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.
"You are not to play a part,'' Maud insisted. "Be simply your-*)!
self, and onl}^ refrain from flaunting the stars and stripes in Miss)
Featherstonhaugh's face, and she is sure to like you."
Saint shook her head. " I have m}^ doubts," she said. I
MAUD'S SKETCHING TOUR. 6 1
CHAPTER IV.
maud's sketching tour. first bulletin:— WORCESTER.
AFTER the excitement of the lawn-party quiet settled down upon
Cosietoft. Tom and Dick returned, respectively, to Worcester
and Oxford. Mr. Atchison spent his time chiefly at his mills in Man-
chester; Saint and Maud were on their way to London, and Barbara
was left to her own devices. She was a fine rider, and mounted
upon " Prince Rupert," a dashing black horse, with Harry for her
escort on " Oliver," a rather hard-mouthed gray-coated animal from
Wales, who reminded them in more than one way of the illustrious
Cromwell, for whom he was named, the two explored the charming
reo-ion in every direction. They visited Alton Towers, and rode to
^ . 1 -I •
Buxton, now a fashionable watering-place, fourteen miles distant,
where Mary Qiieen of Scots was once detained under custody of the
Earl of Shrewsbury. She busied herself also with botanical
studies, making a collection of British wild-flowers, in long walks
and climbs over the "tors" or mountains in which the county
abounds. Opposite each flower she wrote in her album some selec-
tion written in its praise by one of the English poets. For the
daisy, for instance, after long debate, she chose Chaucer's lines: —
" I am up and walking in the mead,
To see this flower against the sun spread,
And when that it is eve I run bUthe
As soon as ever the sun sinketh west,
To see this flower how it will go to rest
For fear of night — so hateth she the darkness,
Her cheer is plainly spread in the brightness."
62 THREE VASSAR GIRLS IN ENGLAND.
These late April and early May days were just the season for
angling, and Harry instructed her in the manufacture of elaborate
artificial flies for the tempting of carp, barbel, chub, and perch.
When fly-fishing proved unsuccessful they did not scruple to resort
to the dip-net, and when minnows were their only prey Mrs. Atchi-
son had them fried after Isaak Walton's recipe, with cowslip
blossoms and yolks of eggs. Many an old weir and mossy mill-
race, or willow-shaded lake, lying calm and dark like a Claude
Lorraine mirror, many a sunshiny river, glancing and rippling over
pebbly shallows, remained in her memory living illustrations of such
poems as " Stoddart's Angling Reminiscences." Mr. Atchison never
tired of hearing her sing, when he came back wearied from the
Manchester mills; there was a joy in the fresh young voice which
matched the words : —
" Sing, sweet thrushes, forth and sing !
Meet the morn upon the lea ;
Are the emeralds of the spring
On the angler's trysting tree ?
Tell, sweet thrushes, tell to me,
Are there no buds on our willow tree }
Buds and birds on our trysting tree ? "
" One morning Mr. Atchison made Barbara a present of a small
silver-hasped, chest-shaped writing-desk, inlaid with mother-of-pearl.
" I am afraid, my daughter," he said, " that you will be lonely and
homesick, now that your young companions have left, and I fancy
that I have employment here for many a leisure hour. I heard you
say that you, had a fancy for antiquarian research, and this box con-
tains the girlhood correspondence of your great-aunt, Elizabeth Atch-
ison. These letters were written in the early part of this century,
and a few of them are from people who have since attained to some
celebrity. You have a right to own them, and I only trust that they
may furnish you some entertainment."
Barbara accepted the gift with delighted anticipations; but it so
MAUD'S SKETCHING TOUR.
63
:hanced that her time was so fully employed that she did not imme-
diately examine the contents of the writing-desk.
Soon after the girls left, a letter came from Maud, dated Worces-
ter. Barbara shared it with Mrs. Atchison, who had become much
interested in them all.
"Wednesday, 10 p.m.
"Dear Barb.,'' Maud wrote,— ^' Do thank Mrs. Atchison for me, for
the kind introduction to Mrs. Cheritree. She made me feel at home
at once though English customs are all so unlike our American ones.
I am quite bewildered by the multiplicity of meals: breakfast, lunch,
dinner, tea, and supper. However, one is not obliged to attend
them all, and can make a selection accordmg to ones con-
venience.
"For a manufacturing town, Worcester is handsomer than I ex-
pected. I have not made any sketches ol
scenery or architecture as yet, having so far
devoted myself to my pet hobby — china.
This morning Mr. Tom Atchison showed
me over the porcelain works. You can't
tell how interesting it was to me. They
employ about eight thousand workmen,
and I saw antique specimens as well as
the elegantly-shaped modern pieces in
white and gold which we know so well in
America.
" I secured a quantity of photographs, and g
made some pencil studies, which I enclose.
You can forward them to my address at
South Kensington. I was chiefly inter-
ested in some vases bearing the 'exotic' ^
birds in their ornamentation. Dr. Prime in his 'Pottery and Porcelain
criticises these birds as bearing no resemblance to any living species.
64
THREE VASSAR GIRLS IN ENGLAND.
I was sure, however, that I could trace the golden pheasant, the bir
of paradise, and some other Asiatic vari^'
eties. You will notice that I have sent yoiitl
pictures of other ware than Worcester. I
never had the whole history of English por-
celain explained clearly to me before. In a
nut-shell it is- this: The first manufactures
of any importance were at Chelsea and Bow,
carried on from 1730 to 1770.
" The Chelsea wares borrowed their orna-
mentations from the French and from the
Chinese, and also produced little figurines, j
something in the way of the Dresden ShepJ'
herdesses, which
were also made at
Bow. A figure of
Flora, modelled by
the sculptor Bacon, and executed at Bow,
I expect to see at the South Kensino-ton
Museum.
"Then came Wedgewood, with his im-
portant chemical discoveries, resulting in
close imitations of Basaltes and Jasper, dis-
coveries which would hardly have created
the sensation they did had they not been
utilized by Flaxman's skill, and blossomed
in the beautiful reproductions of the antique
in cameo. This seems to me an instance
when a true artist tried his hand at decora-
tion, without in the least degrading his art. About the same time-
the Chelsea manufactory was merged in the Derby, in 175 1, the Wor-
cester works sprang into notice, and have ever since maintained their
supremacy.
j.*****^^.^
MAUD'S SKETCHING TOUR.
65
" This may be very dull to you, dear Barb., but to me it is intensely
fascinating. I have gained many practical hints, and intend to go
right to work as soon as we are settled at South Kensington. Mr.
Atchison told me where I could
have my china hred, and was of
o-reat service to me in various ways.
He paid a complirhent to my
taste, with which I was not over
pleased, as it was at the expense of
that of Americans generally. He
assured me that I had shown dis-
crimination by admiring correct
forms, and then said that he had been
told that the kind of ornamentation
ve affected in America was the
:wining of porcelain jugs and vases
with imitation-satin bows -and rib-
bons. He described one horror: a
ewer, apparently issuing from a satin (^
bag, shirred and tied with a carelessly- ^|
knotted string, which he had seen
praised in an American newspaper.
I could hardly believe it. It seems to
me that we get credit for all our crudities, while our good, earnest
work passes unnoticed. Still, as Saint says, the misunderstanding
arises from mutual ignorance, and the more I see of the English the
more I respect their sterling qualities.
" The letter you handed me just as I was leaving was from Saint's
cousin, who I told you was connected with a new scheme for starting
a large manufactory in America. He wants me to send him designs
for a dinner-service, — there is to be a competitive exhibition, and, con-
siderable sums of money are to be awarded as prizes. I do not care
66
THREE VASSAR GIRLS IN ENGLAND.
I
for the lucre, but the glory! and I shall do my best. Enough about
porcelain. I am going to-morrow to visit the principal points of*
interest connected with Cromwell's crowning victory here at Wor-{
cester. I think the career of
that remarkable man, from the
Battle of Marston Moor to the
coup de grace which he gave|;|
Charles in the streets of this old',
city, is one of the most fascin-'
ating of romances. After thia
victory our sympathies go ouf;
for the king in hiding, handedl
from one trusty subject to an-|, •
other, concealed in various dis-
guises, in the ^ Priests' Hole ' of '
the nobleman's hall, among thel,,
servants in the kitchen, and the]
peasants in the cottage. I like
to think that though a thousand
pounds were offered for his dis-
T'J covery, and so many people
knew of his whereabouts, he
was not betrayed. I wonder ^|
wh}' it is that our interest de-j
serts the successful side, and
that we care no more for Cromv^ell except when we pity him beside
the deathbed of his dearly-loved daughter. But those fierce strug-
gles at Marston Moor, Naseby, and at Worcester stir my blood still.
Do 3^ou remember Macaulay's description of the charge of Crom-
well's Ironsides at Naseby 1 —
MossDjc.Co.N.Y.
FARNESE FLORA.
MAUD'S SKETCHIXG TOUR.
6^
^'^"i \ I /
CROMWELL AT THE DEATHBED OF HIS DAUGHTER.
68 THREE VASSAR GIRLS IN ENGLAND.
* They are here ! They rush on ! We are broken ! We are gone
Our left is borne before them like stubble on the blast !
O Lord, put forth Thy might ! O Lord, defend the right !
Stand back to back in God's name, and fight it to the last.
* Stout Skippon hath a wound, the centre hath given ground, ;
Hark ! hark ! What means the trampling of horsemen on our rear ? 1
Whose banner do I see, boys ? 'Tis he, thank God, 'tis he, boys ! j
Bear up another minute, brave Oliver is here.
* Their heads all stooping low, their points all in a row,
Like a whirlwind on the trees, like a deluge on the dykes.
Our cuirassiers have burst on the ranks of the accurst,
And at a shock have scattered the forest of his pikes.
' Fast, fast the gallants ride, in some safe nook to hide
. Their coward heads, predestined to rot on Temple Bar ;
And he — he turns, he flies; shame on those cruel eyes
That bore to look on torture, and dare not look on war,'
"I wonder how Saint is enjoying herself, and more especially
what kind of an impression she is making on Miss Featherstonhauo-h.
Heigh-ho! it is growing late and I must stop. I will finish this letter
to-morrow."
" Thursday Morning.
"I am scribbling for dear life in the station while awaitin^^
the train which is to take me to Saint. This has been an eventful
morning. I started out early, intending to visit all the places iden-
tified with Cromwell and King Charles. The battle of Wor-
cester was fought for the most part in Perry Wood, about St.
Martin's gate, and in the city streets. The cavaliers made their last
stand in the old Hall, which ran with the blood of the Scotch and
English. There is a curious old record in the city archives: "Paid
for pitch and rosin to perfume the hall after the Scots — two shillings."
" In Perry Wood, where the action began, I was shown a tree under
which I was told the devil appeared to Cromwell, and promised him
the victory.
BATTLE OF MAKSTON MOOR.
MAUD'S SKETCHING TOUR.
71
«I made a sketch of Powick-Old-Bridge, where the battle raged
fiercely, and then climbed the grand old cathedral tower from which
Kin.. Charles is said to have watched the slaughter of his men.
was^delighted with the cathedral cloisters, which have been restored
in just the right way, the original designs repeated conscientiously,
with no frightful mutilations or anachronisms to jar upon an edu-
cated taste. ' I noticed a gentleman sketching here, and I crept just
near enou^^h to discover that his work was architectural, and consisted
of geometric plans instead of pictorial effects. I was turning away
when he suddenly became aware that he was observed and faced
about. It was John
Featherstonhaugh!
Of course there was
no backing out then,
and we shook hands
cordially. He in-
quired particularly for
Saint, and for you, and
seemed much pleased
to learn that she was
with his sister, and
you were at the Peak.
He hoped that his
business engagements
would admit of his
running home for a
vacation during the
summer, so you may see him one of these days. He seemed older
and more careworn than when we met in Spain. Ask yo^^; ""^'^ '^
it is not possible that he is worried about money affairs. He had a
portfolio of drawings with him which he showed me. They were
all designs of medieval restorations. I congratulated him on being
,1/f /
IT WAS JOHN FEATHERSTONHAUGH.
72 THREE VASSAR GIRLS IN ENGLAND.
in his element, but he shook his head. "A man should identify him-
self with his age," he said, "and not waste his life in repeating the
masterpieces of bygone times. I want to supply modern needs, and
to be useful to my own generation.
"When I asked him how an architect could do this better than by
perpetuating beauty, he replied that there were more vital problems
to be solved, and explained that this was alarmingly an age of inse-
curity in building, and that we would be looked upon in future times
as ignorant barbarians for allowing ourselves to be burned in droves
in theatres and in apartment-houses. He has invented a style of fire-
escape which will be ornamental externally, and with which he pro-
poses to decorate the fa9ades of high buildings. It is to be con-
structed, where expense is not a consideration, of scroll-work of
hammered iron in old Dutch and Spanish fashion; and he showed me
some designs of balconies, and connecting lattice-work which were,
simply beautiful. His idea is not only a humane one, but I am positivel
that there is money in it, or would be in America. He goes fron^.
Worcester directly to Oxford, where it is possible that we may mee4
him again. My train is approaching.
"Hastily, Maud."
"And now," exclaimed Barbara, "I am impatient to hear from
Samt. I am so curious to know her experiences with Miss Feather-
stonhaugh."
"We will soon have an opportunity of learning from Gladys her-
self how your friend Miss Boylston struck her," Miss Atchison
replied. " Harry called at the manor this morning, and ascertained |
that she was expected to return to-morrow. Your uncle thinks we '
must have a yachting trip in the ^coal-scuttle' as soon as Dick's
vacation occurs, and I believe he intends to invite Gladys to accom-
pany us. But what is this acquaintance with John Featherstonhaugh ?
I did not know that he had ever been in America." i
MAUD'S SKETCHING TOUR. 73
«He was with Lord Gubbins, auntie, when we were in Spain.
We were in the same hotel at Granada and other places. He seemed
quite pleased with Saint, and was very obliging to all of us."
"And what did your friend. Miss Boylston, think of him ?"
"She does not approve of him at all; but she must change her
mind, he is so thoroughly good-natured, and has such an honest,
trustworthy face, that I don't see how she can help liking him even
if he were not so refined and cultivated. Mrs. Atchison assumed a
thoughtful expression. '' I have known John Featherstonhaugh since
he w'ls a baby," she said, " and I know him, too, to be as good as
he is agreeable. He is my Tom's particular friend, and I have
had every opportunity of observing him. That was just like him.
' To serve the present age,
My calling to fulfil'
He always was something of a Methodist, in feeling I mean. He has
proved himself a good son and brother, and that is the surest guaranty
that he will make some one an estimable husband."
74 THREE VASSAR GIRLS IN ENGLAND.
I
1 )
J
CHAPTER V.
Maud's Sketching Tour. Bulletin Second: — Warwick
AND KeNILWORTH.
I '
A FEW days following the receipt of Maud's letter, one arrived
from Saint. It was dated, "Oxford," and ran as follows: —
" Beloved Barbara, — As I assured you at the outset, I was not \
made for guile and deception, and my poor assumption of the English
character would have been discovered at once if Miss Featherston-
haugh had been of a less trusting and unsuspicious nature. As it
was, the play soon became insupportable to me, and I betrayed
myself.
"We left the train at Rugby, where Lord Gubbins' private con-
veyance was in waiting, and drove across the country to Coventry. (]
I cannot say much for the beauty of the drive, for one of those ever-
to-be-expected April showers overtook us, and it was necessar}^ to
have the carriage-top put up. I was a little nervous from the start,
at finding myself in such close quarters with Miss Featherstonhaugh,
but really we progressed remarkably well. She had an idea that I
was educated on the continent, and this served to excuse my igno-
rance of many English matters. I was careful, too, to observe due
discretion, and to let her take the lead in conversation. At Rugby
we had only a peep, through the driving rain, at the school which Dr.
