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merest gossip of the world should accuse him of Anne was silent; but Grace said, in a faint low having paid court to the heiress from interested tone, “What can you mean? Surely this is very motives.
sudden?'' All that Anne surmised was true ; true now to a “ The decision is sudden,” Clement said, greater extent than she suspected. The regard “though I have had the idea for some time in my which Clement Burton felt for Miss Middlehammind. The fact is, that I find this kind of work on their first acqnaintance had grown with their telling upon me, and I have long been desirous for daily intercourse, and had at last attained such a change. I think I explained to you, Miss Midproportions as rendered it necessary for him to dleham, that my own inclination did not lead me take some decisive step. What that step should to my profession, and that I only took to it from be required in his mind but short consideration. necessity. I have nothing to complain of my suc
The feelings with which Anne had accredited cess in it, and it has made me many kind friends ; him existed even more vividly than she had ima but I rather pine for freedom, and now there is a gined, and though he would have given all that chance of obtaining it." he possessed to call Grace his wife, he feared to A dead silence ensued, to break which Anne declare himself to her, lest his motives should be said, “You are not going then to pursue your misunderstood. In the course of his experience profession abroad, Mr. Burton ?" he had frequently heard stories of doctors per- "No," he said, as though suddenly recalling verting the confidence which had been placed in himself from a dream. “ The fact is, that a patient them professionally to their own private ends, and of mine, and a kind friend as well, has received the mere idea, that such an accusation should be the appointment as governor to one of the West brought against him, filled him with horror and India islands. He takes me out with him as his dismay. Better trample out the fire which was secretary, and promises me that my work shall be consuming him and go away, leaving no sign. It nominal, and that I shall have plenty of time for was time the present condition of affairs should any literary or scientific pursuits which I may cease; and he set himself to work to bring about choose to indulge in." the end.
Stiil Grace was silent; but Anue said, in a hard When Mr. Burton's mind was once made up, voice, “ The temptation is a great one-when do he was prompt in action, and three days after his you go?" determination he presented himself at the Hermi. "My friend thinks of sailing in about ten days' tage. The friends were in the drawing-room-time, but nothing is as yet decided. He only Miss Middleham at work, while Anne was reading made me the offer last night, and you are the first to her. After the ordinary commonplaces, Cle- to whom I have communicated it." ment said, in as gay a tone as he could assume, “We ought to be greatly obliged to Mr. Burton " I have come to make a little revelation, which, for his selection of us to share his confidence, I think, will surprise, and which I am selfish ought we not, Grace?" said Anne. “Come, dear, enough to hope may grieve you."
you have promised me a drive to Richmond this Both the girls looked up instantly; Grace in morning, and the best of the sunshine will be lost astonishment, Anne with an odd prescience of what if we delay.” Then Grace, managing to regain was coming.
her self-possession, said a few words, and Ir. Anne was the first to speak. 'Something Burton took his leave. which will grieve us ?" she repeated.
That was a silent drive to Richmond, for each “I hope so," said Clement. “Odd though it of the ladies was too much immersed in her own may sound, I hope that the interest you both take thoughts to speak. The shock which Miss Midin me is sufficient for you to be sorry to hear that dleham had received at the announcement of CleI am going to leave you."
ment Burton's intended departure, and the conseThe usual color fled from Grace's cheeks as she quent alteration in her whole life; the loss of some said, “ To leave us, Mr. Burton; you dont't thing which she looked forward to from day to day, for long, I suppose ?"
the breaking up of that delightful communing which “For long? Certainly,” he replied ; “possi- she regarded as the principal solace of her life, had bly for life."
