haste almost upset Dudley. He came to a sudden pause. " I beg your pardon, sir, but we're all in a muddle at the 'ouse, and I'm a-goin* to fetch your par." " What'a wrong, Dick?" asked both boys, eagerly. " Mrs. Macdonald she sent me, an' says she, ' Run for your life an' fetch the vicar. A robbery's been done, and the innercent's a-sufferin' for the guilty.' " "la that all you know about it?" said Dudley. " Then I advise you to run. You'll be likely to find the vicar at your father's cottage. He saw ghosts last night, too. It has been a curious night." " That it have, Maister Dudley. An' father saw ghosts? Well, I'm Mowed !" And with these words he set off down the hill towards the village at a breakneck pace, while the two boys went very reluctantly to school, for they were eager to learn what robbery could have taken place at the Manor House. . Being day boarders, some hours would elapse before their curiosity could be gratified. They pleased them- aelvea, however, by fancying all sorts of improbabilities till they reached school and set to work in earnest. It waa rather later than usual when the family met at the breakfast-table in tho Manor House. Fch once Misa Crawford waive 1 her punctuality, and sat talking with Lily and waiting for her nephew. Ho was no doubt tired after hia journey, and the clang of the breakfast-bell would be sure to awake him. She was mistaken, however, for it was a gentle knock at the door, and the friendly butler's voice, which first aroused tho weary boy. Then he hurried with his toilet and presented himself in the breakfast- room. "Only fifteen minutes late, after all," said Miss Crawford, amiably, as she aeated heraelf at table and Lily rang the bell. " I hope you slept well." " I slept better than I have done since I left home," said Zedekiah, modestly. He was looking earnestly at Lily. Somehow, he thought to himself, she was a very different girl this morning; certainly not at all rude, but quiet and ladylike. " I suppose there is something in this house being your papa's home," remarked Lily, gravely. " Vasoo says no one is ever perfectly contented till they reach their real home—that, is, the home of the greatest man or woman of their race." " Vasoo talks -a great lot of dreamy, fanciful nonsense," said Miss Crawford, as sho poured out the coffee. " I guess it would puzzle her to tell which had most great people among them, my mother's family or my father's. I suppose whichever aide had the greatest man or woman among them would be the one I'd feel moat at home with." " It wouldn't puzzle Vasoo to tell you or any one. She would judge by whichever parent you resemble moat; and aunt says you are like your father, so that accounts for your feeling at home here." " There ia something, perhaps, in such feelings we cannot understand," said practical Miss Crawford, "and I don't care to fancy." "I like plain, open sailing, too," said Zedekiah. "And that yellow woman's an odd fish. I caught her looking at me as if she could stab me with her eyes. You remember, when I followed you in from the verandah, Lily." Lily started slightly on hearing her American cousin pronounce her name ; but she replied : " That is Vasoo's manner with strang'ers. She is suspicious of every one except those ahe knows well; but she is good—very good, indeed. I hope you may come to like her some day as I do." "I think she is a harmless woman," said Miss Crawford, "so far as a heathen can be harmless; but, indeed, I never felt a8 if I cared for her being under the same roof with me. Lily, however, ia ao fond of her, and my poor brother made a point that she should be kept here, so here she is, and is likely to remain all her days." " I hope so, auut," said Lily, earnestly. "By the way, Lily, which family are you most like?" asked Zedekiah. "Not the Crawi'orJs, I calculate." " No, unfortunately, she is not," said Miss Crawford, coldly, for this was a sore point with her. • Lily's cheeks flushed and her eyes sparkled as she replied, proudly: " I am like, very like, my mother, Vasoo says ; and she was a princess—only daughter to a rajah.'' Zedekiah smiled as he replied, carelessly: "•Better try to be a respectable English girl, and cut connection with the heathens ; they'ro a bad lot. Look at the Indian Mutiny, and what thoy did upon English women and children." " No doubt; but look what the English did in India—a country civilized when English people wero naked savages," said Lilian. [No. 670. 1 " There, there,',' Sily, say no more. I know you are only talking for sake of argument." " I like my aunt and ray English home," said Lily, sweetly. " for I have never known any other." " And I hope you won't know another "—and Zedekiah looked at her earnestly—"for this is a home any one might be happy in." " I like to hear you say that, Zedekiah," said Miss Crawford, warmly. " You're like your father, open- hearted and honest, and so like him in the face. I can fancy almost that I am young again, and poor Sam before me aa he used to be." A pang of something like pain shot through the girl's heart as her aunt spoke : it was not exactly jealousy, and yet it closely resembled it; and somehow her thoughts turned to tho Hindoo woman whose devoted affection was altogether her own, and who would, she felt certain, lay down her life to save her from trouble. "I'm proud to think you can put up with a rough fellow like me, aunt. If only my cousin could be frienda with me, I should ba happy aa the day's long ;" and Zedekiah looked towards Lily. " Of course she is a friend to her cousin," said Miss