Arnold and Tom Brown have made so celebrated. I could not help
thinking, as we made our entry into Coventry that if the weather, at
the time Lady Godiva made her famous ride, at all resembled what
MAUD'S SKETCHING TOUR.
75
ve were enduring, the hard-hearted earl might have allowed her a
vaterproof, or at least an umbrella. By the way, they all call water-
proofs ' mackintoshes,' and canes are ^walking-sticks.' I nearly ex-
)osed my Yankee origin by referring to his lordship s cane. He
^rushed me with ^ I'm not a tutor, you know.' It seems that rattans,
'%-vCy'
used for flogging, are the only articles which they call canes. We
had considerable amusement discussing the term ^ sendmg a person
to Coventry'; which signifies ^declining further conversation,' or
^ cuttincr another's acquaintance.' 1 had my own private opinion that
76
THREE VASSAR GIRLS IN ENGLAND.
I might wish the trip to Miss Featherstonhaugh, before our visit wais
over. We lunched at the ^ King's Head,' and visited the Guildhall,
v^^ith its fine carved roof, its tapestr}^, and armor. Then, the rain still
pouring, we continued the journey to Gubbins Hall, a rather modermi
structure, in the midst of a beautiful old park. The mansion is oldel^
than it appears, and, among other interesting apartments, contains h,\
private picture-gallery,',,
with portraits by Gains^
borough, and other art-
ists of less note, of all
the different Lords an(
Ladies Gubbins, froi
the time that the illus-| '
trious name received itsH
patent of nobility.
Some of the old-fash-j
ioned dresses were very I
comical. I would like
to see Miss Feather-I
stonhaugh in the cos-
tume of a Lady Gubbins i
of 1 8 1 o. If you get up ]
any tableaux at the
Peak, try to persuadd
her to take that charw
acter. N. B. — You will need a feather-duster or so for the coiffures
" As we entered the house, Lady Gubbins remarked that we
i
would hardly have time to dress for dinner. I confess that I was aiu
little disheartened, as I saw Miss Featherstonhaugh's boxes carried |
up-stairs, and remembered that my trunk had been sent on to Lon-'
don, and that I had only brought a large bag. However, that hand-
bag can do wonders, as you know, and once in the privacy of my
MAUD'S SKETCHING TOUR.
77
wn apartment, the services of Lady Gubbins' maid declined, and
ly cloth pelisse laid aside, I took out my whisk-broom, and carefully
.rushed my faithful black silk. Then a bath freshened my spirits,
nd with my hair newly arranged with the silver stiletto, and the
inked collar of silver medallions that Mrs. Arnold sent me from
Horence, and the fichu of 'black Spanish lace that you bought for me
.t Madrid, fastened at the waist with a bunch of fresh jonquillcs,
ivhich I found upon my dress-
ng-table, my spirits rose to
he occasion, and I buttoned
)n my adjustable train, and
3rew my lace mits over my
elbows, with the feeling that
^J-^O'
Miss Featherstonhaugh might
o her worst. The dinner ^^
as very formal, with ' Yellow- .^ '-"^ «^ '■''
plush' behind 'his lordship's'
t:hair; and two hours spent at
table, though there were no
guests other than ourselves.
After dinner we retired to
the drawing-room, and Miss
Featherstonhaugh and I played
and sang alternately. She
wore an India-muslin, with
pale - blue trimmings, a n d
looked glacial. She played
selections from Handel, her yellowplush behind his lordship's chair.
favorite composer. I find that
nearly all the English people whom I have met think that the
^Messiah' is the grandest composition ever written, and that noth-
ing worthy of being called music has been produced since. I sang
^8 THREE VASSAR GIRLS IN ENGLAND.
'Now the Shades are Falling,' from Franz, which Lady Gubbins had
never heard, though she has evidently been in society sufficiently t
be familiar with an ordinary repertoire. Miss Featherstonhaug
then replied with two or three of the songs without words, evidently^
feeling that they were something quite new. They carried me bac
to the music-rooms at Vassar, and I remembered how I nearly cam
to hate them from hearing them practised day after day, on ever}
side, with every degree of exactitude and inexactitude. Then they
insisted on my taking the piano-stool again, and I gave them a bit
from Wagner and one from Liszt. I could see that nobody cared for
either selection. Miss Featherstonhaugh admitted that both com-
posers were liked on the continent, and that English people who
spent much time in Switzerland very generally grew to like Liszt.
So you see that we did not agree at all, and 3'et, wx each knew
enough to respect the other's opinion; and through all, Barb., dear, \\\
had an absurd feeling of how very alike we were. We were each o
us a bit afraid of the other, and yet fully conscious of our own excel-
lencies; we were outwardly constrained and dignified and inwardly
timid. We touched upon poetry, and there we got along better, for;
Herrick, Motherwell, George Herbert, Shelley, and Keats are prime
favorites with us both. Of moderns, she cares most for Edwin)
Arnold, and — Bryant!
"At the breakfast-table Lord Gubbins proposed that we shou^ Id
take a look at the stables, and regretted that it was not the huntiri
season or we should certainly have had a meet.
"^Do you hunt?' Miss Featherstonhaugh asked, looking directlj'V
at me.
" ^ Oh, no indeed,' I exclaimed. "^ I am a member of the Society fo' (|
the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals.' | ;
"■^ Yes?' she replied, in a doubtful way. 'Well, it does not seenii
quite fair, so many men, horses, and hounds, pitted against one foxi
and to have the earth-stopper go around while the creature is out
MAUUS SKETCHING TOUR.
79
feeding, and close up every one of his holes, so that he may not be
able to run to earth, is like engaging treachery to help the stronger
side, which is quite at variance with our old English ideas of fair
play-'
"'We do even worse things than that, you know,' Lord Gubbins
added. 'My game-keeper bags as many foxes as he can during the
season, so as to have two or three on hand whenever we have a mind
for a hunt, then
all we have to
do is to have
one let out be-
hind a hedge, -
while the party
is mounting,
and we are
sure of our
game. No, it's
not fair sport
to the fox, but
it's sufficiently
exciting to the
huntsmen and
the hounds.'
" ' And it is a very pretty sight,' Miss Featherstonhaugh added.
' At least, Miss Boylston, you enjoy watching the red-coated riders
sweeping along the level ground and leaping the bars, the green-
liveried whippers-in, and the spotted hounds in full cry.'
« I was obliged to confess that I had never even witnessed a hunt;
\ whereupon she gave me a wondering stare.
" ' Ah ! you are city-bred,^ she said, at last. ' Now, in the country,
we are like the Ephesians, entirely given over to the worship of
Diana, goddess of hunting.
FOX-HUNTING.
8o THREE VASSAR GIRLS IN ENGLAND.
'■'Did you ever read an article by Charles Dudley Warner?' i
asked (for I was so warmed up by the subject under discussion, that!
I entirely forgot the part I was to play), on ^ Hunting, from the Deer'^J
standpoint?'
"^ No,' she replied. ^ Did it appear in Blackwood? '
" "^ In the " Atlantic," an American magazine,' I replied, with th
pleasing consciousness that I had put my foot in it once more. M
embarrassment was somewhat covered, however, by our rising fro
table and preparing for the visit to the stables.
" I cared very little for the horses, but the walk which followe
across the park was delightful. The hawthorn was in blossom, an
the air was filled with its delicious fragrance. The hedges, the grass
and the trees were all washed fresh by the recent rain, and the sun
shine flashed brightly on the white swans swimming in a little lakei|
Lady Gubbins said she had heard a nightingale the evening before
and other birds were flying briskly about. I happened to mentiorj
Shakspeare's lines —
,i
" ' The lark that tirra lirra chants, - \
With hey ! with hey! the thrush and the jay.' '
" ' How fond he was of flowers, too,' Miss Featherstonhaugh
remarked. ^ I wonder how many of his favorites we shall find in
bloom during the excursion which we are to make to Stratford-upon-
Avon.'
"At luncheon Lord Gubbins ordered out the carriage. ^I shall
drive to the station to meet an American young lady,' he said, "^who;
is to join us in our expedition to-morrow to Kenilworth, Warwick,]
and Stratford; and if you young ladies would enjoy a drive this
afternoon I would be happy to have you accompany me.'
" We each accepted, and then Miss Featherstonhaugh asked if the
expected guest was by any chance the niece of Mr. Acherly Atch-
ison, with whom she had played tennis, at Chatsworth. On being
MAUD'S SKETCHING TOUR.
83
told that she was only a friend of hers, Miss Featherstonhaugh,
much to my surprise, sang your praises.
" ^ That Miss Atchison strikes me,' she said, ^ as a most deHghtful
voung person. I was prejudiced against her, but she has quite won
my heart. Do 30U know, I really believe she gave me that game?
She was a very clever player, and her behavior impressed me most
favorably.'
"When Maud arrived, Lord Gubbins introduced her to Miss
Featherstonhaugh, but remarked: *" I believe you have already met
Miss Boylston.'
"'^ At Chatsworth,' Maud replied, with a demure little twinkle.
" But I was getting weary of the constant strain, and longed for
some opportunity of disclosure. It came with our excursion of 3-es-
terda}', which was one of the most interesting experiences of my life.
We drove first to Kenilworth Castle, where Maud made a sketch,
while wx rambled. I had carried Walter Scott's Fenilworth with
me, but it was ver}' difficult to recognize localities, though Lord
Gubbins was quite positi\-e as to the former position of the '■ Tilt
Yard,' the 'Gallery Tower,' the • Pleasance,' the 'Sally-port,' and the
'Great Gatehouse.' I looked in vain for traces of ' Mervyn's Tower,'
in which the unfortunate Amy Robsart took refuge during her hus-
band's reception to Qiieen Elizabeth. We read Robert Laneham's
curious description of the merr3aiiakings on this occasion, and tried
to realize the scene with the maskers, the floating pageants on the
•lake, the din of the buffoons and minstrels, mingling with sounds of
revelry, and the glare of hundreds of waxen torches upon the entry
of the magnificeni: cavalcade of courtiers, led by the Qiieen, her pow-
dered hair, her ruff, her brocade petticoat, and even her satin shoes
blazing with jewels; while Leicester, her host, the handsomest and
wickedest man in England, ' glittered at her side like a golden image,
with jewels and cloth-of-gold.'
"If my researches as an antiquary were crowned with but indiffer-
84
THREE VASSAR GIRLS IN ENGLAND.
ent success, Maud had a charming field, for a more poetic ruin I
have never seen.
" ' The hoary keep of Kenilworth,
How mournfully and drear,
Its turrets from the crumbling mass,
Their broken forms uprear.
" ' The summits crowned with verdure green,
The wild moss creeping o'er,
Where floating in emblazoned sheen
The banner waved of yore.'
"It is only five miles fi-om Kenilworth to Warwick, but the route
abounds in so many picturesque views that Maud was constantly urging
us to stop and let her sketch '' this little bit.' I noticed a number of inns
with such antiquated names as
'^ Rose and Crown,' ^ The King's
Arms,' *" The Spotted Dog,' and
the 'Mermaid.'
" Near Warwick we turned
to our left and followed an ave-
nue of Scotch firs which led us
to Guy's Cliff, the countr}' seat
of Lord Pe?'cy. The story of
Earl Guy of Warwick is wor-
thy of being added to the
legends of Arthur's Table
Round. It is said that ^ Felys
the Fayre,' who finally married
/ this famous warrior Guy, in his
wooing ' caused him, for her
sake, to put himself in many
greate distresses, dangers, and
perils. . . . When they were wedded but a little season, con-
sidering what he had done for a woman's sake. Sir Guy thought
ON THE ROAD.
QUEEN ELIZABETH.
MAUD'S SKETCHING TOUR.
87
to besset the other part of his lyf for Goddis' sake, and departed
from her to her great hevynes, lighting men3'e greate Battells,'
espousing always the cause of the injured party. At last, ' unknown
savinge to the kinge only,' he retired as a hermit to this cliff, repair-
ing daily to the Castle of Warwick to receive alms of his lady.
PAST QUAINT COTTAGES.
Only on his deathbed did he make himself known to her by sending
her a rin^. The legend adds that the countess survived him but a
fortnight, and that they were both buried together.
" From Guy's Cliff we hurried on to Warwick Castle, for it is
closed to visitors after four in the afternoon. AVe were fortunate in
havino- an hour in which to explore its treasures. Maud could hardly
be persuaded to enter, she was so intent on transferring one of the
88
THREE VASSAR GIRLS IN ENGLAND.
ir-2C%r
picturesque towers to her sketch-book. Although the castle his
suffered severely by fire, it is still wonderfully rich in art and in costly
furniture. TheVandycks especially excited Maud's enthusiasm, anij
I found the work of Rubens and of Sir Joshua Reynolds extremel')
interesting. Next to the pictures we both voted the old armor mosi
fascinating. i
" After our visit at Warwick Castle we drove on for eio^ht miles!
past quamt cottages, and charming
vistas, to Stratford-upon-Avon j
where we spent the night at the
^ Red Horse,' the inn where Irving
lodged. In the evening we ad-
journed to Irving's room, and
there read aloud his charming
description of his stay here; and
Miss Featherstonhaugh admittec
that America had produced at
least two prose writers, — Irving
and Hawthorne.
" It was here that I threw off
the mask of a conspirator and
came out in my true character as^
an American citizen. There was
ONE OF THE TOWERS au old piauo in the inn-parlor, and
though it was wretchedly out of tune, Lady Gubbins insisted thai
Miss Featherstonhaugh and I should sing something suggested by out
• late visit to Warwick. Miss Featherstonhaugh gave us '^ The Mistle-
toe Hung on the Castle Wall,' and I sang "^ 'Mid Pleasures anc
Palaces.'
" "^ That song is to Americans what " Annie Laurie " is to us Eng-
lish,' Miss Featherstonhaugh remarked. *" I remember that my brother
told me he should never forget the thrill which he once experienced on
MAUD'S SKETCHING TOUR. ^I
taring " Annie Laurie " sung in a foreign land. I believe it happened
Spain when he was returning from India with you. Lord Gubbins
d he ascertained afterward that the singer was one of the party of
merican girls of whom I spoke to you, and in whose description he
as far more than extravagant. He said that they were girlishly
ithusiastic; but then it was an enthusiasm schooled by a study of
e liberal arts to critical appreciation, and not mere indiscriminate
ish. And it struck him as such a pleasant thing that their superior
.vantages had not destroyed the capacity for admiration, but enabled
em to express it the more frankly from the quiet conviction that
ey were capable of recognizing a good thing.'
" Lord Gubbins laughed at this speech until he fairly choked, and
could stand it no longer. ' Miss Featherstonhaugh,' I said, ' I feel
ce a culprit for permitting you to say so much, as I was probably
le of the American girls of whom your brother spoke.'
"You should have seen her expression. ^Impossible!' she ex-
aimed. ' You are not in the least American, you have every Eng-
jh characteristic'
"'Come, now, Gladys,' Lady Gubbins asked, good-naturedly,
fou don't mean to say you have not suspected for some time
ist?'
Not in the least; and you said you lived in Chelsea.'
So I do,' I replied, ' Chelsea, Massachusetts, one of the suburbs
r Boston.'
"Then Lord Gubbins burst into a hearty fit of laughter. 'Ah!
ladys,' he said, ' you have lost the Ascot. I vowed to take you to
le races if you guessed our little game, but you are not so clever as
thought you.'