been almost too much for her. Whatever dreams
she had indulged in seemed now to be hopelessly to him, and that in demanding her hand he would shattered. He could never have cared for her, or be behaving honorably, his motive being beyond he would not have allowed himself to be carried question, he would only too gladly obey the sugaway on so comparatively slight a pretext. All gestion. As for Grace, to bring her lover to her
, the kindness and attention, then, which he had feet would be recalling her to life. Here was a paid her, had been prompted by friendship, way, then, Anne thought, of repaying all the nothing more; and, imputing no blame to him, friendship which she had received at Grace's Grace owned she had cruelly deceived herself. hands; and when she remembered the devotion exFrom every one, even from Anne, she tried to istent from their school days, and, even at that hide any expression of her feelings, but this was present moment, manifest in each of Grace's beyond her control ; and as she lay back in the words and acts towards her, she felt that, though carriage, recalling the pleasures of the past, and her own immolation was a part of the scheme, she mourning over the flight of the happiness which could yield herself up without a murmur. she had anticipated in the future, tears of disap- That night Anne Studley wrote to Mr. Burton pointment, scarcely hidden by her veil, rolled a note, requesting him to call and see her the down her cheeks.
next morning, as she wished particularly to conHer companion was equally silent, equally pro- sult him. He was not to mention having received occupied, and if her eyes were dry, her mind, at the note, and, if he saw Miss Middleham, was to least, was as much disturbed. The story which make it appear to her that his visit was an ordishe had heard Clement Burton tell that morning, nary one. Just before the time when she expected and the scene which she had witnessed, were, to the young surgeon, Anne Studley took Grace her, ample confirmation of what she had long sus- with her into the morning-room, out of which, pected. She now was certain that the young sur- through heavy velvet portiéres, opened a pretty geon had found himself unable any longer to go little conservatory filled with exotics, and with a quietly through the ordinary routine of life, and fountain plashing in its midst. As they were sithe constantly in the presence of his idol, without ting idly talking, the conversation being mostly declaring himself. To avow his passion and ask carried on by Anne-for Grace was meditative her hand would be, according to his supersensi- and preoccupied-Mr. Burton was announced. tiveness, an act of meanness and disloyalty, and “Stay, Jennings,” said Anne to the servant, he had, therefore, sought for this appointment as a quickly, “one minute before you let him in. means of escape from the dilemma. His heart Grace, dear, I have a particular desire you
should was breaking at the idea of separating from Grace, not see Mr. Burton this morning; at all events, but it was, in his opinion, the voice of honor until I have spoken to him upon some very imwhich bade him go, and he hesitated not. Nor portant business of my own." had Anne any longer any doubt, if such had ever The blush was on Grace's face in an instant. possessed her mind, that her friend returned Cle. “What can I do?” she said, “if I go out I shall ment Burton's affection. The sudden change in meet him in the hall." her appearance wheri Clement announced his de- “ Step into the conservatory,” said Anne; parture; her altered demeanor ever since; the “you can pass through and go out by the other half-hysterical state in which, though she strove to door. Now, Jennings, show Mr. Burton in." disguise it, she then was-all showed that she was But when Grace tried the outer door of the passing through no ordinary trial.
conservatory, she found it locked on the outside, And, above all Anne felt herself called upon to and as Mr. Burton was already in the room, she make the crowning sacrifice of her life, by stifling was compelled to remain in hiding. for ever the deep attachment she had silently nour- “ You see I have obeyed your commands, Miss ished, and solving the difficulty which existed be- Studley," was Clement's salutation, “and I am tween those two. It could be done, she thought-here." the misunderstanding could be at once removed- " It was very good of you to come,” said if she only had the courage to efface herself, and to Anne, quietly; " but I think, before our interact as interpreter between them. If Clement view is ended, you will see the necessity for my could be persuaded that Grace was really attached somewhat apparently brusque summons. You
used to say,” she added, with a slight color ris- tate to accept it and to throw your fine feelings to ing, but fading as suddenly as it came, “in the the winds." old days, when I was Mrs. Gaynor-you used to “You scarcely know what you are saying, Miss say that one of my chief merits was frankness." Studley," said Clement, quietly.