Crawford, looking reprovingly at the girl. " She's honest, and she knows she ain't over and above fond of me," he said. Lily laughed. " Well, not over and above, I suppose ; but I like you very well for so far ; in time I may get to like you better." There was a knock at tho door, and before Miss Crawford got out the words, " Come in," Smith, the butler, came forward, exclaiming : " Ob, miss, she's mad—mad as a March hare, runnin' all over the 'ouse, talkin' of 'er gibberish. She says as we're all a set of robbers an' thieves. I'm blest but 'ere she is !" So she was, looking like a mid woman ; her black hair hanging about her face in wild disorder, and her scarf folded carelessly about her head. Misa Crawford , in alarm, rose to her feet; Lilian went over to the excited woman to learn what waa the matter, while Zedekiah looked at her in a cool fashion, secretly fancying that either she was making believe or had really gone mad. No wonder Miss Crawford and the servants were alarmed, for in all the years of her residence at the Manor House, Vasoo had never been known to leave her own suite of apartments. " It is gone—gone !—and I guarded it night and day—night and day!" sho exclaimed, wringing her hands. "What is gone? Pray speak plainly," said Miss Crawford. " If you can," put in Zedekiah, with a smile. The woman, in her excitement, darted a vengeful look at him, as she replied : " I knew it—I knew evil thread ened our house." She paused; then, as if gathering courage to make the announcement, ahe exclaimed, in impressive tones: " The golden bangles are stolen !" There was a dead hush for a moment. Lily recoiled a step from the woman, and turned pale; Misa Crawford looked troubled, and the butler put on an offended air. Zedekiah was the first to break the silence. He laughed; for as he looked at the woman, he could not help thinking that she was a good actress, and, like an inspiration, it occurred to him that she had made away with the article herself; so he said, still smiling : "Don't you think you may have overlooked the things? I guess you have stowed them away too well, and can't find them now ; but they'll turn up in time, I'll be bound." Vasoo seemed as if she had not heard a word ; but, turning to Miss Crawford, she said, in a commanding tone: " I demand that the house be searched—every servant in it and every one. Her fate depends upon it— even her life." She spoke the last words in a low, impressive tone. " The servants are all honest, I feel certain," said Miss Crawford. "That they be, miss. Not one on 'em would meddle with them 'ere heathenish things, not if they was worth a hundred poun' !" said Smith, triumphantly. " I feel every confidence in them," went on Miss Crawford; "but I am sure not one of them will object to a complete search, if that will satisfy you." " That is all I ask, madam," said the woman, in a strangely quiet tone. " If the bangles affect my fate, or my life even," said Lily, her voice trembling with excitement, " I would not care to have any search made. I am sure no soul in this house would be mean enough to steal them." " Bravo, Lily! You're a brick !" exclaimed Zedekiah. "And I am sure some one in this house baa stolen them," said Vasoo, impressively. [to be continued.] [This tale commenced in NTn. (J88. i?f\ok numbers can nlwaya be had; post free, three-halfpence each.] EDUCATING ZUXTJS. An educator of the children of civilized parents is anded by their desire to know and by their tendency to imitate. But an educator of savages receives no such help from hia pupila. They don't want to know, and they don't care to imitate the white man's way. The educator is forced, therefore, to descend to the plane of their simplest physical wants. The following narrative shows how low the educator descends in order to lift his savage pupils up : The Rev. William Mellen, who has spent some time in Zululand, says that it is very hard to instruct the Zulus, because they want nothing. " They crawl into their low huts, lie down on a mat with their feet to the central fire, and sleep with their heads on blocks. That is their height of happiness, and their hearts desire nothing more. "They at first look upon clothes of all kinds as impediments, and in square houses with several rooms feel lost and uneasy. We first teach them the benefits of a hat. They feel the heat of the sun upon their heads, and hold up their shields for shade. A hat is to them a shield which fits the head. " I find that if a man wants ono thing and has it supplied, he straightway wants two or three things more. Soon our negro wants boots to protect his feet from the sharp stones, and the wearing of a shirt reconciles him to the use of light clothing. " He may be the bearer of a letter from one missionary to another, and he marvels exceedingly that the man seems to be talking with the paper while it talks with him. He then wants to know if the paper enn talk, and how it can do so is explained to him. He now feels an intellectual want, and ia taught to read and write. " We then talk to him of heaven, and he wishes to know how he can get there. Ho nevor thought of such a thing before, but he now feels a spiritual want, and it is supplied." TO A CANARY. WHEREFORE, birdie, in thy cage, Such grim warfare dost thou wage "With the bars, as though in rage That thou'rt no lonser free ? Tiny, flntt'ring, foolish thing, Art thou yearning to take wing, In thy native clime to sing, O'er yon pellucid sea ? Silly, yellow mite, to chafe I Dost tbon know not when thou'rt safe ? Wonldst thou ba a homeless waif— An