" She looked more and more bewildered. ' I have said dreadful
lings about America, I daresay, but you ought to forgive me under
^e circumstances.' Of course I told her that she had only been too
omplimentary, and we shook hands as good friends, though I do not
92 THREE VASSAR GIRLS IN ENGLAND. j
believe in her neart of hearts she quite forgave me, or that &h
admires me at all as I do her. Really she belongs to a fine type lo
woman, a little bit out of the world, and with a pure, high scorn 'o
society inanities, yet highly bred, and in her way as conventional asl
IS possible for a charitablj-intentioned woman to be. She commanl
my highest respect, but I believe that you would get along with h},
better than I. And though our experiment has been a success in ti
way of proving to her that American girls are not so very unlike thje
English cousins, I am positive that her heart has not been in the lea
interested by the specimen under her consideration. 1
" Our last day together was spent very pleasantly. Early in \A
morning we visited Shakspeare's birthplace. I send you some flowij
from the garden for your collection - datfodils and violets, with spri c
of fennel and rosemary. You can easily match them with selectio t
from his plays. We rode over to Shottery, and Maud made a drai ii
ing of Ann Hathaway's Cottage. We stood inside the huge oA '
lashioned fireplace, and caught a glimpse of the sky through t)"
broad-throated chimney, and rested ourselves on the settle whe' \
William and Ann must have often sat hand in hand in their wooiri'/
time. We made a short call too at Charlecote Park, where LoJV,
Gubbins insisted Shakspeare never poached. Evidently a poach 'l
conveys to his mind only the most vulgar of ideas. Our next vi 1'
was to the church containing Shakspeare's tomb, with the inscript /'
which has frightened so many a resurrectionist- — V
" Good friend, for Jesus' sake forbeare, \
To dig the dust enclosed here. ,' .
Blessed be he that spares these stones,
And curst be he that moves my bones ! " • V
"Lastly, we paid our respects to the new Shakspeare Memon 1
Theatre, and we could not help regretting that we could not sto^ ^.^^i^i,
enough to see here a representation of one of his plays. After oi.i
return to the hotel I sang two or three of the Shaksr pearian song;
jm.
j\
<^::
#
Aiv
I
MAUD'S SKETCHING TOUR.
95
which Schubert has set to music, — 'Who is Sylvia,' and 'Where the
Bee Sucks.' Then came an early dinner, and our kind friends bade us
SHAKSPEAKE'S TOMB.
boil voyage 'aX. the station, where Maud and I took the afternoon train
for Oxford, our brains buzzing with all we had seen and enjoyed.
"Mr. Dick Atchison called on us this evening, and to-morrow
g5 THREE VASSAR GIRLS IN ENGLAND.
he is to show" us over the colleges. And you at the Peak, what are
you doing, and whom are you making happ}^ with your merry, sun-
shiny ways? I am impatient to get to South Kensington, where 1 1
expect to find a long letter with a full description of your delightful'
countr}^ life. ' Ever devotedly yours,
" Cecilia."
"And at Oxford," Barbara mused, "though she does not know it,
she will probably meet John Featherstonhaugh."
SWEET GIRL GRADUATES.
97
CHAPTER VI.
SWEET GIRL GRADUATES.
MISS FEATHERSTONHAUGH had returned to the manor,
and Barbara set out one pleasant afternoon to call upon her.
Harry had offered to drive her over, but she was in the mood for a
long walk, and she declined his invitation. The sk}' was never bluer
or the landscape more lovely; her friends had grown kinder, if pos-
sible, and new and pleasant occupations and amusements wx-re con-
tinually suggesting themselves, but Barbara was out of sorts. It was
the old question which would keep coming up. Surely her beautiful
life with all its privileges and opportunities was not given her simply
for her own entertainment; how^then could she turn it to account? It
was the hymn which John Featherstonhaugh had chosen for the rule
of his life whi^ch had brought the question to light once more: —
" To serve the present age,
My calling to fulfil,
O may it all my powers engage,
To do the Master's will."
What was to be her calling? Not music, like Saint, or art with
Maud; she had no specialty. "I wish I had been more of a ^dig' at
college," she said to herself, " and yet I always stood fairly in my
classes, particularly in mechanics. If I had been a boy I would
have finished off at the Institute of Technology, and perhaps have
turned out an inventor, but as it is what's the use ? There is no need
of ray doing anything. Maud is always talking about being inde-
98
THREE VASSAR GIRLS IN ENGLAND.
pendent, and the pleasure there is in being able to stand alone. Now
it seems to me nbsurd to stand when one has a chance to sit, and
people are always politely shoving out easy-chairs to me." Still
Barbara was not satisfied; she remembered the great peace that had
come to her like a benediction that memorable day in Portugal, when
she had resolved to trust her future implicitly in God's hands, striving-
only to do His will. There it was again, "To do the Master's will..'"
What did He want her to do? Superior advantages imposed mone
of responsibility; what could she do with her education? "I wiHI
notice sharply what Miss Featherstonhaugh is doing with hers," shc'e;
said to herself " Perhaps I shall gain a hint."
As she opened the wrought-iron gate a little bell jingled, but there
was no one in the gate-lodge to notice the summons, and lookinlg;
across the lawn she saw Miss Featherstonhaugh kneeling beside \ai
bed of bulbs, busily engaged in potting plants with the assistance of
a tall, stoop-shouldered boy. She arose as Barbara approached, anc|j
drawing off her garden gloves shook hands cordially. 1
"Do let me take a trowel and assist you," Barbara exclaimed, "iti
is so long since I have played with fresh earth." i
"You will soil your gown," Gladys objected. j
"I can keep it out of the way," Barbara replied, "and as for my;;
hands, if you only knew how delightful it seems to me to pinch the -
moist mold you would not be surprised if you saw me making little j
mud pies." /j
They worked together for some time, chatting merrily about the
flowers. The boy joined in the conversation with the freedom of a:
privileged favorite, and showed a knowledge of plants which would;
not have shamed a professional gardener. He removed the pots as
soon, as they were filled to a donkey-cart which stood in the drive-
v/a}', "Jim will drive with them to Buxton to-night," Gladys
explained, " and will sell them at the market early in the morning."
"Do you raise many flowers for the market? " Barbara asked.
;i'/ t
yc
SWEET GIRL GRADUATES.
lOI
"Jim does; he is my gardener, and has certain perquisites of his
Dwn in the way of trade. He has earned enough to purchase his
donkey and cart, and is doing quite a thriving business."
" He looks like a bright boy."
" He is a born naturalist," Gladys explained, as they walked together
toward the house, having finished the work of transplanting. " I
found him in your uncle's cotton-mill at Manchester. Your uncle
told me that he was dying of consumption, and hoped I could find
him a home at one of our farms for a little while, he did not think
it could be for long at most. I placed him in the care of our
Abram, man-of-all-work at the lodge, and he began to pick up at
once. Abram cares more for the stable than the garden, and he set
Jim to work upon the flower-beds. I worked with him from time to
time, when I saw what a passion the boy had for flowers, and lately
I have been giving him lessons in botany. Really I think he will
I02 ' THREE VASSAR GIRLS IN ENGLAND.
make a specialist. I must show you his fernery. He has propagated
choice varieties for the head gardener at Chatsworth, and has receive
a prize at one of our country fairs. The boy seems hungry fo
knov^ledge, and it is a real pleasure to teach him."
" How good you are ! " Barbara exclaimed softly, keen admiratior
shining in her e3^es.
" Oh! as for that matter," replied the other, brusquely, " I fancy i
is all pure selfishness; there is no pleasure like it. An education
would be hardly worth the trouble of acquiring if it were to benefit;
onl}^ one's self."
" Is there much need for charitable work hereabouts ! " Barbar
inquired, timidly, " everybody looks so comfortable and neat that a
first glance there seems very little to be done."
"If you knew the poor as I do," Miss Featherstonhaugh replied;]
" I am on the visiting committee for an orphan asylum, and I meetf
such heart-rending cases of destitution. There is a queer little
structure down in the glen, half cart, half cabin, which belongs
to some strolling players. A woman lies there dying; she will
leave a prett}'^ little girl two and a half years old. She is not
related to the people with whom she is sta3nng, and they do not care
to keep her. I went down to see them, and the mother has given thei
child up to us, but according to the rules of our institution the child(
cannot be received until she is an orphan, and so we are all quietly
waiting the mother's death; the players a little sullenly, for this
forced idleness interferes with their profits; and I heard the man who
is the manager of the company complain because the woman did not
'git on faster with her deein.'"
Barbara sighed. " And I noticed their cart as I came along the I
lane, and th9ught how picturesque and pretty it looked. Why, I even j
half envied them the freedom of their nomad life, and fancied thatl
I would enjoy being a gypsy myself Can't I do something for thatl
poor woman.? Send her flowers, or jelly, or money?" !
SWEET GIRL GRADUATES. I05
Miss Featherstonhaugh shook her head with a pitying smile. " She
s beyond all that now," she replied, " and the child will soon be in
^ood hands." "Flowers or jelly!" she thought to herself, "how
ittle the child knows of the wants of the poor; and what do her
dndly impulses amount to when she would not brush the hem of her
aai;ity skirts across the sill of their door? I have another scheme,''
Ihe added aloud, " in which I want to interest you, and which T think
vou will find more to your taste than work among our paupers. We
nave a literary society, which meets at my house this evening. I
want you to remain, and if you enjoy our proceedings join it. Jim
will call at Cosietoft on his way to Buxton, and let Mrs. Atchison
know that I have induced you to remain over night."
Barbara was easily persuaded, and she found the society in every
respect delightful. The subject for the evening was Milton. Miss
Featherstonhaugh read a thoughtful essay, in which she paid an elo-
quent tribute to the master-poet's "sublimity of imagery, and pomp
of sound, as of rolling organs and the outbursting of cathedral
choirs.'^ She drew a touching picture of the life of his wife, Mary
Powell, and treated his three daughters, Ann, Mary, and Deborah,
with more kindness than has been lately dealt them. At the close of
the ess^- ^"-^ uiembers of the society read selections from " Comus,"
' _ j^'Allegro," as contrasting Milton's intense love of moral beauty
with his enjoyment of innocent frolic. Barbara was unanimously
elected a member of the club, and was invited to prepare a paper for
their next meeting on the " Higher Education of Women in Amer-
ica." It seemed to her that she had never passed a more enjoyable
evening, and the prospect of telling this circle of cultured English
people what their American sisters were doing fired her enthusiasm
to the highest pitch. Long after the company had gone she talked
over the subiect of education with Gladys Featherstonhaugh, drinking
in with delight her description of Girton College, the red brick build-
ino- resembling a French chateau, two miles from Cambridge, where
Io6 THREE VASSAR GIRLS IN ENGLAND. I
she had passed her student life. Gladys showed her photographs of
her prett}' rooms, the walls painted in terra cotta, and tastefull
decorated with just such studio ornamentation of peacock feathersjl
embroidered sunflowers, Japanese umbrellas, vases, pictures, cabi
nets, and porcelain as she had been accustomed to at Vassar.
She was deeply interested in a view of Mary Somerville's mathe-
matical library, w^ith a bust of that gifted woman, and in the museurri
of Roman relics; and she turned from the photographs to run over
Gladys' school-books on the little hanging book-shelves, to see how
nearly the Girton course resembled that at Vassar. She had no cause
to blush for the comparison. While she glanced curiously at somei:
authors new to her she recognized many old favorites. Here were
Mill's "Logic," Spencer's "Data of Ethics," Kant's "Philosophy,"!
Venn's " Logic of Chance," Matthews on " Population," Mill's " Re-
publican Government," Walker's "Money," with rows of small Greel i;
books and paper-covered volumes in various modern languages*
Miss Featherstonhaugh was practically strong in mathematics, having
stood "eighth wrangler " in the University class, and Barbara's r'^spect
for her increased as she explained that examination for this " tripos "
consumed six hours daily for nine days, and ranged from differential
calculus to optics and spherical astronomy.
It was really very hard to go to bed that night, or to leave the next^
morning, when Mrs. Featherstonhaugh, the sweet-faced invalid, tooj^ I
her into her son's room, and showed her the very portfolio of photcW
graphs of Indian architecture which John Featherstonhaugh had himV
self shown her in Spain. A row of neatly-drawn and colored
dwellings were framed simply, and hung over his desk. "That is
the work that John is proudest of," Mrs. Featherstonhaugh explained.
" The}^ are some tenement-houses on a new plan which he designed
and executed for your uncle's operatives at Manchester. I hear that
they are very satisfactory in a sanitary way, as well as convenient
and tasteful."
r
SWEET GIRL GRADUATES. I07
"There he is, serving the present age again," thought Barbara,
enviously; '' well, perhaps I will be doing a needed work if I endeavor
to enlighten these benighted English a little concerning the real state
of affairs in America."
She beo-an her essa}' that afternoon, immediately after her return
to Cosietoft, but had only written the sentence, - England and Amer-
ica need only to understand each other better to become firm Inends,"
when she heard the voice of the senior Mr. Atchison in the hall
below and knew that he had come back earlier than was his wont
from Manchester. She ran down to chat with him, for they were
fond of each other's society. She told him of her visit at Feather-
stonhauch Manor, and how she envied Gladys her patronage of Jmi.
"Hum," muttered Mr. Atchison, "so you would like just such a
protege, — well, you can have him."
"What do you mean?" Barbara asked, her eyes all aglow.
'•^ I mean that there is a clever little fellow in Manchester, in whom
I have been interested for some time. He has fallen into trouble
latcJy, and needs a helping hand; if you have a mind to extend it to
him, I shall heartily approve."
" But who is he, and what can I do?"
" He is a young locksmith who has had a stall on the street for a
year past. He bu^ys second-hand keys from the dust-sifter's yard lor
wlittle or nothing, and sells them to persons who have lost or broken
e^heirs If a key is required for a particular lock, and he has none
f that will exactly fit, he selects one as near , the size as possible, and a
little ingenious filing will make it all right. He is so clever that he
has won the name of ^ Cutery Joe,' and it is his very ingenuity which
has brought him into trouble at last. He had a tempting ofter to
make a key from an impression in soap, and did so, though he knew
it was against the law. This key was used for housebreaking, and
its manufacture was traced back to Joe. He has been imprisoned,
fined, and forbidden to pursue his vocation lurther. I saw him
io8
THREE VASSAR GIRLS IN ENGLAND.
to-night as I was hurrying to the station. He has been liberated, but;
tells me that he can find no honest work, and that the thieves have
been after him again with offers of several jobs." He told me that
he had resolved to appeal to me before accepting their proposal; but
that I was his last resort, and he was
starving. I gave him a couple of shil-
lings, and told him to call at my count-
ing-house to-morrow."
" Poor fellow, it does seem as if Eng-
land might utilize his ingenuity in some
better way than to let it help burglars.
But what can be done?"
"Just this. I can give him an ex-
cellent place in the mills if he kncAV
a little more, but the poor boy can,' i
scarcely read, and cannot even write i
his name. I have no doubt Mrs. Atchi-\
son's cook can give him sufficient employment in 'the way of scour-
ing knives, fetching coal, paring potatoes, etc., to pay for his board,
and if you are willing to take the time to cram him with his studies
I think that by winter he will be sufficiently adv iced to be useful
to me."
"You dear, kind Cousin Acherly; it will be a boon to both of us/
If Harry will donate some of his old text-books, and let us hav(l
access to his little laborator}^, I will give him something more than thA '
rudiments — he shall have the first principles of mechanics. I was an n
enthusiastic student, and perhaps teaching will prove to be my forte.
If he is to be a machinist, I know just the preparatory training he
ought to have."
"Very well, but don't be too theoretic and scientific."
Cutery Joe arrived the next day. Barbara liked his face; it was
peaked and s arp, but not bad. He brought his kit of tools with him,
THE STREET LOCKSMITH.