“I never knew you to be otherwise than thor- “ Do I not?” said Anne; “I think I do. I oughly frank and thoroughly trustworthy,” he think anyone before whom the circumstances were said.
brought would not hesitate to decide with me “And you will find, I hope, that those qual-that, however much you may imagine yourself to ities have not deserted me. In all I am going to be in love, in the course which you propose to say to you now I shall be thoroughly frank—too take you are selfishly preferring your own ease ad frank for politeness, perhaps, but not for truth; comfort, and the improvement of your position, certainly not too frank, considering how very to the love which you profess to feel." nearly the happiness of one so dear to me is con- Clement Burton rose from his chair and stood cerned."
before her, hat in hand. “You told me that you He started, and looked at her keenly. “I am
“I am would be frank, Miss Studley, and I expected afraid I do not comprehend you, Miss Studley," plain speaking from you ; but I was, I confess, he said.
but little prepared for the turn which your obsct. “I think you do," she replied, quietly; "or, vations have taken. This is the first, and it must at all events, have some glimmering of what I be the last, time on which this subject shall ever mean. Mr. Burton, you love my friend, Grace be mentioned between us. My frankness, there Middleham!”
fore, shall be as great as your own, and I hope : He started, and cried, in an excited tone, will have the effect of leaving a different iinpres. “What makes you think that?''
sion on you. You have guessed rightly that I “My own observation; my own intuitive know. love Miss Middleham, but how deeply I love her ledge," she said.
you will never know. For that love I am pre“I am not answerable for your own observa pared—nay, I am about to sacrifice what is to me tion, nor for your intuitive knowledge, Miss the whole pleasure of existence-being with her, Studley. I can only say that such knowledge the seeing and hearing her, the breathing the air could never have been derived from anything she breathes, the knowledge that this delight is to which I have ever said-or done."
be renewed from day to day-for that love I am “ You may have your words and actions under giving up the practice, to secure which I have command, Mr. Burton," she replied, “and yet toiled early and late, and the prospects which are involuntarily have given me reason to suspect opening before me; and I do this, I keep sile.se what I have just averred. You love Grace Mid before her, and leave her presence for ever withdleham, I repeat !”
out having breathed one word of my hopes, bc“And what if I do?" he cried, suddenly. cause I will not have it said that I, the poor “It is not a confession which I should have vol-surgeon, made use of my professional opportuci. untarily made; and yet, inexplicable as my hesi- ties to gain the confidence of the wealthy heiress tation may seem to you, it is one in which I for my own purposes. If Miss Middleham hal
herself been poor, I should, months ago, have put “And yet, for the sake of improving your posi- to her the question which my heart had been tion, you would readily forsake her?”'
so long troubled, and asked her to become my “For the sake of improving my position !” he wife.” cried.
He spoke with trembling lips and pallid checks. “Is it not so?" said Anne, scornfully. "You When he had come to an end he made a buw, pretend to yourself that you love this girl, and and was turning away, but Anne caught himn by yet, when the opportunity offers for you to get rid the arm. of the profession which you never liked, and of “ Don't you think it fair?" she said, "that which you are thoroughly wearied—when you see Miss Middleham should know the state of your a chance of easily obtaining change of scene, and feelings-should have an opportunity of answerof leading a more congenial life, you do not hesi. I ing that question?"
“She shall never have it from me,” said Cle- seen him very often, for he is one of our most ment, with a sigh.
eminent surgeons, and his practice is enormous. " But suppose she has had it already," said His wife, who is very pretty and much admired, Anne, drawing aside the curtain, and pointing to wants him to retire, but he seems to be too much where Grace stood, her blushing face covered interested in his work. Mr. and Mrs. Burton are with her hands. Suppose I have given her the the active and generous patrons of a prosperous . chance of hearing and answering, don't you think institution for training hospital nurses, at the head it will be worth while to get her reply from her of which is Anne Studley, who devotes all her own lips?"
time to the institution. She lives in the house,
and personally superintends an imbecile woman Clement Burton did not take up his appoint with a useless right arm, who sings very sweetly, ment as secretary to the West India governor, but and is happy in her mindless way, looking to remained in London, where you have perhaps , Anne for everything, as a dog looks to its master.