aimless wami'rer—tree? Nay ! nay 1 Better far, I think, Here to stay, with food and drink, With thy song to forge a link Of love, 'twixt thee and me ! Thou art like some changeful mind, Longing to bo nncoufined ; But, when free, thou yearnst to find Some home to shelter thee! Rest in peace, sweet bird, and sing Summer, Autumri, Winter, Spring, Making sorrow grim take wing, When hov'ring over me ! John P. Hareingtok. THE BLACK ARROW. A TALE OF TUNSTALL FOREST. By CAPTAIN GEORGE NORTH, Author of " Treasure Island," &o. CHAPTER XXX. THE BATTLE OF SHOREBY (CONCLUDED). ^^vV ICK, once more left to hia own counsels, began to look about him. The arrow-shot had somewhat slackened. On all sides the enemy were falling back; and the greater part of the market-place was now left empty, the snow here trampled into orange mud, there splashed with gore, scattered all over with dead men and horses, and bristling thick with feathered arrows. On hia own side the losa had been cruel. The jaw3 of the little atreet and the ruins of the barricade were heaped with the dead and dying; and out of the hundred men with wl.om he had begun the battle, there were not seventy left who could still stand to arms. At the same time, the day waa pasaing. The firat reinforcements might be looked for to arrive at any moment; and the Lancastrians, already shaken by the result of their desperate but unsuccessful on- alaught, were in an ill temper to support a fresh invader. There was a dial in the wall of one of the two flanking housea ; and this, in the frosty, winter sunshine, indicated ten of the forenoon. Dick turned to the man who was at his elbow, a little, insignificant archer, binding a cut in hia arm. " It was well fought," he said, " and, by my sooth, they will not charge us twice." "Sir," said the little archer, "ye have fought right well for York, and better for yourself. Never hath man, in so brief space, prevailed so greatly on tho duke's affections. That he should have entrusted such a poat to one he knew not ia a marvel or a miracle. But look to your head, Sir Richard ! If ye be vanquished—ay, if ye give way one foot's breadth— axe or cord shall punish it; and if ye do aught doubtful, I will tell you honestly I am set here to stab you from behind." Dick looked at the little man in amaze. "You!" he cried. " And from behind !" "It is right so," returned the archer; "and because I like not the affair, I tell it you. Ye must make the post good, Sir Richard, at your peril. Oh, our Crookback is a bold blade and a good warrior ; but, whether in cold blood or in hot, he will have all things done exact to his commandment. If any fail or hinder, they shall die the death." " Now, by the saints !" cried Richard, " is this so? And will men follow such a leader ?" "Nay, they follow him gleefully," replied the other; "for if he be exact to punish, he is most open-handed to reward. And if he spare not the blood and sweat of others, he ia ever liberal of his own—still in the first front of battle, still the last to sleep. He will go far, will Crookback Dick o' Gloucester!" The young knight, if he had before been brave and vigilant, was now ali the more inclined to watohful- neaa and courage. Hia audden favour, he began to perceive, had brought perila in its train. And he turned from the archer, and once more scanned anxiously the market-place. It lay empty as before. " I like not this quietude," he said. " Doubtless they prepare us some surprise." And, as if in answer to his remark, the archers began once more to advance against the barricade, and the arrows to fall thick. But there was something hesitating in the attack. They came not on roundly, but seemed rather to await a further signal. Dick looked uneasily about him, spying for a I danger. And sure enough, about half way up the little street, a door was suddenly opened from within, and the house continued, for some seconds, and both by door and window, to disgorge a torrent of Lancastrian archers. The: e, as they leaped down, hurriedly stood to their ranks, bent th tr 1>ows, and proceeded to pour upon Dick's rear a flight of arrows. At the same time, the assailants in the marketplace redoubled their shot, and began \o close in stoutly upon the barricade. Dick called down his whole command out of the houses, and, facing them both ways, and encouraging their valour both by word and gesture, returned as best he could the double shower of shafts that fell about his post. Meanwhile house after house was opened in the street, and the Lancastrians continued to pour out of the doors and leap down from the windows, shouting victory, until the number of enemies upon Dick's rear was almost equal to the number in his face. It was plain that he could hold the post no longer ; what was worse, even if he could have held it, it had now become useless ; and tho whole Yorkist army lay in n posture of helplessness upon the brink of a complete disaater. The men 1 ehind him formed the vital flaw in the general defence ; and it was upon these that Dick turned, charging at the head of his men. So vigorous was the attack that the Lancastrian archers gave ground and staggered, and, at laat, breaking their ranks, began to crowd back into the houaea from which they had so recently and so vaingloriously sallied. Meanwhile the men from the market-place had swarmed across the undefended barricade, and fell on hotly upon the other side ; and Dick must once again face about, and proceed to drive them back. Once again the spirit of hi* men prevailed ; they cleared the street in a triumphant style, but even as they did so* i -