SWEET GIRL GRADUATES. 1 09
Lnd was delighted with the turning-lathe, small forge, and other
equipments of Harry's laboratory. Barbara began her tasks as private
tutor with such zest that for several days the essay "on Education in
America," was quite forgotten. One morning she opened her desk
for writing materials, and the sheet of paper with the opening sen-
tence of the essay stared her in the face. " I must go right to work
upon it," she thought, "or the time for the regular meeting ol the
society will fly round, and I will not be prepared." She wrote
eao-erlV hour after hour, quite unmindful of fatigue, for her heart was
in'the work, — her national pride was touched as well as her love for
her Alma Mater. She wanted her audience to understand all the
excellences of her beloved Vassar. Quite a pile of manuscript lay
on the desk beside her, — it was time to think of drawing the essay to
a close, or it would take an unconscionable time in the reading. Just
then the maid entered the room and handed her a card, — Miss
Featherstonhaugh. She laid aside her pen and ran down to the
drawing-room with flushed cheeks. Gladys had been conversmg
with Mrs. Atchison, and Barbara heard the latter say, " It is really a
very sad case. I will go in to Manchester and see if I can get the'
poor thing admitted to some hospital."
"Who is it?"- ^>arbara asked. " Is it the mother of the little girl
of whom you spoke to me?"
V. ^^The mother died ^-esterday," Glad3's replied, "and the people
elame to me at once to have the child taken away; but in this interval
tthe poor little thing has been taken ill with scarlet fover, and the
managers of the orphan asylum very properly refuse to receive her
for foar of contagion for the other inmates. The people threaten to
leave her in a ditch, and have announced their intention of travelling
on without her to-morrow morning. I had hoped that Mrs. Atchison
might know of some woman who could be induced by good wages to
nurse the^child until she recovers, when the asylum is ready to receive
her." \
no THREE VASSAR GIRLS IN ENGLAND. 4j
A pained look crossed Mrs. Atchison's kind face. " I will take
her into this house gladly," she said, " if I can induce any of the
maids to take care of her."
"Oh! will you, auntie?" Barbara exclaimed, with delight, "then
let me nurse the little thing; for once in my life I shall be doing
something really useful."
"You!" exclaimed both Mrs. Atchison and Miss Featherston-
haugh, in unanimous surprise.
"Why npt, it can't be so' very difficult, the doctor will tell me'
what to do."
"But how about your essay for our club?" asked Miss Feather- (
stonhaugh.
" Oh! that is nearly written, and I daresay I shall have plenty of
time to finish it between doses." -
"But you can't read it, m}^ dear," explained Mrs. Atchison; "you/
forget that you will have to be isolated from every one on account of li
contagion. You would have to remain a prisoner in your own room,[j
with only a solitary walk in the park occasionally by way of diver-!;!
sion. I fear your health will give way, and I do not think I can,
allow'it."
"Nonsense!" exclaimed Barbara. "I am thoroughly well, and \
equal to an}^ kind of a strain. Of the two things it is a great deal Z*
more important that this baby should be taken care of than that the(,i
club should enjoy my essay, inestimable privilege though it woulfld
doubtless be. Where is the child? Shall I go with you, Misk
Featherstonhaugh, — how are we to bring her here?" She spoke
gayly, and Gladys could not guess what a trial it was to her to give 'j
up the reading.
Mrs. Atchison rang for a servant. " Have the phaeton brought to
the door at once," she said; adding to Barbara, "well, my dear, since
you are determined upon it, I will 'not forbid you, only if I see that
your health is suffering you must let me interfere. I will see imme-
SWEET GIRL GRADUATES.
Ill
liately that a cot is placed in your room, and everything shall be
n readiness for the child's reception."
As Barbara flew up-stairs for her hat and wraps she met Joe.
'You poor fellow!" she exclaimed, "must I give up teaching you, I
vonder."
" What's up, Miss ? " Joe asked, anxiously.
^C^^"^^ ■:: ^^^^^
AT THE CABIN DOOR.
Barbara explained the facts in the case, and Joe replied eagerly.
r I'm in luck. Miss, I've had it. 'Twon't do me no harm to come into
the room and say my lessons. Mebbe I can help you too in nussin'
the little un."
"I don't know about that," Barbara replied; "we must keep as
solated as possible on account of the family, but perhaps we can
meet for recitation on the upper piazza just outside my whidow, where
I can watch the child and run to her if she cries."
1
112 THREE VASSAR GIRLS IN ENGLAND.
" I'll drive you over to the shanty," Joe volunteered. " 'Taint i
likely Mrs. Atchison would like to have Master Harry expose hisself
and the coachman w^ould lose his situation first."
Gladys parted fi^om them at the cabin-door. "You must read us
your essay when 3^ou are out of quarantine," she said, " and meantime
I want you to know that I have underestimated you, but I shall dc
so no longer. You are braver and more unselfish than I could ever
be. You are the noblest girl that I have ever know^n." f,
I
MAUD'S SKETCHING TOUR. 113
CHAPTER VII.
maud's sketching tour. bulletin three:— the THAMES.
-pHE days crept slowly by and spring glided into summer. The
1 task which Barbara had imposed upon herself was more wear-
ng than she had imagined. The loneliness, the lack of sleep, and
he constant care were a strain under which even her fine physique
3ent slightly, but she was too proud and too unselfish to complain.
She bore up bravely from day to day, amusing her little charge with
^ames and dolls, as after the crisis the peevishness of convalescence
:00k the place of more alarming symptoms. Mrs. Atchison allowed
|oe to act as nurse daily for half an hour, so that Barbara could keep
up her habit of a walk in the grounds, and the lessons were continued
an the verandah roof as Barbara had suggested, while the small
patient enjoyed her afternoon nap. These lessons were her only
uiiusement, for Joe progressed rapidly, and was profoundly grateful.
Mrs. Atchison prepared tempting little lunches, and Miss Featherston-
haugh sent in books and periodicals, but Barbara found that the
double task of nursing and teaching left her too tired to read any-
thing but letters. These came at regular intervals from her father in
America, and from Saint and Maud. One arrived from Saint early
in Barbara's imprisonment, and we will glance over her shoulder
while she reads it.
"On the Thames.
" Beloved Barbara, — I am seated in a row-boat and scratching
away upon one of Maud's sketching-blocks while we drift evenly and
o-ently down the stream. How I came in just this situation I will
H
THREE VASSAR GIRLS IN ENGLAND.
\
leave for further development, as I think a consecutive story is th
least confusing, and I believe Maud wrote you last just after our
arrival in Oxford.
"We stopped at the Randolph Hotel, which Mr. Atchison recom-
mended, and Dick paid his respects to us early in the evening. The
next day he very kindly took us about every where, — to Christ ChurchJ
Oriel, Merton, and Magdalen Colleges in the "morning, and to otheif'''
places of intetestf
in the afternooni
Magdalen is by fa^|
the
most interest-!
ingto me, although!
Christ Church is"
more pretentious
architecturally, and
its kitchens are
V e r 3' curious.
There are some old
symbolic images in
the Magdalen
quadrangle which
are funny beyond
description. They
represent the Vir-
tues and the Vices,
and reminded me
Dick informed us that
MAKING UP THE JOURNAL.
of the gargoyles we saw at Batalha in Portugal
his sister, Mrs. Isham, and her reverend husband, were to come to
Oxford that afternoon, Mr. Isham to attend some ecclesiastical coun-
cil, and Mrs. Isham to grace with him a grand dinner at the house
of the Canon of something or other. We met her at luncheon ; she
was very sweet and lovely, and reminded me of her mother; Mr.
MARY PLIGHTING HER TROTHt^
MAUD'S SKETCHING TOUR. II7
Isham is a jolly, red-faced man, not in the least one's idea of a clergy-
man. She inquired how long we intended to stay in Oxford, and
thought two days entirely too short a time. Dick lamented that we
had not waited for Commemoration Week in June, when the place is
very gay, and he insisted that we must have a picnic somewhere to
try the boating. Then Mrs. Isham proposed a charming plan, which
we have since" carried out. ' I do not care to remain in Oxford after
the dinner,' she said; Svhy can't you let me chaperone the young
ladies, and we will hire a boat and make a rowing-party down the
river to our home. I would enjoy such an outing immensely.' The
Ishams live at Great Marlow, about eighteen miles from Wind-
sor, and over fifty from Oxford. This will give us three days on the
river, with stops at all sorts of enchanting places and a visit at Mrs.
Isham's as a finale. Of course we were delighted at her goodness,
and accepted with enthusiasm. Dick said that as Mr. Isham was
obliged to remain to the council, and one oarsman was rather a
smatl working crew, he would like to have the privilege of inviting
a friend to Thare the excursion. He informed us that there were
some thirty Americans studying at Oxford, and that he knew one, a
heretical but bright young man from Chicago, who was one of the
Baliol set, whom he thought we would all like. Mrs. Isham gave
him carte blanche, and of course we had nothing to say.
The afternoon was devoted to more colleges, — Queen's, New Col-
lege with its lovely gardens, All Souls with its interesting library
quadrangle. Brasenose, an actual nose sniffing the air over the
entrance, the Bodleian Library, the Martyr's Memorial, erected to
Cranmer, Latimer, and Ridley, who were burned here in T555; the
Taylor Institute, with its gallery of paintings, and its original draw-
ings by Raphael and Michael Angelo, and the Observatory in the
ev^'ening. Saturn with his rings looked just as familiar as the last
time he looked in upon us at one of Miss Mitchell's observatory
receptions. We had seen a great deal too much for one day; but I
Il8 THREE VASSAR GIRLS IN ENGLAND. 'j
think that the Martyrs' Memorial made the deepest impression on my
mind. It took me back to the relics of the Inquisition which we saw
in Spain, and I dreamed that night that I was wandering in the gloomy
labyrinths of the Escorial. There was an odd method in my mad-
ness, too, for it was for love of Philip II. of Spain that Queen Mary
planted the Inquisition in England. I think her constancy and devo-
tion to that man, from the time that she secreth' plighted her troth to
him before the Virgin in her private chapel, th1"ough the long list of
her terrible but conscientious crimes, down to her death, forsaken- and
broken-hearted, — is one of the most pitiful pages in history.
" Our last day I insisted rather selfishly on driving to Blenheim,
the site of Woodstock, and the famous maze in which Henry II. hid
Rosamond Clifford from Queen Eleanor. Maud was very sweet in
giving up some sketching in Oxford to my mania for following up the
Waverley Novels, but I do not think that after it was over she regretted
the day, for we had a charming drive in an odd little jaunting-car,
with a queer character for a driver, a perfect enc3''clopaedia in the way
of local information. There is not a vestige of the original ^ Bower.'
The place was given by the nation to the Duke of Marlborough, and
named for his great victory. He erected a grand palace here, with a
rich picture-galler}^ and other delights which I cannot begin to
describe. The park is ingeniously planted in groups of oaks and
cedars to represent the battle of Blenheim, each battalion of soldiers
being figured by a distinct plantation of trees. Southey's poem,
M^hich I learned when a ver}^ little girl, would keep perversely running
in my head, and I could not refrain from asking: —
""^But what good came of it at last?' with little Peterkin.
"On our return to Oxford in the evening, a very odd thing hap-
pened. Dick Atchison called to say that he had secured another
oarsman for our excursion. And of all persons in the world whom
do you think it turned out to be.^ None other than John Feather-
stonhaugh. It seems that Dick happened to come a:cross him here in
i'ajJiiiife:'^
^<^^
^>^
^■??'
BLENHEIM.
MAUD'S SKETCHING TOUR. I2i
Oxford, that he is on his way to Windsor, and that he accepted very
complaisantly the offer of a bench and an oar in our boat. So here
Ave are booked for a three da3's tete-a-tete. If he conducts himself
as well as he has done this morning I shall have no cause to com-
plain. So far he has devoted himself very gallantly to Mrs. Isham,
and as Maud and Dick are capital friends, I sit in the stern, mind
the rudder on occasion, and scribble to you. An opportunity has just
occurred to post this letter.
" Hastily, Cecilia."
The boating-trip down the Thames proved a most delightful expe-
rience. The more the girls saAV of Mrs. Isham the more the}' felt
themselves drawn to the lovely little lad}'. Though habitually cheer-
ful and animated, they noticed that when the conversation lagged a
pensive shade crossed her face, and she would remain for some time
silent and distraught. Dick gave Maud the clew to her melancholy.
She had lost a little daughter a year before, and this visit to Oxford
had been her first appearance among her friends since the sad event.
He hoped that this excursion would do her good, and the party one
and all exerted themselves to draw her out of herself.
They had passed a quiet Sunday at Oxford, and had started on
their trip so early Monday morning that they breakfasted at Nune-
ham, a favorite spot for picnics from Oxford, and one of the most
enchanting little Edens on the river. They moored their boat close
to the bank, and spread their cloth within view of the graceful bridge.
Dick had coffee made at one of the cottages, and Mrs. Isham dis-
played the cold luncheon which she had put up at Oxford. A boy
happened along with a cabbage-leaf filled with tempting strawberries,
and they ate with appetites sharpened by the early pull down the
river. After breakfast they strolled together over the park belonging
to the mansion of the Harcourt family, inspecting its tasteful gardens,
with their terraces, orangeries, and rosaries, and rambling by many
122
THREE VASSAR GIRLS IN ENGLAND.
charming cottages. Maud made a hasty sketch of the bridge, and "'
then all embarked for a steady row to Day's Lock, with only a peep
at Abingdon on the way. The locks were an interesting feature to (
the girls, as were the picturesque inns which marked their 'progress. '
PICNIC AT NUNEHAM.
They lunched at the " Barley Mow," and Saint began a list of the
suggestive names of riverside hostelries. Slipping under Shillingford
Bridge, and cheering their flagging energies with the " Canadian Boat-
song," the party drew in their oars at Wallingford, deciding to spend
the night at the " Town Arms." After dinner Dick announced his
MAUD'S SKETCHING TOUR.
123
intention of looking up a fisherman of his acquaintance by the name
of Cloudesley.
"Is he a descendant of the outlaw of that name?" Maud asked.
" Don't 3'ou remember,
Saint, '■ Clim of the ' \
Cleugh, and William of .li'liilr';.
Cloudesley,' \\\ the old
ballad that Bishop Coxe
read us one evening
at Vassar? "
"He is so ver}- re- ,,,^^
spectable," Dick re- ^^^^p£ :
plied, "that I tear he ^
would resent the idea.
Dick departed in
search of his aquatic
acquaintance, and the
others followed John
Featherstonhaugh's
guidance in a visit to
the ruins of the castle
where the Empress
Maud was besieged by
King Stephen after her
flight from Oxford.
"I wonder w^hy it
is," Maud asked, " that
Dick persisted in calling me Empress Maud after the party at Chats-
worth? I was not trying to escape from any one."
"When Maud fled from Oxford," John Featherstonhaugh replied,
" it was a winter night, and she had her attendants dressed in white
to escape observation as they glided over the snow."
ESCAPE OF EMPRESS MAUD.
124 THREE VASSAR GIRLS IN ENGLAND.
" And I wore white at the lawn-party, but not from fear of any
King Stephen."
"Was it not rather to attract the attention of Oxford?" Saint
asked, mischievously.
"Now, Saint, that is really malicious. I decline your company
home after such unkindness. I am going to escort Mrs. Isham, and
leave you to Mr. Featherstonhaugh."
"Is my society to be considered in the light of a penalty?" the
young architect asked, as he took his place respectfully by Saint's
side.
"Mrs. \7m. Vechten tells me you have been visiting with my sis-
ter; I should like to have your opinion of her."
"It is doubtless higher than hers of me. I was a part}^ to a little
trick whose bearings I do not think I entirely realized at the time;"
and Saint gave the young man a detailed account of her experiences
in Warwickshire.