THE FLAG, THE ELM, AND THE OAK.1
Upon the birth of liberty, one hundred years ago,
The thirteen stars, by Washington, dismembered from the When reigning royal colors fell in final overthrow,
crown, We had provincial flags above our ships and jolly tars; Whilst, in his might and majesty, he hurls the tyrant down, But no grand Aag, red, white and blue, adorned with thir. Forsake their ancient prison as the massive door unbars
Before the flag, red, white and lue, adorned with thir
We had our grand old Treaty Elm, arrayed in royal suit,
Then sell the royal fag below the field of blue and bars,
And nations hailed the insant flag, adorned with thir. We had our Pilgrim Fathers' Aag, the first of all the free,
teen stars. With battle colors on the land and pennants on the sea; And flags without a field of blue, and flags without the bars, Our flag from liberated masts unfurled and kissed the breeze, But no grand fag, red, white and blue, adorned with thir. And streaming o'er the ocean, tamed the “ mistress of the
And opened paths of glory through the sailing world of tars, The royal colors flying o'er the ships with hated tea,
As master flag, red, white and blue, adorned with thirFirst paled as went the Hyson down, drank by the thirsty sea, And quailed when flames around the hull, the rigging and the spars,
Qur fathers' flag, red, white and blue, with thirteen stars, we Foretold the flag, red, white and blue, adorned with thir- bind
Around their precious memories and sainted bones, en
shrined; The sudden blast at Salem blown, embraced extended range, Then, demon of fraternal strife, that all its beauty mars, And lashed the waves of thought that move the master wheels Dare not the flag, red, white and blue, adorned with thirThen prophecies, in harmony, without discordant jars, Foreran the flag, red, white and blue, adorned with thir- Ye free and equal North and South that met the common
On long-disputed grounds of blood one hundred years ago, Our slint and steel at Lexington, that sundered the last tie Unite in one grand brotherhood, without fraternal jars, Between the King and Colonies, and cast the final die;
Around the flag, red, white and blue, adorned with thir. And mounds thrown up on Bunker Hill as monuments to
teen stars. Proclaimed the flag, red, white and blue, adorned with thir. Our rising stars, before we count, one hundred years again,
Will scale the Heights of Abraham, and sweep the Spanish
Main; At leng:h, from fadeless gildings on the canvas of the sky,
The Queen of the Antilles, too, o'er her triumphal cars, Our fathers then conceived a Hag whose birth was from on
Will raise the flag, red, white and blue, adorned with thirWith stags upon the azure field, and white and crimson bars, Appeared the fag, red, white and blue, adorned with thir
1 We are indebted to our friend, W. T. R. Saffell, for these lines.
NOTES AND QUERIES.
An Incident of Lafayette's Visit in 1824.—Mr. Titian | will find their accounts in the hands of some person, id R. Peale mentioned an interesting scene he witnessed. When will collect them in a more fashionable way, but more expen Lafayette was entering Philadelphia, while visiting this sive.
JAMES JOHN5*' country in 1824, going up Chestnut street, just as he came Thus we see that subscribers and advertiser were, hante near Independence Hall, every window was filled with badly-made coffee, slow to settle nearly a hundred year ago ladies and gentlemen, who, as he approached, greeted him we Note the fact for the gratification of their followers with “ Hail to the Chief,” sung with such a joyous, heartfelt the present day.