Object Description
Title | Young folks paper : v. 23, no. 670 : including Black Arrow |
Creator | Stevenson, Robert Louis, 1850-1894 |
Date | 1883-10-04 |
Publisher | J. Henderson |
Source | Roy Collection; AP201 .Y783 |
Subject | Children's literature--Periodicals.; Scotland--History--18th century--Fiction. |
Description | Weekly issue of Young Folks Paper, including chs. 30 and 31 of The Black Arrow |
Digital Collection | Robert Louis Stevenson's The Black Arrow in Young Folks Paper |
Website | fill in later |
Contributing Institution | University of South Carolina. Irvin Department of Rare Books and Special Collections |
Rights | Images are to be used for educational purposes only, and are not to be reproduced without permission from the Irvin Department of Rare Books and Special Collections, University of South Carolina, SC 29208. |
Language | English |
Digitization Specifications | 400ppi, 24-bit depth color, Zeutschel OS 14000 A0 overhead scanner with Zeutschel Omniscan scanning software, Archival Master file is a TIFF |
Date Digital | 2016-07 |
Type | Text |
Format | image/jpeg |
Media Type | Newspaper |
Identifier | rlsba670 |
Digital Assistant | Victoria Stiefel |
Description
Title | Page 114 |
Creator | Stevenson, Robert Louis, 1850-1894 |
Date | 1883-10-04 |
Publisher | J. Henderson |
Source | Roy Collection; AP201 .Y783 |
Subject | Children's literature--Periodicals.; Scotland--History--18th century--Fiction. |
Description | Weekly issue of Young Folks Paper, including ch. 30 of The Black Arrow |
Digital Collection | Robert Louis Stevenson's The Black Arrow in Young Folks Paper |
Website | fill in later |
Contributing Institution | University of South Carolina. Irvin Department of Rare Books and Special Collections |
Rights | Images are to be used for educational purposes only, and are not to be reproduced without permission from the Irvin Department of Rare Books and Special Collections, University of South Carolina, SC 29208. |
Language | English |
Digitization Specifications | 400ppi, 24-bit depth color, Zeutschel OS 14000 A0 overhead scanner with Zeutschel Omniscan scanning software, Archival Master file is a TIFF |
Date Digital | 2016-07 |
Type | Text |
Format | image/jpeg |
Media Type | Newspaper |
Identifier | rlsba670-114 |
Transcript | 114 YOTJNO remove the too visible down from his , It was not to despoil him the stranger had >. out to add to the contents of the valisa a parcel iKue up in brown paper. Then the valise was again locked, the key restored to the toilet table; and after the keen eyes had given one swift glance at the unconacious sleeper, the intruder stepped outside the window, fastening it with a glittering instrument inserted between the sashes, and then, like a bird of ill omen, the figure ascended slowly, the rope itself followed, and the moonlight streamed in uninterruptedly, while Zedekiah Crawford slept on, all unconscious of the shadow which had crept into hi3 hitherto untroubled life with the entrance of that shadowy visitor. CHAPTER V. VASOO MAKES A BOLD ASSERTION. Breakfast was over at the vicarage—a homely family meal, to which even the twins were admitted; for the vicar and his wife were homely, sensible peop'e, and had not forgotten the pinching of their early life, when Mr. Prettyman was only curate to the former vicar. Mrs. Prettyman herself was the daughter of a baronet, and yet she made one of the best manager and best wivea possible to find. She married for love of the genuine kind, and went in cheerfully for helping her husband instead of encumbering him. Thanks were returned for the meal; Jessie and Geoffrey clambered down from their high chairs, and rushed to "the window to see if the weather permitted of their usual run in the garden before mamma gave them lessons. Polly poured warm water in a basin, and very carefully washed up the silver spoors and butter- knife before placing them iu the sideboard drawer, while Mr. and Mrs. Prettyman listened to Dudley giving an amusing account of the strange boy from America. " I wonder how Misa Crawford will put up with him," said Mra. Prettyman, when he concluded. " I'm afraid hia stay will be a short one at the Manor House." "I am rather disposed to like the boy," remarked the vicar. "I knew hia father well at college. He was an honest, gentlemanly fellow—in the true sense of the word, I mean, Dudley," he said, looking at hia son. " I hope you will try and be friendly with him. No wonder he thought little of his reception. I had no idea Lilian would be so foolish." "That Hindoo nurse has filled her mind with fooiish fancies," remarked Mrs. Prettyman. " Our Polly fancy, too, mamma," said Jesaie, looking round from the window. " Polly does," said Geoffrey, nodding sagaciously, and quite blind to his sister's crimson cheeks and imploring looks, or the grimace made by Arthur. " How does Polly fancy?" asked Mrs. Prettyman, smiling and looking at the twins. The boy hesitated, noting the look on his brother's face and Polly's-ftaming cheeks; but Jessie, girl like, went on with tho details. " Polly eat up a fishy, ebery bit, bones and tail. We was sleepin' when she corned in." " Yes, we was sleepin', she thought, but I wakened up and woke Jessie," chimed In Geoffrey, once the story was fairly started, eager to put in his word. " And she never gived mo a bit when I asked her." " Not a bit, an' we was hungry," added Geoffrey. " I really think you must be dreaming, children," said Mrs. Prettyman, looking at Polly. " No, we's not; for Dud came in and shouted out about