" Gladys can enjoy a joke even at her own expense," John Feather-
stonhaugh replied. "I wonder what her impressions of Miss Atchi-
son were. She would hardly have taken her for an English girl.
Saint took this as an aspersion against her friend, and fired up at
once. " If she ever really knows Barb," she said, " she will discover
that she is worth ten such girls as I am."
John Featherstonhaugh smiled oddly; "It would be hardly polite
for me to agree with you," he replied.
The second day they pursued their journey as far as Sonning,
making their longest halt at Mapledurham, which Maud agreed had
been rightly called a Painter's Paradise. Here they left their boat
with the keeper of the lock to be brought on to them at the Roe-
buck Inn, a mile further down the river. They then hired a wagon-
ette and drove to Hardwicke House, a fine old Tudor mansion, one
of the hiding-places of Charles II. Their drive took them past the
Mapledurham Mill as well, the most paintable on the river; but when
MAUD'S SKETCHING TOUR. I 25
Maud attempted to use her pencils she found that the rowing in which
she had indulged freely the day before had cramped and blistered her
hands to such an extent that sketching was out of the question. As
they passed the seat of the Blounts John Featherstonhaugh explained
the characteristics of the Elizabethan style of architecture, with its
broad expanses of windows, letting sheets of light into every
apartment. "You must have noticed this peculiarity at the Peak,"
he said, " and perhaps have heard the couplet, —
" ' Haddon Hall
More glass than wall.' '
From the Elizabethan he branched oft' to a short explanation of
the Queen Anne style, and the ride to the Roebuck Inn seemed to all
a remarkably short one. They lunched leisurely, for their boat was
not in sight; and it was not until Dick had searched vigorously for
some time that he discovered that the lock-keeper's shockheaded
boy had moored it under the willows, and was calmly fishing for
chub. "Don't stop to go snipe-shooting on your way back," was
Dick's parting injunction, as he gave the wagonette into the charge
of the culprit, and assisted the girls once more into the boat.
" I shall not row again to-day," Maud said, rather ruefully, as she
regarded her blistered hands. "I can\ aftord to lose these lovely
views
There is no need of any of us taking an oar this afternoon," Dick
replied. " There is a good bit of towing as you near Sonning."
"You don't mean to go down in the wake of a steam-launch?"
" Or to engage a boy and horse in canal-boat style ? "
"No, indeed; two of us will take a line and run along the parade
on the margin of the river. It gives a change of exercise, and is the
regular thing which all pleasure-parties do about here."
This v/as indeed a novel experience. All the length of the tow--
path they overtook and were passed by merry parties of young
126
THREE VASSAR GIRLS IN ENGLAND.
men in gay boating costumes, and young girls, evidently from the,
best circles of English societ}^, tripping gayly along with their boatsj
in tow; and very often their comfortable mammas seated composedly!
therein, regarding their lively teams with serene complaisance. Whilej:
Maud and Dick carried the towing-line together they compared their
plans for the future. " 1|'.
know you won't believe;
it," Dick said, after listen4
ing to Maud for a time,*^
" but I mean to be a
worker, too."
"In what line, pray?"
" In father's. I am go-
ing to have him start me
m
as a manufacturer
America."
" In America.^ "
" Yes, everything is
moving that vvay, and
father invested in some
land in Alabama v/hen he
was over there. There's
immense water-power on
it, and he means to put
up a mill. It is in one
of the cotton-producing
States, and there are
hordes of negroes all
around who need employment. I , have about persuaded father
to let me go over and run the thing for him as soon as I am grad-
uated."
"The idea quite fires one's imagination, but will it pay?"
(U<^6«.
ON THE TOW-PATH.
MAUD'S SKETCHING TOUR. 1 27 H
" It will pay fast enough if lather makes up his mind to undertake it.
He is slow and sure. It would kill me to settle down in Manchester,
and just grind on in lather's footsteps. I want to found an enter-
prise of my own. Now Tom is a regular conservative, but circum-
stances lately have led my consideration to the States; they are bound
to 0-0 ahead of us in the future, and I want to be one of the new
movement. All wide-awake men are looking toward America.
Gladstone agrees with me."
Maud smiled at the unconscious arrogance with which this asser-
tion was made.
" When did you explain your opinions to Gladstone ? " she inquired,
demurely.
Dick flushed. '' I have gained them in part from him," he con-
fessed. " I had a thesis on America in which I quoted from him
largely, and can reel off his very words. He believes that you are
going to run us out on manufactures and in commercial pre-eminence.
He says, ' America will probably become, what we are now, the head
servant in the great household of the world, the emp:oyer of all
employed, because her service will be the most and ablest. . We have
no more title against her than Venice, or Genoa, or Holland has had
against us.' "
" That is generous I am sure. I have a better opinion of Glad-
stone than ever before, and that's saying a great deal. But how will
Miss Featherstonhaugh enjoy emigrating to America ? "
"Gladys? Oh! she and Tom are of one mind; they would both
be content to stay in England forever."
" But I thought you admired her especially."
" I'm in duty bound to do so since she is to be my sister some day."
"Is she engaged to your brother Tom? "
"Yes, that was all satisfactorily arranged when they were in pina-
fores. It is a Hngering complaint, and there is no telling just when
it will prove fatal, though I believe it is considered quite incurable."
12;
THREE VASSAR GIRLS IN ENGLAND.
"What hinders their being married at once?"
" Gladys is too good a daughter to take her mother away from the
Manor, or to leave her for any long period, and Worcester is rather a
longish distance from the Peak. So they have concluded to vv^ait.
It's quite the regular way here in England. Jacob and Rachel are
nothing in comparison."
While Maud and Dick were on the tow-path Saint sat dreamily
a: the helm listening to John Featherstonhaugh's pleasant voice as he
read from a volume of poems. The finely-modulated cadences
seemed to keep time with the soft thud of the waves against the side
of the boat, as the current swirled on, reminding her of the " master-
poet's " description of the Avon.
" Giving a gentle kiss to every sedge
It overtaketh in its pilgrimage."
Mrs. Isham's slender fingers were busy with some gossamer
crochet, and a sweet smile lit her face. Sad thoughts had vanished,
and her attention was held by the story. Saint could not have told
what the poem was, but the picture remained long in her memory —
the shimmer of light upon the water, the puffs of cool air playing
with Mrs. Isham's beautiful hair, and John Featherstonhaugh's intel-
ligent, manly face.
" There is something in him that I really respect and like," she
thought to herself, "if he will only please not like me; and indeed he
is doing very well, he is actually endurable."
They put up that night at the " French Horn," and made an early
fishing-party the next morning, catching a good basket of trout, bar-
bel, and perch in the lock pools before breakfast. They passed
Henley that morning, noted for its swans, its beautiful old church,
and for the annual regatta which Charles Reade describes in " Very
Hard Cash." The longest halts of the da}' were made at Medmen-
ham and Bisham Abbey — picturesque old structures in the midst of
country filled with charming cottages nearly covered with greenery,
I
MAUD'S SKETCHING TOUR.
131
fascinating moated granges, churches covered with ivy, and suggestive
gHmpses of village spires over clustering foliage. Just as evening fell
they drew^ in their oars at Marlow Bridge, where Mrs. Isham's
phaeton was found awaiting them. Mrs. Isham and the girls drove
across to the vicarage, while Dick and John Featherstonhaugh
bestowed the boat in proper keeping and followed them on foot.
The vicarage had every appearance of being the home of cultivated
and happy people, but on entering her own doorway the shadow
which had been lifted for a time from Mrs. Isham's face fell once
more, and she was unable to join them at dinner. A crayon head
of the little child whom she had lost hung over the mantel, and all
conversed that evening in more subdued tones. Saint seated herself
at the piano and sang a selection from "Jean Ingelow," to which she
had herself composed a simple but sympathetic accompaniment: —
" When I remember something which I had,
But which is gone, and I must do without,
I sometimes wonder how I can be glad.
Even in cowslip time, Avhen hedges sprout,
It makes me sigh to think on it, but yet
My days will not be better days should I forget."
Mrs. Isham, sitting in her darkened room with the door ajar, heard
it and was comforted.
They had planned to part here; Dick to return to Oxford, and the
girls to continue their journe}^ to London by rail. But John Feather-
stonhaugh's destination was Windsor, and Dick pleaded so strongly for
one more day on the river that the girls relented; and, bidding a regret-
ful farewell to Mrs. Isham, the next day found them once more in
their boat. From Marlow to Windsor the scenery increases in love-
liness; Cookham, Ray Mead, Cliveden, have all been praised by poet
and artist. They left their boat at Maidenhead for a drive to the
celebrated Burnham Beeches, — a grove of gnarled and hoary giants
which Maud declared were each of them enchanted Druids, stiffened
132
THREE VASSAR GIRLS IN ENGLAND.
to trees in the act of extending their gaunt arms at one of their mys-
terious orgies. A brisk row from Maidenhead brought them to
Monkey Island, named from a room in this inn, once a pleasure-house
of the Duke of Marlborough, and grotesquely frescoed by him with
frolicsome monkeys. They progressed during the afternoon chiefly
by towing. They passed Windsor, intending to visit Eton and to
return in time to dine at the "White Hart," where they would separ-
ate. They threaded the border of the royal park, walking through
i^^^^T^)}^.'
GUIDING THE RUDDER.
her majesty's private property, where none but persons towing a boat
were allowed on shore. The}' glanced about from time to time, half
expecting to meet some member of the royal household, and enliv-
ened the way with the pleasant confidential chat with which friends
will fill their last hours together. Maud and Dick talked of America,
Maud taking an almost maternal interest in the young man's plans.
She thought him very immature, and considered that she was im-
MAUD'S SKETCHING TOUR. jo^
mensely his superior in experience and in knowledge of the world,
but for all this he interested her, and she gave him a great deal of
valuable information touching the New World, to which he was
going.
Was there something confidence-provoking in the clear blue sk}-
and delicious air? Saint and John Featherstonhaugh, in the gently-
moving boat, were at the same time conversing without restraint in a
frank and friendly "fashion, which a few days previous Saint would
hardl}' have thought possible. " He is really a very good fellow," she
thought. "I wish he were my brother"; and then he entirely de-
stro3'ed the good opinion which she had grudgingly granted him by
saying: —
"Miss Boylston, I cannot flatter myself that you recollect it, but
once in Portugal I was very near telling you a secret which has an
important bearing on my life."
Saint stiffened at once, leaned back in her seat, and tightened her
grasp on the rudder-ropes. "I wish he would keep his secrets to him-
self," she thought, and she added aloud, " Secrets are unpleasant things.
I really believe we would be better friends if you did not trust me
with yours. I might betra}' it or something."
"I do not care how soon you betra}' it, indeed I cannot keep it
any longer myself."
"O dear," she thought again, "this is quite hopeless; well, if he
-will bring it upon himself it is not my fault. I have done all I could
to keep him from speaking.''
" I want your advice," John Featherstonhaugh w^ent on.
" I think I have alread}^ given it," Saint replied, looking away
toward Maud, and waving her veil in the vain hope that she would
come to the rescue.
"But 3^ou do not know the circumstances of the case. It's the old
stor3^ I want to know whether you think I can make myself worthy
of some one of whom I am very fond."
134
THREE VASSAR GIRLS IN ENGLAND.
" It isn't a question of being worthy. It is whether she cares suffi-
ciently for you."
"And 'you are in the position to give me that information. A
touch to the rudder now may give a different direction to my life'
course.'
Saint was driven to desperation. " I had rather you had not asked
me the question," she replied, " for I am sure my answer will not
WINDSOR CASTLE.
please you." It was on her lip to add: " I do not wish to marry any
one. I could never care for an}^ person as I do for my music," — 7 but
something made her pause, and ask abruptly, " but you have not told
me who she is? "
That evening Maud wrote from Windsor: —
"Dearest Barb, — We are having the most charming time con-
ceivable. I sent you the pencilled jottings in my diary from Marlow,
MAUD'S SKETCHING TOUR. I,y
but I neglected to tell 3011 that I have urged Mrs. Isham to make a
visit at her father's house while you are there. I believe you onlv
can permanently cheer her up. You are a sunbeam, Barb, and it
is 3^our province in life to gladden people's hearts. And you will
alwa3-s have your hands full. You know Confucius sa3's, ' Make
happy those that are near, and those that are far will come.'
"We had a ver3^ pleasant run down the river from Marlow, with a
good deal of towing, while Dick and I had charge of the lines. I
should judge that Saint and John Featherstonhaugh had some ver3'
interesting conversation. At least they were quite oblivious to the
most remarkable points in the scener3-, and allowed us to walk along
the tow-path until I was nearl3' read3' ^° drop, without once offering
to take the lines. Moreover Saint's attitude toward the 3^oung man
has entirel}' changed. ^- He seems to meet with 3'our unquaHfied
approval,' I said to her just now, and she replied that she had never
had but one objection to him. ^Then he has not freed his mind?'
I asked. ^ Completel3^, and I think he was rather pleased with m3'
answer.' I must confess that I was thunderstruck. ' You don't mean
to sa3^ that 3'ou encouraged him! ' I exclaimed.
" She smiled in her calmest and most provoking wa3\ ^ All in
m3' power,' she said, and refused to add another Avord. However,
she has promised to tell me everything to-morrow when I go out to
sketch Windsor Castle.
'*" Dick has gone back to Oxford, and John Featherstonhaugh has
also departed, but he is to show us over the Castle to-morrow.
We are staying at the ''Star and Garter" of the Merrie Wives of
Windsor, for merrie maids are we. Ever34hing hereabouts is ver3'
fascinating, but we can onl3' stop long enough for a peep at Stoke
Pogis, where Gra3' wrote his "Eleg3'; " then Hampton Court, Rich-
mond, and London, with its solid work at South Kensington.
" My light burns low.
" Lovingly, Maud."
U8
THREE VASSAR GIRLS IN ENGLAND.
" I subjoin Saint's list of Thames River hostleries: The Plough,
the Crown and Thistle, King's Arms, the Nag's Head, the Rising
Sun, the Anchor, the Swan, White Hart, the Lamb, the Feathers,
the Beetle and Wedge, the Leather Bottle, the Bull, the Miller
of Mansfield, the Elephant and Castle, Cross Keys, the Dread-
nought, the French Horn, the Angel, Red Lion, the Catherine
Wheel, Carpenters' Arms, Two Brewers, the Bear, the Flower-
pot, George and Dragon, the Anglers, Fisherman's Retreat, Sara-
cen's Head, Star and Garter, the Crown and Cushion, Royal Oak,
Royal Stag, Morning Star, Bells of Ousle}^, the Packhorse, the
Cricketers, the Horseshoes, the Old Manor, the Magpie, the Mitre,
the Griffin, the Outrigger, the Ram, the King's Head, Three
PigeonSj Compasses, Old Ship, and the London Apprentice. Are
they not amusing?"
BARBARA'S LOG. jog
CHAPTER VIII.
Barbara's log. — chip the first.
JUNE was dying into July. The air, even at the Peak, was warm
and close, while at Manchester it was suffocating. Barbara's
little charge had entirely recovered, and was running merrily about
the house, winning all hearts with her childish prattle; but Barbara
herself drooped. She lay listlessly upon the sofa, only rousing to
hear Joe's lessons or to aid in stitching the little frocks which Mrs.
Atchison had cut for Tina. She was not really ill, she declared, as
Mr. Atchison took her languid hand in his large and kindly one, only
tired; she would be rested by-and-by.
" ril tell you what will rest 3'ou, and what we all need," he re-
plied, "a yachting trip. It is time we organized our cruise in the
" Coal-Scuttle." Dick will be back from Oxford in a few days. Tom
can't leave his business at Worcester, poor fellow, but we'll invite
Glad3-s to represent him, and we'll have Ethel up' from Great Marlow.