WILLIAM T. WALLAC expression that the General instantly stopped the carriage and there was a sudden silence, which for a moment dashed
Author Wanted.-Can any reader of the Y 17HTI the singers, as they expected only to greet him in passing, for supply the ode of which the following is one stanza, ab. which they had practiced until there was a perfect accord, by whom it was written? and an effect so grand when the many voices with great
“Oh! I can gaze, and think it quite a treat, enthusiasm sang out the words, that the General was sur
So they be old, on buildings grim and shably;
I love within the church's walls to greet prised, and rising stood with head uncovered, evidently delighteil. The welcome was so touching when with renewed
Some 'olde man' kneeling, bearded like a rabie, servor they sang each verse with a glorious outburst of,
Whe never prays himsell, but has a whim feeling, that the good Lafayette was quite overcome by it.
That you'll.orate,' that is—prayye' for him."
I have lately met this verse quoted without credu. E sounds familiar, though I can't recall the piece or the alla
Mary C. SHIRIY. Washington, Master of Masonic: Lodge at Alex
The Editor would make a similar request for the pro andria- Dates, Wanted.-In NotES AND QUERIES for February it is stated that the chair occupied by Washington and its author's name in which occurs this verse :
“ There is an hour of deep repose as Worshipful Master of the Masonic Lodge at Alexandria, Virginia,” is in possession of the Edenton, North Carolina,
That yet upon my heart will close, Lodge. Is there not some mistake here?
When all that nature dreads and knows Washington Master of that Lodge? I would be glad to have
Shall burst upon me wondrously. the dates. If it is possible for any of your readers to give
Oh! may I then awake for ever the exact dates, it may aid in removing doubts as to the
My harp to rapture's high endeavor, correctness of the statement.
And, as from earth's vain scene 1 sever,
Be lost in Immortality." Charles Peale Polk.-In the March MONTHLY, page
When was the name “ Long K'nives" first applied bis 227, you state that Charles Polk painted an original portrait Indians to white men ? of Washington “at Valley Forge." On page 235, same number, the same thing is stated under the heading
Lady Washington's Lament.-Can any of our rezpm torical Society of Pennsylvania." On page 372 of May supply a song that used to be sung by everybwly out! MONTHLY, Mr. William H. Polk says that Charles Peale was a child ? It was called "Lady Wasbington's Lancer, Polk“ died in 1822, aged 56." If this is a fact, then he was and began, born in 1766, and was therefore only twelve years of age in “ Saw ye my Hero? Saw ye my Hero, George? 1778, when Washington was at Valley Forge. He could not Then came a response, have painted the pictures in question at that tender and in- " I saw him on the plain—the battle just tegan." experienced age. Query, Is Charles Polk and Charles Peale
To my childish imagination, the tender Larly was 120] : Polk one and the same person? That Charles Peale Polk wildly, with hair flying, in search of the great tean, as. did paint in 1799 the Madison and Jefferson portraits men- song always set us to weeping. tioned by me in the April Monthly, is a fact attested by
I used always to hear people call Mesdames W20h'note : his well-known signature on the back of the paintings, but it
and Knox, Lady Washington, and Lady Kno. E.V... is not likely that the same person painted Washington's portraits in 1778. Will Mr. W. H. Polk please give us more A Word of Apology and a Word of Thanks. - 16 light on this subject.
W. T. R. SAFFELL. are compelled by the pressure of Centennial matter to mi
“ The Records of Societies" this month, but hope to bar Delinquent Debtors Warned. – In the Connecticut up for this omission hereafter. We beg to return our here Courant of June 2, 1784, we find the following:
thanks to the Virginia Historical Society for the honor item “ TAKE NOTICE, DEBTORS
have bestowed upon us by making us a "Conego, For Newspapers to the Subscriber,
Member" of their honorable fraternity. This is the last time of asking in this way; all those who Our artist having disappointed us, we are competir t" settle their accounts by the 18th of June, instant, will have omit our fac-simile from the old Sexon Calendar for 1.2* the thanks of their humble servant; and those that neglect, but shall give it, with accompanying Nore, in July,