that boy he called Zed " " 'Kiah, dat's it," put in Jessie. " An' Polly Said she dreamt about him at mornin', an' wondered if she'd be him wife." " And we's had to wait for water to wash in," said Geoffrey, complainingly, "for Polly drinked all the jugful up." " She said the fishy inside was firsty," added Jessie, laughing. No one could resist the infection of that laugh— even the vicar himaelf joinedun; and in the midst of the fun the door opened, and the housemaid informed the vicar that old Jemmy Muggeridge wanted to speak with him. Mr. Prettyman went out ti> meet the sexton in the room called his study, while Mrs. Prettyman questioned Polly. " I only ate a fish, mamma. Mrs. Macdonald said if I'd eat one before going to bed I should dream of my future husband." Polly blushed painfully as she made this confession, while Dudley and Arthur went about the room uneasily, hoping she would not betray the secret. "I sutpose it ia an old Scotch superstition," said Mrs. Prettyman. "To think of you being so silly as to eat a whole red herring ! it was enough to kill you. And, by the way, you had-a dream, too. Let me near it;" and as she said this the lady smiled. " I only thought I heard Dudley ahouting in my ear, ' Get up, Polly; Zedekiah Crawford wants you.' I suppose it was because he spoke of him to me the last thing before I slept." " Of course. Above all things, Polly, avoid super- stition; it shows an extremely uneducated mind. The lower the race, the more full of superstition " Jessie and Geoffrey here became impatient to get out, and Mrs. Prettyman opened the French window and charged them to avoid the damp grass, and run only on the paths. Polly gladly made her escape from the room, satisfied that her mother had not asked where she got the herring, but had taken it for granted that it came out of their own kitchen. Dudley and Arthur collected their books, strapped them together, and aaid good morning to their mother previous to setting out for Raby Hall—a celebrated school for young gentlemen, about two miles distant from the vicarage. They were about to open the hall door just as Jemmy Muggeridge came from the study, followed by the vicar. " It ain't no nonsense, sir. I'll take my oath o' it on the book." " It ia remarkable what people can see," said tho vicar, smiling good-naturedly, " particularly when they have a bilious attack. You were drinking aome of that herb beer you brew yourself, I daresay." " Well, yes, sir, I did hev a swill o' it. But it's mortial wholesome, sir, an' cleansin' for the stomach." " I'll be with you part of the way, boys," said the vicar to his two sons, who lingered at the door, as Jemmy assisted him on with hia long overcoat, and he donned his soft felt hat. "No doubt, if there. were a pair of ghosts, as you say," he said to Jepimy, " some one else has seen them. I'll make inquiries." " They might an', they mightn't, sir," said Jemmy, as together they left the hall door. " I think it was you I saw last night coming out of sthe Jolly Farmer, Jemmy," said Dudley; " it was clear moonlight, and you carried a lamp all the same." The vicar smiled. " It was me, Master Dudley ; an' if you mean to say I was the worse o' drink you've made a mistake, that's all. It was before that I saw the first o' the ghosts." " Why, how many did you see?" asked Arthur. "First he saw two in his own house," replied the vicar, still smiling. " Then it seems he couldn't sleep after leaving the hostelry, so ho and hia two friends visited the cottage first—when you saw them, no doubt—and then turned out and walked all the way to Raby Hall, still keeping the lantern alight to find more ghosts, if possible; and it seems they met another one, dresaed in sbme grey garments. It glided past- them, Jemmy can swear, without ever touching the gi*ound. He saya it had no feet." " No more it had, sir." The boys were'delighted. This waa the first offspring of their trick, and the credulity of the villagers promised them no end of amusement. " I'll drop in and have a talk with you when I come back, Jemmy," said the vicar, as they passed the old man's cottage. " I have a few visits to make." " Very well, sir. You'll not fin' any trace o' the ghosts." "I believe the old fellow has been the worse for drink, boys," said Mr. Prettyman, as he crossed the village green with hia sons. " I'm about to call on the landlord and learn what state Jemmy was in when he got there. Afterwards, I have little doubt but he was as nearly drunk as a man can be to keep his feet. I am very sorry, for I thought he had quite given up his bad habita." The vicar turned into the hoatelry, and his sons hastened on to school. "I wonder if Zedekiah Crawford will como this morning?" asked Arty. He was anxious to see the stranger. " I don't think it's at all likely," replied Dudley. " He'll want to have a rest after his journey first. But wasn't it good—Lily walking all the way, and hearing no name till she heard his?" " Yes; and our Polly dreaming about him, too! It's all nonsense, for he can't marry them both." " Of course it's nonsense. Girls are always full of that. He doesn't think much of Lily, anyhow," said Dudley, meditatively. " He'll soon grow to like her, then," affirmed Arty, confidently, " for no one could help it." The elder brother made no reply to this, but fell into a train of thought, and only answered Arty's remarks in monosyllables. They were passing the private way leading up to the Manor House, when some one rushing down in hot haste almost upset Dudley. He came to a sudden pause. " I beg your pardon, sir, but