Your friend was right when she wrote that onl}' you, Barbara, could
cheer her and draw her out of herself, but 3'ou can't do that without
cheering up a little yourself first. Joe shall go too; we'll put him in as
assistant engineer, the butler shall be steward, and one of the house-
maids stewardess. Dick shall run down to Liverpool and engage
two or three able seamen as crew, and we'll load in a cord or so of
novels as ballast. Then we'll pack the baby off to the As3^1um,
weigh anchor, and 3'ou shall keep the log. What do 3'ou sa3^ to
the plan, eh, Barbara? "
" I like it all but the leaving out of Tina. Wh3^ not take her
with us ? "
J .Q THREE VASSAR GIRLS IN ENGLAND.
" I am afraid she will remind Ethel too strongly of the little one
she has lost. However, it ma}^ not be so; we will see how the child
affects her when she arrives."
"Where shall we go, Cousin Acherly?"
" From the Isle of Man to the Isle of Wight. This will take us
down the Welsh coast and along the south of England. Then we
could have your friends from London to meet us, and make a run
with them across the channel. Or, if you are tired by that time of
salt-water, we'll send the crew back with the yacht, and we'll go up to
London ourselves, and spend a few weeks in town. Ah! 3'Our color
begins to brighten ! That's good. We'll sail at the earliest possible
moment."
Barbara in looking over her effects to decide what should fill the
lockers of her stateroom, opened once more the silver-hasped desk
which had once belonged to her great-aunt Atchison. "Uncle
Acherly spoke of laying in a supply of novels," she said to herself.
" I am sure these letters look a great deal more fascinating. Why,
here is one from Lady Morgan, the authoress, and another from the
Countess of Craven, who was once an actress at Covent Garden, and
here is quite a little packet from Her Grace the Duchess of Devon-
shire, the friend of Fox and the Whigs. We will keep them for
rainy-day reading in the cabin, for I am sure that Gladys will be as
much interested in them as I."
Just then her eye fell upon her unfinished essa}^ " I'll put that in
too," she thought; "perhaps I shall feel bright enough to complete it
before the voyage is over. I imagined that I should have read it ere
this and fancied I was to achieve a real triumph. Instead of that I've
wasted half the summer and accomplished nothing worth speaking
of. What a good-for-nothing girl I am! "
Mrs. Isham arrived a few days later. To the surprise of every one
Tina seemed to exercise a very happy influence upon her. She
insisted on relieving Barbara of her care, and took upon herself the
BARBARA'S LOG.
141
task of finishing the small wardrobe. She even wrote home for
certain articles which had belonoed to her own little daughter.
" I do not know how this will end," Mrs. Atchison said to Barbara,
" If Ethel's interest in the child increases during the voyage she will
never consent to part from her."
" Will Mr. Isham be likely to favor her adoption? "
"I cannot say. He will meet us at the Isle of Wight, and cer-
tainly this is a very auspicious beginning."
On a sunshiny day in July, when only flying clouds were scud-
ding like white sails across the sky
to give countenance to the falling
barometer, the high-sided, tight lit-
tle steam-launch dropped down the
Merse}^ its muddy tide bringing
out the old jest, —
" The quality of mercy is not
strained."
The party on board were full of
spirits; they inspected every detail of
the little craft, and had lavished
their praise on the bright brasses,
the neat linen, the shining glass, the
mahogany fittings, and the finely-
working machinery. They had taken camp-chairs on deck, and Bar-
bara Avas already beginning her log with statistics relative to course,
speed, wind, and barometer. We shall not take literal bits from this
log, for these are just the matters for which we do not care, while the
occurrences which we would most like to know, the conversations to
which we w^ould care to listen, were not written.
Suddenly the coffee-colored water merged into green, and thev
were on the Irish Sea. It was a chopping sea, and the " Coal-Scuttle "
pitched unpleasantl3^ Moreover, there was now a hint of rain in the
atmosphere, and the decks were growing moist and slippery.
AUGUSTUS.
H:
THREE VASSAR GIRLS IN ENGLAND.
" Let US seek the seclusion which the cabin grants," sang Barbara;
and the party with one accord went below, Harry clamoring for an
early luncheon. But here it presently transpired that Augustus, the
dignified footman, who was to act as steward, was very sea-sick, and
Bessie, the maid, found it quite impossible to solve the mysteries of the
pantry. Mrs. Atchison and Barbara at once set to work, and a satis-
factory meal was soon spread. With the. exception of Augustus, none
of the party suffered from sea-sickness, and after luncheon all donned
their mackintoshes and mounted for a short time to the deck. Then
followed games of chess and reading about the cozy cabin table, and all
were surprised when Mr. Atchison announced that the passage, seventy-
five miles, had been made and that the Isle of Man was in sight. The
weather had cleared and the sun was
setting as they entered Douglas Ba}^;
their first day's voyage was over. They
devoted only two days to the island,
makinof the tour in waoonettes, and
having the 3'acht meet them at the Peel,
on the Irish Sea. They visited the
castle so connected in its associations
with "Peveril of the Peak," and Barbara
invested in the wooden spoons sold as
souvenirs, and the pictorial note-paper
on which to write letters to Saint and Maud. The queer device so
inappropriately styled the Arms of Man — consisting of three human
legs, apparently in rapid retreat — met their eye everywhere and never
failed to excite their laughter. They commented upon the soft dialect
with its use of " wass," so markedly resembling that of the Princess
of Thule; they sought out runic stones; and Barbara jotted down a
number of fairy stories religiously believed in by an old crone who
repeated them to her. One was of an elf-child, left in a human home
and nursed and brought up by the mother, who mistook it for her
BARBARA'S LOG. 1^2
own, which had been carried away by the fairies. One night the
mother missed her charge, and following found it dancing on the
birch with its fairy companions. When the elves saw that they were
observed they all vanished, and neither changeling nor stolen child
was ever seen again.
Gladys and Barbara were continually together, and Mr. Atchison
smiled as he saw how kindly was the glance which the undemon-
strative English girl often bent upon his niece. Barbara was speaking
to her one day of Saint. " You don't like her," she said, impulsively,
"but it is because you do not know her. I wish I could say some-
thing to make you understand her, for it is very important that you
should like each other."
" How important? " Gladys asked, carelessly.
Barbara flushed and hesitated. "Because English people and
Americans seem predetermined not to approve of one another."
" I think the reason I do not take greatly to her," Gladys replied,
^^is because she is very English. We are too much alike for me to
care for her, as I do for you, for instance."
From Man, hugging the coast of Anglesey, the " Coal-Scuttle "
dropped dowai to Carnarvon Bay. Dick informed Barbara that he
knew this portion of Wales intimately, having done it on foot a few
years before with his Brother Tom and John Featherstonhaugh.
"We had on a natural-history mania at the time, I remember," he
said. "We found one hundred and fifteen varieties of sea-weed, and
counted up one hundred and fifty-four marine animals suitable for
aquaria."
"Oh! how could you think of such things!" Barbara exclaimed,
for each turn of the boat added a new effect to the superb panorama
of town, castle, raiountains, and sky. "What glorious mountains! I
had no idea there was anything like them this side of the Alps."
" That peak is Snowdon, which we have planned to climb. Aber-
glaslyn lies away to the right," explained Mr. Atchison.
144
THREE VASSAR GIRLS IN ENGLAND.
" I have brought m}^ Alpenstock," said Gladys, " both for use
and because I have the vanity to wish another famous name carved
iipon it."
" What a wild, grand country Wales is,". said Barbara. "I don't
wonder that it is the land of Merlin, the enchanter, and the birthplace
BARDIC CONTESTS AT CARNARVON CASTLE.
of SO many of the Arthurian legends. It is a country that insists on
large^iess of the imagination."
"That word largeness is rather odd," Dick replied, "but it has a
certain fitness all the same."
BARBARA'S LOG.
H5
" Well, now that we are here," suggested Mr. Atchison, cheerily,
^^ what say you to a visit to the castle before dinner? It gives one
the same impression of vastness and grandeur."
"What order of architecture does it belonsj^ to?" Barbara asked,
CARNARVON CASTLE.
as she looked up admiringly at its massive walls of gray limestone
and millstone grit.
" It was built by Edward I,, in the thirteenth century," Dick
replied, " and I remember that John Featherstonhaugh was interested
146
THREE VASSAR GIRLS IN ENGLAND.
in making drawings of every part, and quoted Sir Christopher Wren
to prove that it was a specimen of the primitive Gothic introduced into
Europe at the time of the Crusaders, from the Saracens and Moors/'
" To see the castle at its best," remarked Gladys, " we should be
here at the time of the ^ Bardic Contests,' the national festival. Then,
I believe, the court is filled with bazaars, and gay with flags and
peasant women in plaid shawls and peaked hats."
" Who is that queer figure over the entrance," Barbara asked.
'^That is King Edward," Mr. Atchison replied; "and on the other
side of the castle we have the ^ Quieen's Gate,' named from Qiieen
Eleanor. The castle must have been perfectly impregnable at the
time that it was built, and it has nobly stood the assaults of the
most formidable of generals, Time. Only the ^ Eagle Tower,' the
one with the battlemented roof and the slender turrets yonder, has
been restored."
They remained over night in their yacht, and early next morning
chartered a stage-coach for Snowdon, b}' way of Llanberis. Mr.
Atchison had intended that Joe should remain with the crew in the
yacht, but he begged so hard to be taken with them that Barbara
interceded in his behalf. " I never seen any real mountings like that,
miss," he pleaded, " and besides, it's a mighty wild country, and some-
thin' might happen to you, miss, if I wasn't along."
The others laughed at the idea of Joe constituting himself Bar-
bara's protector, but they humored his fancy and allowed him a seat on
the rumble. The younger members of the party preferred the outside
of the vehicle, and as the scenery was increasingly grand, the route
running between beautiful lakes, rocky precipices, fantastic peaks, and
frightful chasms, the ride was one continual exclamation of surprise
and deli2:ht. Now, Barbara and Dick had a discussion, as to whether
the bird dropping majestically from a pine on a lofty crag were an
osprey or an eagle. Now they paused by the side of a deep, still lake
for Harry to scramble down and secure some of the exquisite water-
BARBARA'S LOG.
147
lilies; and again they passed some comical peasant women in an absurd
steeple-hat, or drew rein at the foot of Castell Dolbadarn, now a pic-
turesque ruin, but in the thirteenth century the most important fortress
in North Wales. Barbara and Gladys sat side by side, and more
than once in that memorable ride
their hands clasped in mute awe
before the stupendous masses of
rock and the grandeur of the cata-
racts of the Ceunant Mawr. The
region has been appropriately called
" a district of disorder, a place where
woods, and waves, and winds, and
waters were ming-led toa;ether in the
shapeless majesty of chaos."
At the village of Llanberis they
secured the services of a son of
Moses Williams, the celebrated
Snowdonian guide, and leaving the
coach at the hotel, after a trout
supper prepared to climb the moun-
tain by moonlight. The ascent was not difficult, and they paused
from time to time to look back at the lakes, stretching like dark
mirrors, with the moonlight pouring a silver shimmer over crag and
forest. Suddenly a monument of mist came billowing up a defile and
wrapped Snowdon all around like a winding-sheet. They crept close
to their guide, and Barbara's arm twined more clingingly about
Gladys' resolute form. It was neither dark nor light; they appeared
to be in a region bewitched; the cloud-forms as they approached were
gigantic, towering over the mountain peaks seen through their rifts,
but dim and spectral with a cool, soft touch as though they were
wraiths of Merlin and his fellow-wizards. And now the}' were in the
fog; wreath after wreath curled and broke about them, only disclosing
WELSH PEASANT.
148
THREE VASSAR GIRLS IN ENGLAND.
a. more impenetrable gray wall beyond. Their faces were wan and
indistinct, and their very voices sounded hollow. All at once the
girls discovered that they were alone. The others had passed on more
rapidly and had left
them behind. They
hurried forward and
called aloud, but
there was no answer.
" I am afraid we
have missed the
way," Barbara ex-
claimed, breathless-
ly, " I do not see any
path; is it possible
that we are lost? "
" It is no great
matter if we are,"
Gladj'S replied, re-
assuringly, "they
will send Mr. Wil-
liams back after us,
IN THE MIST. and there is not the
slightest danger. I think, however, we had better not go on, for we
will probably only diverge more and more from the right direction."
They sat down upon the soft heath, and Gladys drew the 3-ounger
girl close to her, wrapping her tenderly in her own Scotch shawl.
"Come under m}/ plaidie," she said, cheerfully, "and we will have
a cozy time all alone together."
"We do seem alone, do we not?" Barbara replied, with a sligh|:
shiver; "I never experienced such an overpowering sense of loneliness
in my life. Only we two in the whole wide world. Even the world
has vanished, it is only we two in space. This must be" something
like dying, only one is all — all alone then."
BARBARA'S LOG.
49
"Oh, no," Gladys replied, gravely and sweetly, "there is One who
has promised to be with us even then."
They were quiet for a few moments, and then Barbara asked,
" Did you not hear a faint, far-away cry as though it were down in
some chasm? There are no wolves on Snowdon now, are there?"
"No indeed, and I heard nothing; but I can't help thinking that it
would be far pleasanter if John were here."
" It's odd, but I was thinking of your brother too; and, Gladys, now
that we are alone, dear, I want to tell you why it is that I am so
anxious that 3'Oii should like Saint."
" I do like her, I am sure I never said that T did not, I only like
you better. But what is the famous reason?"
"Only this, that I think she may be your sister some day."
Gladys did not repl}', the wall of mist seemed to- have drifted in
between thtm, and Barbara went on eagerly: "You do not like it, I
know, but 3^ou will as 3^ou come to know her; she is so very good,
and she will come into propert}' — a relative, no a friend, is to give her
a comfortable little dowry when she marries."
" I do not think John would care for mone}^ considerations,"
Glad3'S replied, coldl3^
" No, of course not, but the3' are not to be despised all the same,
and I thought you ought to know about it."
" I like her even less for it, little Barbara. Brother John and I
have been so dear to one another that I shall have to love his choice
very much not to be jealous of her. I do not know where his e3'es
could have been to prefer Miss Boylston to some one else I could
mention."
Barbara started up. "There is that noise again, and hark! O
Glad3's, it is a wolf."
Gladys uttered a shrill, far-reaching "Coo-ee!" an African bush-
cry which she had learned from some returned travellers. The sound
came back to them not as an echo, but an articulate halloo! and a
ICO THREE VASSAR GIRLS IN ENGLAND.
moment later a bulk came plunging through the fog, apparently un-
rolling successive envelopes of mist, until Joe stood before them,
breathless, but with a glad light on his face. "I told em I'd find
you first," he exclaimed. " You be'nt either of you hurt in an}-
way ? "
"Not in the slightest," Gladys replied; "unless Barbara has taken
cold, for she has had a thorough wetting."
"Cheer up!" Joe remarked, encouragingly; "there is hot coffee
at the Summit House, and you are nearly there."
Then he blew a loud blast on a tin horn, with which each member
of the search party had provided himself, as a signal that the lost were
found, and offering an arm to each he assisted them up to Mr. Philip
Williams' refreshment rooms, where a warm welcome awaited them.
After warmth and food had done their work of cheer, the}^ stepped
out of doors once more to see the sun rise. It was a magnificent
spectacle: first a glare of red through the mists unrolling and billow-
ing away from the mountain; then a disc of gold, and the clouds
parted, showing the Menai Straits, curving like a silver- ribbon.
Anglesey purple beyond, and the Isle of Man a distant speck on the
sapphire ocean. The lakes below partook of different colors as the
light reached them, first black, then deep blue, and finally opalescent
as they flashed back the sunrise.