we're all in a muddle at the 'ouse, and I'm a-goin* to fetch your par." " What'a wrong, Dick?" asked both boys, eagerly. " Mrs. Macdonald she sent me, an' says she, ' Run for your life an' fetch the vicar. A robbery's been done, and the innercent's a-sufferin' for the guilty.' " "la that all you know about it?" said Dudley. " Then I advise you to run. You'll be likely to find the vicar at your father's cottage. He saw ghosts last night, too. It has been a curious night." " That it have, Maister Dudley. An' father saw ghosts? Well, I'm Mowed !" And with these words he set off down the hill towards the village at a breakneck pace, while the two boys went very reluctantly to school, for they were eager to learn what robbery could have taken place at the Manor House. . Being day boarders, some hours would elapse before their curiosity could be gratified. They pleased them- aelvea, however, by fancying all sorts of improbabilities till they reached school and set to work in earnest. It waa rather later than usual when the family met at the breakfast-table in tho Manor House. Fch once Misa Crawford waive 1 her punctuality, and sat talking with Lily and waiting for her nephew. Ho was no doubt tired after hia journey, and the clang of the breakfast-bell would be sure to awake him. She was mistaken, however, for it was a gentle knock at the door, and the friendly butler's voice, which first aroused tho weary boy. Then he hurried with his toilet and presented himself in the breakfast- room. "Only fifteen minutes late, after all," said Miss Crawford, amiably, as she aeated heraelf at table and Lily rang the bell. " I hope you slept well." " I slept better than I have done since I left home," said Zedekiah, modestly. He was looking earnestly at Lily. Somehow, he thought to himself, she was a very different girl this morning; certainly not at all rude, but quiet and ladylike. " I suppose there is something in this house being your papa's home," remarked Lily, gravely. " Vasoo says no one is ever perfectly contented till they reach their real home—that, is, the home of the greatest man or woman of their race." " Vasoo talks -a great lot of dreamy, fanciful nonsense," said Miss Crawford, as sho poured out the coffee. " I guess it would puzzle her to tell which had most great people among them, my mother's family or my father's. I suppose whichever aide had the greatest man or woman among them would be the one I'd feel moat at home with." " It wouldn't puzzle Vasoo to tell you or any one. She would judge by whichever parent you resemble moat; and aunt says you are like your father, so that accounts for your feeling at home here." " There ia something, perhaps, in such feelings we cannot understand," said practical Miss Crawford, "and I don't care to fancy." "I like plain, open sailing, too," said Zedekiah. "And that yellow woman's an odd fish. I caught her looking at me as if she could stab me with her eyes. You remember, when I followed you in from the verandah, Lily." Lily started slightly on hearing her American cousin pronounce her name ; but she replied : " That is Vasoo's manner with strang'ers. She is suspicious of every one except those ahe knows well; but she is good—very good, indeed. I hope you may come to like her some day as I do." "I think she is a harmless woman," said Miss Crawford, "so far as a heathen can be harmless; but, indeed, I never felt a8 if I cared for her being under the same roof with me. Lily, however, ia ao fond of her, and my poor brother made a point that she should be kept here, so here she is, and is likely to remain all her days." " I hope so, auut," said Lily, earnestly. "By the way, Lily, which family are you most like?" asked Zedekiah. "Not the Crawi'orJs, I calculate." " No, unfortunately, she is not," said Miss Crawford, coldly, for this was a sore point with her. • Lily's cheeks flushed and her eyes sparkled as she replied, proudly: " I am like, very like, my mother, Vasoo says ; and she was a princess—only daughter to a rajah.'' Zedekiah smiled as he replied, carelessly: "•Better try to be a respectable English girl, and cut connection with the heathens ; they'ro a bad lot. Look at the Indian Mutiny, and what thoy did upon English women and children." " No doubt; but look what the English did in India—a country civilized when English people wero naked savages," said Lilian. [No. 670. 1 " There, there,',' Sily, say no more. I know you are only talking for sake of argument." " I like my aunt and ray English home," said Lily, sweetly. " for I have never known any other." " And I hope you won't know another "—and Zedekiah looked at her earnestly—"for this is a home any one might be happy in." " I like to hear you say that, Zedekiah," said Miss Crawford, warmly. " You're like your father, open- hearted and honest, and so like him in the face. I can fancy almost that I am young again, and poor Sam before me aa he used to be." A pang of something like pain shot through the girl's heart as her aunt spoke : it was not exactly jealousy, and yet it closely resembled it; and somehow her thoughts turned to tho Hindoo woman whose devoted affection was altogether her own, and who would, she felt certain, lay down her life to save her from trouble. "I'm proud to think you can put up with a rough fellow like me, aunt. If only my cousin could be frienda with me, I should ba happy aa the day's long ;" and Zedekiah looked towards Lily. " Of course she is a friend to her cousin," said Miss Crawford, looking reprovingly at the girl. " She's honest, and she knows she ain't over and above fond of me," he said. Lily laughed. " Well, not over and above, I suppose ; but I like you very well for so far ; in time I may get to like you better." There was a knock at tho door, and before Miss Crawford got out the words, " Come in," Smith, the butler, came forward, exclaiming : " Ob, miss, she's mad—mad as a March hare, runnin' all over the 'ouse, talkin' of 'er gibberish. She says as we're all a set of robbers an' thieves. I'm blest but 'ere she is !" So she was, looking like a mid woman ; her black hair hanging about her face in wild disorder, and her scarf folded carelessly about her head. Misa Crawford , in alarm, rose to her feet; Lilian went over to the excited woman to learn what waa the matter, while Zedekiah looked at her in a cool fashion, secretly fancying that either she was making believe or had really gone mad. No wonder Miss Crawford and the servants were alarmed, for in all the years of her residence at the Manor House, Vasoo had never been known to leave her own suite of apartments. " It is gone—gone !—and I guarded it night and day—night and day!" sho exclaimed, wringing her hands. "What is gone? Pray speak plainly," said Miss Crawford. " If you can," put in Zedekiah, with a smile. The woman, in her excitement, darted a vengeful look at him, as she replied : " I knew it—I knew evil thread ened our house." She paused; then, as if gathering courage to make the announcement, ahe exclaimed, in impressive tones: " The golden bangles are stolen !" There was a dead hush for a moment. Lily recoiled a step from the woman, and turned pale; Misa Crawford looked troubled, and the butler put on an offended air. Zedekiah was the first to break the silence. He laughed; for as he looked at the woman, he could not help thinking that she was a good actress, and, like an inspiration, it occurred to him that she had made away with the article herself; so he said, still smiling : "Don't you think you may have overlooked the things? I guess you have stowed them away too well, and can't find them now ; but they'll turn up in time, I'll be bound." Vasoo seemed as if she had not heard a word ; but, turning to Miss Crawford, she said, in a commanding tone: " I demand that the house be searched—every servant in it and every one. Her fate depends upon it— even her life." She spoke the last words in a low, impressive tone. " The servants are all honest, I feel certain," said Miss Crawford. "That they be, miss. Not one on 'em would meddle with them 'ere heathenish things, not if they was worth a hundred poun' !" said Smith, triumphantly. " I feel every confidence in them," went on Miss Crawford; "but I am sure not one of them will object to a complete search, if that will satisfy you." " That is all I ask, madam," said the woman, in a strangely quiet tone. " If the bangles affect my fate, or my life even," said Lily, her voice trembling with excitement, " I would not care to have any search made. I am sure no soul in this house would be mean enough to steal them." " Bravo, Lily! You're a brick !" exclaimed Zedekiah. "And I am sure some one in this house baa stolen them," said Vasoo, impressively. [to be continued.] [This tale commenced in NTn. (J88. i?f\ok numbers can nlwaya be had; post free, three-halfpence each.] EDUCATING ZUXTJS. An educator of the children of civilized parents is anded by their desire to know and by their tendency to imitate. But an educator of savages receives no such help from hia pupila. They don't want to know, and they don't care to imitate the white man's way. The educator is forced, therefore, to descend to the plane of their simplest physical wants. The following narrative shows how low the educator descends in order to lift his savage pupils up : The Rev. William Mellen, who has spent some time in Zululand, says that it is very hard to instruct the Zulus, because they want nothing. " They crawl into their low huts, lie down on a mat with their feet to the central fire, and sleep with their heads on blocks. That is their height of happiness, and their hearts desire nothing more. "They at first look upon clothes of all kinds as impediments, and in square houses with several rooms feel lost and uneasy. We first teach them the benefits of a hat. They feel the heat of the sun upon their heads, and hold up their shields for shade. A hat is to them a shield which fits the head. " I find that if a man wants ono thing and has it supplied, he straightway wants two or three things more. Soon our negro wants boots to protect his feet from the sharp stones, and the wearing of a shirt reconciles him to the use of light clothing. " He may be the bearer of a letter from one missionary to another, and he marvels exceedingly that the man seems to be talking with the paper while it talks with him. He then wants to know if the paper enn talk, and how it can do so is explained to him. He now feels an intellectual want, and ia taught to read and write. " We then talk to him of heaven, and he wishes to know how he can get there. Ho nevor thought of such a thing before, but he now feels a spiritual want, and it is supplied." TO A CANARY. WHEREFORE, birdie, in thy cage, Such grim warfare dost thou wage "With the bars, as though in rage That thou'rt no lonser free ? Tiny, flntt'ring, foolish thing, Art thou yearning to take wing, In thy native clime to sing, O'er yon pellucid sea ? Silly, yellow mite, to chafe I Dost tbon know not when thou'rt safe ? Wonldst thou ba a homeless waif— An aimless wami'rer—tree? Nay ! nay 1 Better far, I think, Here to stay, with food and