Mrs. Isham repeated softly one of Richardson's verses, —
" The scene is steeped in beauty,
And my soul,
No longer lingering in the shroud of care,
Doth greet creation's smile ; the gray clouds roll
E'en from the mountain peaks, and melt in air.'
But Barbara, with her eyes filled with tears, was silent.
They descended the mountain on the other side, resting at a hotel
at the foot, and waiting for their stage coach to be brought around
with Mrs. Atchison and Tina, who had not attempted the ascent.
pSiiiWfWf^^
PONT ABERGLASLYN.
BARBARA'S LOG.
153
After a refreshing sleep they drove down the pass of Nant Gwynant,
b}' the Llyn or lake of the same name, and Merlin's Fort, to the Bedd-
o;elert, where they passed the night. Here the}^ visited the grave of
Gelert and came upon ground which Agassiz had studied and made
support his theory of the glaciers. The next day's staging brought
them through the famous pass of Aberglaslyn. They passed women
in stove-pipe hats, and men, too, knitting as they tended their sheep
on the rock}' hill-sides; and the}' strapped their guide-books tight over
specimens of' Parsley and delicate Film Ferns."
Their last day of coaching carried them back to Carnarvon and to
the " Coal-Scuttle," and they were soon ploughing their way through
the blue waters of Cardigan Bay, with Snowdon and its mists as unreal
to them as the legends of Merlin.
The next afternoon it happened that as Barbara sat alone on deck
under the awning in the stern, Mr. Atchison mounted the companion-
way and came to her.
"Where are the others?" he asked, bringing a camp-stool to the
side of her reclining chair.
" They have gone forward with Dick. He assured them that they
could see the bathers at Aberystwith with his glass; but I did not care
to try, I am a little lazy, I am afraid."
Mr. Atchison took her hand kindly. ^' That experience at Snow-
don was a little rough for you," he said.
■^ Cousin Acherly," Barbara remarked abruptly, " I have never
asked you about the legacy which Aunt Atchison left me, but now I
would like if you please to understand it."
Mr. Atchison rubbed his forehead thoughtfully. " I don't quite
understand it myself," he said. "A part of it is very simple. The
legacy itself is Featherstonhaugh Manor "
Barbara sat erect. '^ How did Aunt Atchison come to own that? "
" Gladys' father was a great spendthrift, and he mortgaged it to
her for money lent him."
I rA THREE VASSAR GIRLS IN ENGLAND.
"Then Featherstonhaugh Manor belongs to me!"
" Under certain restrictions, and here comes in the part which is a
little vague. The will mentions a codicil, No. 3, and that codicil is
not to be found, though it would probably explain everything. The
Manor is 3^ours, unless some member of the Featherstonhaugh family
puts in a claim for it subject to certain conditions explained in the
lost codicil before January next, in which case you will have to be
contented with a thousand pounds from the ^contingency and charity
fund,' instead."
" And do the Featherstonhaughs know this ? "
"John, but not Glad3's. He thought it would only worry her, and
perhaps she might not be able to keep it from her mother. He hopes
to rent the propert}' from the owners, and that all ma}' continue during
his mother's life just as it is."
"And has he made no eftbrt to find the lost paper .'^"
" At first we fancied that it might be among his father's effects.
We searched thoroughly but without success, and John has given up
all hope of its discover}^"
" Of course 3'Ou looked through that desk you gave me."
"Yes; there is nothing in it but correspondence."
Barbara sighed. " I am sorry matters are in such a twist," she
said. "I had hoped it would be. simpler."
"Oh! you are nicely provided for in any event."
"Cousin Acherly, I am afraid you'll be displeased with me, — but
I have disposed of that legacy."
" Child ! What do you mean ? "
"I have made out a paper conveying it to Saint."
" But what good can landed property in England do your friend,
Miss Boylston?"
" She may decide to settle here. She has no propert}^ of her
own, and will make a better use of it than I could." ,
Mr. Atchison's shaggy brows settled down in real displeasure.
BARBARA'S LOG.
155
"And she accepted the gift, I presume, as simply as if it were a box
of gloves."
" She does not know of it as yet. I gave the paper into Maud's
keeping to give to he; at the proper time."
A TALK ABOUT BUSINESS.
"Well, of all absurd, preposterous things! I have heard of school-
girl friendship, but this surpasses everything. The matter was com-
plicated enough before, but you have got into a hopeless muddle.
We shall have to go to chancery to straighten it out. Are 3^ou sure
that you know how to make out a conveyance that will stand in law."
" It was very simple, but I tried to make it quite clear. I simpl}^
wrote: ^ I, Barbara Atchison, relinquish all title to property falling to
me through the bequest of my great-aunt, Elizabeth Atchison, of
156
THREE VASSAR GIRLS IN ENGLAND.
Rowsle}^ in Derbyshire, England, in favor of Cecilia Boylston, of
Boston, Mass.' Then I dated it and signed my name, and Maud
witnessed my signature."
Mr. Atchison pressed his lips together firmly. "You have less
sense than I thought," he said; "you are an impulsive simpleton."
He turned upon his heel and left her abruptl}^, and the tears v^elled
up in Barbara's eyes, for she was deeply hurt. Tina ran by just then,
and she stretched out her arms to the child, who only shook her
prett}^ curls, and replied, "Me don't want you; me want my Mamma
Isham."
Even the baby whom she had nursed back to life had turned
against her, and it seemed to Ba bara at that moment as if she had
lost every friend in the world. The water had turned from blue to
green; there was a capful of wind coming freshly up and bearing with
it ominous masses of gray cloud. She went below feeling that it was
quite natural that the sky should be overcast, and she lay down in
her little berth, listening desolately to the gurgling and sobbing of the
water along the sides of the yacht, and the whistling of wind in the
risforinsf. When Mrs. Atchison looked in to announce dinner she
begged to be excused, sa3^ing that she did not feel well.
" Not sea-sick, I hope," replied the good lady. " Well, it is a little
rough. I will send you some bouillon, and 3^ou must try and make
yourself take it."
When Barbara awoke a new day was shining brightly; there had
been no storm during the night, and the yacht was rising and falling
at anchor. From her port-hole she could make out the towers and
chimneys of some city, when dash came a bucketful of water into
the room. She had neglected to close the bulls-eye, and the hands
were scrubbing down the decks. She could hear animated conversa-
tion in the cabin. "We passed ^ St. David's Head' in the night,"
Dick exclaimed. " You know he is to Wales what St. Patrick is to
Ireland."
BARBARA'S LOG. 157
Harry piped up immediately, —
"There were three jolly Welshmen,
As I have heard them say ;
And they all went a hunting,
'Twas on St. David's Day."
Barbara hastened her dressing and joined the merry party at the
breakfast-table. Mr. Atchison greeted her cheerfully; perhaps his
heart smote him a little for his harsh words of yesterday. .
~ "Here we are in Milford Haven," he said. ''There are interest-
ing places all about, and we must be on shore as much as we can."
They landed opposite Milford on the Pembroke side of the bay, and
o-ave the morning to an inspection of Pembroke Castle. Then, lunch-
ing at the "Golden Lion," they took the afternoon train for Carrnar-
the.n, one of the most ancient towns in Great Britain. They spent the
night here, and rambled about its steep and crooked streets the next
morning. Harry insisted that Gladys would need her Alpenstock to
aid her in surmounting the cobble-stone pavement, and offered to carve
the name of the principal street upon it as one of the most inaccessible
peaks on the list. They had a morning glimpse at the Castle of
Carreg Cennin on its precipitous clitT, which they did not attempt
to climb, and, taking to the railroad again, dined at noon that day at
Swansea. Barbara did not care for the place apart from its beautiful
ba}', but Mr. Atchison was interested in its smelting-furnaces and
forges, for Swansea is the metal emporium of Wales. Lead, zinc,
tin, copper, nickel, and iron reign supreme here, while the sky is
blackened with the smoke of tall chimneys.
Joe was deeply interested, and filled his pockets vcith specimen ores
till Dick declared that if they were to drop him over the rail of the
yacht all the life-preservers on board could not hinder his going to
the bottom like a shot. But even as he bantered him he made him a
present of a silver nugget, for since the adventure at Snowdon all had
been touched by Joe's devotion to Barbara, and showed more than
jrg THREE VASSAR GIRLS IN ENGLAND. ;^H
usual kindness to the bo3\ Barbara herself was touched by it and
had said to Gladys, " His gratitude is delightful; he follows me about
like a spaniel. I really believe that I have found my forte at last, and
that it is teaching^."
The yacht lay waiting for them in Swansea Bay, and all of the
party with the exception of its commercial head and the mechanical Joe
were glad to shake the sooty dust of the town from their garments.
They passed Sker, the locale of Mr, Blackmore's romance, and
dropped anchor that night at Cardiff, paying a visit the next morning
to the castle of the Marquis of Bute, and laying in a full supply of
the American canned fruits with which the town is plentifully sup-
plied. "I intend to carry this can of Boston baked beans as a
precious souvenir to Saint," Barbara remarked, merrily.
Her depression following her conversation with Mr. Atchison had
entirely vanished. There was not a morbid nerve in the girl's splen-
did physique. She had acted according to the dictates of her un-
selfish, affectionate nature, and a certain glow of satisfaction, which
was not egotism, enabled her to bear the disapproval of even this old
friend, whose judgment she so highly valued. Perhaps under his
discontent she recognized a certain grudging respect which made
him do homage to the girl in spite of himself. At any rate, as the
yacht glided into the waters of the Usk, and the party prepared for
their excursion to Caerleon, Arthur's famous town, Mr. Atchison
playfully suggested that each gentleman should fasten his ladj^'s glove
or scarf to his helmet in the old knightly fashion, and set the example
by twisting a veil of Barbara's about his hat.
"Let me see, a sleeve is the correct thing, is it not?" asked Dick,
snatching an unfinished one of Tina's from Mrs. Isham's work-basket.
"Here, Gladys, come stitch it as your favor to my polo" — a red
sleeve, broidered with pearls, — and he bound her token on his hel-
met, with a smile, saying, " I never yet have done so much for any
maiden livinsf." ,
BARBARA'S LOG.
159
Gladys laughed merril}', the whole party joined In the jest, and
set out for the legendar}^ town mounted on sturdy Welsh ponies, the
grotesque head-gear of the gentlemen exciting much comment among
the natives whom they passed.
The principal relic at Caerleon is Arthur's Round Table, an amphi-
theatre or vast oval depression which may possibly be the remains
of a Roman camp.
" How real this makes the idyls," Barbara remarked. '^ Do you
suppose that Arthur really once —
" ' Held court at old Caerleon upon Usk ' ?
The town is real at an}^ rate, and there is the Usk winding down to
the sea. I wonder where the tower stood that Guinivere climbed to
see Geraint come with fair Enid, when she looked —
"'Up the vale of Usk
By the flat meadow, till she saw them come,
And then descending met them at the gate,
And clothed her for her bridals like the sun,
And all that week was old Caerleon gay.' "
"Really," exclaimed Dick, "this would be a good point from
which to set out for America. I can imagine myself repeating with
Sir Bedevere, —
" ' But now the whole Round Table is dissolved,
And I, the last, go forth companionless,
And the days darken round me, and the years,
Among new men, strange faces, other minds.' "
"Not darken," said Mr. Atchison, "but lighten — those were the
dark ages, and all the laureate's glorification of them is rubbish. We
can beat them in true heroism nowadays; v^hy, there's enough senti-
ment and reckless disregard of common sense locked up in our
Barbara here to furnish forth a whole volume of idyls."
i6o
THREE VASSAR GIRLS IN ENGLAND.
Barbara stole a shy look at her uncle's face, but although the voice
^vas gruff the glance was kindly. It was evident that though he did
not approve of her business qualifications he had nothing against her
heart.
The" next day the 3'acht sailed slowly up the Wye, past Chepstow
Castle, with its exciting history in connection with the wars of the
time of Charles I., for they were bound for Monmouth and Raglan
Castle, the background of George MacDonald's fine historical novel
" St. George and St. Michael." There was no white marble horse
spouting in the courtyard, no Donald or Dorothy; or " chapel with
triple lancet windows and picture-gallery, with large oval lights;"
only the great towers
with the ivy curtaining
their windows with its
tapestry. But the pic-
tures created by the
novelist were so vivid
that imagination came
to their aid, and they
could have said with
him: "Ah, here is a
stair! True, there are
but three steps, a bro-
ken one and a fragment.
What, said I; see how
the phantom steps con-
tinue it, winding up to
RAGLAN CASTLE, thc door of my lady's
chamber! See its polished floor, black as night, its walls rich with
tapestry, the silver sconces, the tall mirrors; the part-opened window,
long, low, carved, latticed, and filled with lozenge panes of the softest
yellow-green in a multitude of shades." They could have supplied
BARBARA'S LOG.
163
all this and much more, for the delightful story was first in their
minds.
On a quiet Sunday morninj; they awoke to find themselves lying at
anchor in the Avon at Bristol.
"Those who desire can attend service to-day," Mr. Atchison an-
nounced. Once more Barbara joined in the impressive words: '^Thc
sea is His and He made it," '-and the strength of the hills is His
THE AVON AT BRISTOL.
also." Her heart was filled with a sense of God's protection; there
was no misgiving now as to her future, though to one of merely
worldly mind it would have seemed more dubious than ever. She
walked by Gladys' side silent and content.
Suddenly Gladys remarked: "We shall have letters to-morrow;
you know we left word to have them forwarded to Bristol. I would
not wonder if there should be one from John."
164
THREE VASSAR GIRLS IN ENGLAND.
A
CHAPTER IX.
maud's sketching tour. bulletin four: LONDON.
THE next day Dick brought quite a packet of letters back to the
yacht. Barbara had a long one from Maud, and retired at once
to her pet reclining-chair under the awning to enjoy its contents.
" South Kensington, July 4.
"Dearest Barb: — It is an utter shaine I have not Vv'ritten you
before. I have been driven as a leaf before the v^ind, trying to cram
into each day enough of interest to spice an entire week. I have put
my work first, however, since we settled here, and have sent home the
designs for the prize dinner-set of which I spoke to you. Beside this
I have copied two Turner's, and have joined the modelling class. I
am delighted with South Kensington, its museum, and its school. It
gives me the finest opportunity for study which I have ever had, and
1 am trying to make hay while the sun shines.
"Still you must not imagine that I have altogether abjured the
world with its pomps and vanities. Lady Gubbins gave us a letter
of introduction to a friend of hers, Mrs. Arthur Mayhew, who has a
residence in Picadilly, which is quite a social centre. .She called on
us most obligingly, and invited us to one of her ' small and earlys,' '
which we afterward ascertained meant a ' crush,' at a fashionably
late hour. Mrs. Mayhew is a different type from any I have yet met
in England. She is more like an American, — a Washington woman,
for instance. She is a complete woman of the world; neither musical,
literary, artistic, nor titled; but clever enough to attract all of these
classes to her receptions. She is shy of the aesthetic craze, and told
me very frankly why. ^ If one dresses according to the French
MAUD'S SKETCHING TOUR.
165
modes,' she said, '^ one is quite sure of one's authorit}-; but if one
attempts to invent a st3'le of one's own, how is one to be quite sure
that it is the correct thing? To be sure there are the portraits as
guides, but then if one has any conscience all the interior decorations
ought to harmonize with the costumes, and one finds one's self in a
muddle.' That is just it. The English study and puzzle their
brains, and make art a matter of conscience and theor}^, but they have
no swift intuitions, and would no more dare trust their taste than they
would their own ideas of right and wrong in religion. Mrs. May-
hew, by the way, is very high church. She reminds me of Du
Maurier's Mrs. Ponsonby de Tomkyns in " Punch," and I amused
myself at her reception in picking out all the little Tomkyns world
with which those inimitable caricatures have made us familiar. There
were the same slim, handsome girls with Greek profiles, the same
young men, splendily developed physically, but with no particular
conversational abilities, who took your ironical remarks in the most
serious manner possible. There was a German musician from
Leicester Square, who played divinely, and was patronized by a
ponderous duchess, who might have stood for the drawing of Lady
Midas. There were old army veterans who walked as if they were
on horseback, and one young poet who attitudinized by the mantel-
piece and was fed with compliments. There was even an Acade-
mician who sat down opposite one of his own pictures, and never
withdrew his mournful o-aze from it throuo^hout the whole evening-,
and a quantity of fat middle-aged, middle-class people, technically
named ' Philistmes,' who seemed to be there for the purpose of filling
up the room, and consuming refreshments.
^' There were people who looked honestly bored and unhappy, and
others who were affectedly enthusiastic or jovial. There were also
a few who sat apart and regarded the company with a superior and
analytic air as though they were saying to themselves, "^ what fools
you all are!' We were entertained during the e^'ening by a ballad
1 66
THREE VASSAR GIRLS IN ENGLAND.
sung by a representative of the Esthetic Clique in a ^greenery
yallery ' gown. Her fingers dabbled with the keys in a limp, nerve-
less manner that reminded me of an invalid duck paddling feebly in
a brook, and there was not wanting a Maudle who posed in pretended
ecstacy. Last of all there was a quantiui) suff. of interesting and
THE ESTHETIC CLIQUE.
agreeable people as well, among whom I must mention a retired army
officer, who has lived a large part of his life in India, and who finds
himself almost as much a stranger in London as we are. Everything
is changed, he says; the clubs, society, politics, the papers, all belong
to a different London from the one he knew. So even slow-going
MAUiyS SKETCHING TOUR. jgy
England progresses, and perhaps she is not so much of a tortoise as
we in the vain pride of our youthful, rapid acting, rapid, thinking,
have imagined. One thing impresses me more and more. When
we say England we must not think of this insignificant little island
only, but of the vast empire scattered all over the world which owns
the good queen's swa}'. We have prided ourselves on being cosmo-
politan just because foreigners from ever}' nation come to us. But
England has a better right to the word, for she goes everywhere,
plants England where she goes, and brings a little of whatever is
admirable home with her. Nearl}' all the people whom I conversed
with at Mrs. Mayhew's had travelled. One otherwise totally uninter-
esting old merchant had lived in Canton, and had a great deal to tell
me of the English colony in China; and there was a ver}' sweet-
faced, low-voiced woman who had lived in Cape Town, Africa, until
her husband, an astronomer, who had gone out for scientific purposes,
died of one of the dreadful fevers. I noticed one young lady who I
was sure was an American, — from Kansas Cit}' or possibly Denver,
there was such a railroad, stocky, gold-mi ney look about her. She
was not in the least vulgar, but bewildered and ovei'powered by the
newness of things. She was ver}- elegantly dressed in the height of
the fashion, with rather too many diamonds, but her manner was
neither loud nor pushing; she simply sat in a corner and listened, and
looked with great hungry e3'es. I went up to her and said that I was
sure I had found a compatriot; but she was from some new town in
Australia, where her father had emigrated when she was a little child,
and where he had evidently made a fortune. Mrs. Mayhew brought
up her brother, an officer of the Scots Guards, recently returned from
Egypt. He was ver}^ nice to us both, and chatted away until the poor
little Australian princess was quite at her ease. It appeared that she
had returned by way of the Suez canal, and had seen the country over
which the captain had marched. He explained to us some of the curi-
osities which we had seen in the Egyptian Court at the Crystal Palace,
J 58 THREE VASSAR GIRLS IN ENGLAND.
but had not at all understood. We took our cream on the staircase
in real American fashion, and he ran up to his room for a map and
explained the attack upon Tel el Kebir in, a most interesting way.
I thought it very considerate and nice in him.
"Of course we have managed to do some sight-seeing. It would
never do to be in London and not visit Westminster Abbey, so we
went there first, all ver}'' much in the spirit, I must confess, of having it
done with, for I fully expected to be disappointed. But Westminster
Abbey is one of the things which honorably meet one's expectations.
The exterior is gray with age and London grime, but the ivy clings
as well as the soot, and the whole effect is very imposing and
venerable. It is a flower of the best periods of Gothic architecture,
not over-loaded and childishly exuberant, like the later Gothic which
we saw in Portugal, but chaste and refined in its richest ornamenta-
tion. You must come and see it for yourself, for I despair of giving
you any idea of the uplifting sensation given b}" the combined effect
of high, narrow arches, rich stained glass, monumental brass, storied
urn, and noble sculptures, intricate wood-carving, and all the blazonry
of heraldry and religious symbolism. What struck me most forcibly
was not the Poet's corner with, its great names, the quiet cloisters,
or Henry Vllth's Chapel, the very focus of the whole building,
where every art outdoes itself, the wonderful carved ceiling drops its
stalactites, the windows burn more mtensely, and the armorial ban-
ners droop with a proud humility over the canopied stalls, — all this
was very sumptuous, but it did not touch my feelings in the least.
But the sight "^ which angled for mine eyes and caught the water,' as
Shakspeare would say, was the tombs of Elizabeth and Mary Stuart.
Two chapels, opposite and very similar to each other, are devoted to
these queens. Their sculptured effigies lie at full length, Mary's
beautiful but passionate face forming an almost living contrast to
Elizabeth's haughty features, which could not have been less hard or
cold in life. It seemed a little like a petrified sermon on the old text.
WESTMINSTER ABBEY.
MAWD'S SKETCHING TOUR.
171
*^ Vanity of vanities,' to see these rivals lying there almost side by
side so quietly, all the hatred and heart-burning, the jealousy, in-
trigue, and relentless cruelty of their lives frozen into silence, —
" ' Like burnt-out craters healed with snow ! '
"Our first Sunday in London we visited the Foundling Hospital,
and some of the little ones there in their qtiaint caps and aprons, as
with folded hands
they reverently re-
peated the Lord's
Prayer in the chapel,
and later as the}-
partook eagerly of
their Sunday din-
ner, suggested more
touching pictures to
me than any I ha\"e
seen in the galleries.
That is saying a great
deal, too, for I have
enjoyed the exhibi-
tions intensel}^ The
National Galler}''
with its Old Mas- at the foundling hospital.
ters, its Turners and Hogarths, and the Royal Academy and the Gros-
venor, with their invaluable opportunities for studying the works of the
modern English painters. I know you do not care particularly for art
gossip, and so I will give you only a homoeopathic dose thereof, but I
must tell you about the Grosvenor, for there I came across Major Nes-
bit, the retired arm}' officer from India, whom I met at Mrs. Mayhew's.
I spied him across the galler}' standing in unhappy ineditation before a
picture which was not visible from my point of view. He was squint-
ing through his single eye-glass, and steadily sucking away at the head
172
THREE VASSAR GIRLS IN ENGLAND.
of his cane, as though determined to imbibe inspiration through it.
"^ What is the matter, Major? ' I asked after managing to get quite near
him. He started and blushed
like a young girl. ^I don't un-
derstand them at all,' he ex-
plained; ^ when I was in England
before Sir Edwin was all the
rage. Sir Edwin understood
every beast on the face of the
earth, and it really seemed as if
they returned the compliment;
why, even / could understand
him, and Sir Edwin understood
me.' I laughed as heartily as I
dared behind m}^ catalogue.
^ Really, Major,' I said, '^ I can't
allow you to call yourself a beast,
though every one at Mrs. May-
hew's seemed inclined to make
a lion of you.'
" We were friends at once, and
he begged me to take him around
the gallery and explain the pic-
tures to him. Strangely enough
we admired the same pictures
We did not either of us
care for Millais, the pet artist of the day, whom he had confused, as
so many others do, with the really great French painter Millet. He
liked Boughton immensely, and I was proud to be able to claim him
-and Mark Fisher as Americans, and rather glad that they had submit-
ted to expatriation, if only for the sake of placing worthy American
work by the side of the best that England can offer. Alma Tadema's
AT THE GROSVENOR.
and found that we had much in common.
MAUD'S SKETCHING TOUR.
173
revivals of the classical period interested me more than the}' did the
Major. I believe he even found something to criticise in the archi-
tecture, and I could see that he gained in self-respect visibly after-
ward, and gave his opinions in regard to Herkomer, E. Burne Jones,
Hall, Whistler, Walter Crane, and others, with less of the apologetic
and thp interrogation mark. There was a very creditable portrait by
H. R. H. the Princess Louise, and I think the Major thought me very
obliging for setting my Americanism aside and frankly liking it. In
return he admitted that a portrait by an American girl, Miss Starr
was simply exquisite, and that Leighton's work seemed to him more
poetic than realistic, even after he knew that he was president of the
Roy-al Academy. He was loud in the praise of a group of wounded
soldiers in a picture which he had seen somewhere else, b}'
Mrs. Virginia Thompson
Butler, which he said
was drawn with all a
woman's sympathy and
delicate insight. They
have many reminis- -CNJI
cences of Mrs. Butler at
South Kensington. She
studied here before she
went abroad, and all
praise her earnestness
and determination.
After all, the English
have all our essentially
good qualities. If they
lack our nerve and o-o doing london in hansom style.
they make up for it, the best of them, in staying power, and in reso-
lutely, unflinchingly setting their face "to do the right so far as God
grants them to see the right, which I reverence most devoutl3^
174
THREE VASSAR GIRLS IN ENGLAND.
" The pictures which I care most for in London are not those of the
exhibitions, but the myriad aspects we see of men and manners about
us. The panorama of street life, as we see it from the omnibuses, or
as we go dashing about doing London in hansom style, — that is,
tucked from the driving rain in a bugg3''-like vehicle, with a rub-
ber robe buttoned across the front of our carriage to the height
of our eyes, and our driver perched at a dizzy height behind and
above us. The people that we see through the fog remind us
strikingly of Dickens. The costermongers, the policemen in their
stiff helmets, the wretched poor, the cockney snob, the charity boys
in odd costumes, the Sairey Gamps, and the Mr. Dombeys all jostle
solemnly, and the absurdity of it all is that the}^ never confess by so
much as a nod or a wink that they are only assumed characters in a
grand Dickens carnival. And then there were the
gamins around about High Holborn and St. Giles, who
seemed to have walked out of Hood's poems.
" Saint will write you of her occupations. She is
taking music lessons and reading German preparatory
for Munich. We attend the concerts tocjether in the
evening. We heard Henschel at one of the Popular
Classical Concerts at St. James's Hall last Saturday,
and Mrs. Mayhew and her brother took us to one of
the Sacred Harmonics isX. Exeter Hall. The royal
family were present, and I had an excellent opportu-
nity to make a sketch of the Princess Beatrice.
"Just now Saint is deeply interested in a course of
piano recitals; nothing will tear her from London until
they are concluded. But after they are over she has
promised to make a sketching tour with me down in-
to the heart of Surrey and Kent. London will be insufferably warm
in August, and I mean to get away from it as early as the middle of
July. Can't we manage to meet in Guilford? It is not very far from
Portsmouth, where you say your cruise will end.
CHARITY BOY.
MAUD'S SKETCH /AG TOUR.
^1S
" I put off visiting the Tower for quite a while, for I fancied that I
should not enjoy it. I remembered that grand letter which Sir Wal-
ter Raleigh wrote his wife from the Tower the night beiore his exe-
cution. I remembered Delacroix's touching picture of the little
princes awaiting the coming of their murderers, and 1 had no heart
lor trying the edge of the great axe which has kissed so many fair
and noble throats. I could have quoted the words which Shakspeare
puts into Prince Edward's mouth, —
'• ' I do not like the Tower of any place.'
" I went because I knew that I would be ashamed to say that I had
not seen it, and I was thoroughly glad that I had conquered my aver-
sion. The Tower is not a state
prison, alone tilled with gloomy
memories. It is a huge fortress
composed of a mass of different
buildings of different periods and
varied styles of architecture, and
has been used as a royal residence,
as treasure-house, and museum,
as well as a stronghold, military
barracks and dungeon.
"" Under William the Conqueror
it was made the castle of the
Norman kings, and has been added
to by nearly every monarch- since
his time. It is the building of all
others \vhich contains within its
walls, more vividly than it could
be printed within covers, the entire history of Eng-
land. Even Westminster Abbey is inferior to it in this regard. The
bones of the monarchs lie there, it is true, and we have long and
176
THREE VASSAR GIRLS IN ENGLAND.
lying eulogies to their virtues, but at the Tower are preserved their
very acts and lives. In the Horse Armory we have a small regiment
of grotesque mounted effigies, each in the identical armor worn b}"
the dead-and-gone monarchs from Edward I., in 1272, to James II.,
in 1688. Queen Elizabeth's Armory, with its spoil of the Spanish
THE TOWER OF LONDON.
Armada, was another interesting gallery, and the Jewel Tower, with
the crown finer}', an orderly Aladdin's cave of diamonds, rubies, and
sapphires. Some of the most notable buildings included in the tower
enclosure are the Middle Tower; the Bell Tower; St. Thomas's Tower
with its Traitor's Gate; the Bloody Tow^r, named from the murder
of the children of Edward IV.; the Record Tower; the White Tower;
St. John's Chapel; Beauchamp Tower; and the Church of St. Peter.
" I expect to visit the Houses of Parliament next week and to
attend service at St. Paul's on Sunday. If I were at the beginning
MAUV:S SKETCHING TOUR. jyy
instead of at the end of my letter, I would tell you how I enjoyed
the Temple Church, with the effigies of the Templars in chain armor,
their legs crossed in token that they had fought in the Crusade, and
their shields and swords beside them. The stained irlass here is
very beautiful, and 1 do not wonder that Hawthorne, who did not
care for pictures at all, thought it the most ""magnificent method oi"
adornment' that human art has invented. The remaining- sio'hts
o; London will doubtless come all in good time.
"It strikes me at this late date that I have told you nothing of our
visit to Windsor and to Hampton Court. Well, this letter is already
too long, and you will excuse the omission. I told John Featherton-
haugh, before he lelt us, that you had made over all your property in
England to Saint. He seemed intensely interested, and said that he
had never heard of such an instance of disinterestedness, and was
altogether very appreciative and complimentaiy.
'^ How do you enjoy his sister? Saint and Miss Featherstonhaugh
were not chemical affinities, and had no appreciable effect upon each
other. They were both alkalis, but you are a good deal of an acid,
and I should think that bottling you up together in that little test-tube
of a 3-acht might occasion some lively effervescence.
"Saint joins me in love to Mrs. Ishani and Mrs. Atchison, and in
kindest regards to all the others.
" Lovingly, Maud."
Barbara refolded the letter with a little sigh. " Maud is not quite
satisfactor}', after all," she thought; "she forgets that she has not told
me the result of Saint's last interview^ with John Featherstonhaugh.
I would like to know just how it all came about, but Saint will tell
me when we meet in Surrey."
Then she opened the letter and read once more. " He was very
appreciative and complimentaiy." Barbara was not pleased v/ith this.
She had not intended Maud should tell John Featherstonhaugh of her
178
THREE VASSAR GIRLS IN ENGLAND.
disposition of her property, and he had evinced too much satisfaction
in the arrangement to quite please her. It was natural, perhaps, for
most men to be gratified by the prospect of marrying money, but
Barbara had imagined that this particular man would be actuated by-
nobler considerations, and would display on occasion a fine scorn of
money matters. She was disappointed in her hero, and she was angry
with herself for having made a hero of him. " What does it matter
to me?" she said to herself, sternly; "1 made the sacrifice not for
his sake, but for Saint's;" O
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