drink, With thy song to forge a link Of love, 'twixt thee and me ! Thou art like some changeful mind, Longing to bo nncoufined ; But, when free, thou yearnst to find Some home to shelter thee! Rest in peace, sweet bird, and sing Summer, Autumri, Winter, Spring, Making sorrow grim take wing, When hov'ring over me ! John P. Hareingtok. THE BLACK ARROW. A TALE OF TUNSTALL FOREST. By CAPTAIN GEORGE NORTH, Author of " Treasure Island," &o. CHAPTER XXX. THE BATTLE OF SHOREBY (CONCLUDED). ^^vV ICK, once more left to hia own counsels, began to look about him. The arrow-shot had somewhat slackened. On all sides the enemy were falling back; and the greater part of the market-place was now left empty, the snow here trampled into orange mud, there splashed with gore, scattered all over with dead men and horses, and bristling thick with feathered arrows. On hia own side the losa had been cruel. The jaw3 of the little atreet and the ruins of the barricade were heaped with the dead and dying; and out of the hundred men with wl.om he had begun the battle, there were not seventy left who could still stand to arms. At the same time, the day waa pasaing. The firat reinforcements might be looked for to arrive at any moment; and the Lancastrians, already shaken by the result of their desperate but unsuccessful on- alaught, were in an ill temper to support a fresh invader. There was a dial in the wall of one of the two flanking housea ; and this, in the frosty, winter sunshine, indicated ten of the forenoon. Dick turned to the man who was at his elbow, a little, insignificant archer, binding a cut in hia arm. " It was well fought," he said, " and, by my sooth, they will not charge us twice." "Sir," said the little archer, "ye have fought right well for York, and better for yourself. Never hath man, in so brief space, prevailed so greatly on tho duke's affections. That he should have entrusted such a poat to one he knew not ia a marvel or a miracle. But look to your head, Sir Richard ! If ye be vanquished—ay, if ye give way one foot's breadth— axe or cord shall punish it; and if ye do aught doubtful, I will tell you honestly I am set here to stab you from behind." Dick looked at the little man in amaze. "You!" he cried. " And from behind !" "It is right so," returned the archer; "and because I like not the affair, I tell it you. Ye must make the post good, Sir Richard, at your peril. Oh, our Crookback is a bold blade and a good warrior ; but, whether in cold blood or in hot, he will have all things done exact to his commandment. If any fail or hinder, they shall die the death." " Now, by the saints !" cried Richard, " is this so? And will men follow such a leader ?" "Nay, they follow him gleefully," replied the other; "for if he be exact to punish, he is most open-handed to reward. And if he spare not the blood and sweat of others, he ia ever liberal of his own—still in the first front of battle, still the last to sleep. He will go far, will Crookback Dick o' Gloucester!" The young knight, if he had before been brave and vigilant, was now ali the more inclined to watohful- neaa and courage. Hia audden favour, he began to perceive, had brought perila in its train. And he turned from the archer, and once more scanned anxiously the market-place. It lay empty as before. " I like not this quietude," he said. " Doubtless they prepare us some surprise." And, as if in answer to his remark, the archers began once more to advance against the barricade, and the arrows to fall thick. But there was something hesitating in the attack. They came not on roundly, but seemed rather to await a further signal. Dick looked uneasily about him, spying for a I danger. And sure enough, about half way up the little street, a door was suddenly opened from within, and the house continued, for some seconds, and both by door and window, to disgorge a torrent of Lancastrian archers. The: e, as they leaped down, hurriedly stood to their ranks, bent th tr 1>ows, and proceeded to pour upon Dick's rear a flight of arrows. At the same time, the assailants in the marketplace redoubled their shot, and began \o close in stoutly upon the barricade. Dick called down his whole command out of the houses, and, facing them both ways, and encouraging their valour both by word and gesture, returned as best he could the double shower of shafts that fell about his post. Meanwhile house after house was opened in the street, and the Lancastrians continued to pour out of the doors and leap down from the windows, shouting victory, until the number of enemies upon Dick's rear was almost equal to the number in his face. It was plain that he could hold the post no longer ; what was worse, even if he could have held it, it had now become useless ; and tho whole Yorkist army lay in n posture of helplessness upon the brink of a complete disaater. The men 1 ehind him formed the vital flaw in the general defence ; and it was upon these that Dick turned, charging at the head of his men. So vigorous was the attack that the Lancastrian archers gave ground and staggered, and, at laat, breaking their ranks, began to crowd back into the houaea from which they had so recently and so vaingloriously sallied. Meanwhile the men from the market-place had swarmed across the undefended barricade, and fell on hotly upon the other side ; and Dick must once again face about, and proceed to drive them back. Once again the spirit of hi* men prevailed ; they cleared the street in a triumphant style, but even as they did so* i - |
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