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that Anne never knew whether or there were explanations which he hesitated Slade's genius had led him at the same to make. He has gone, it seems, without time toward the circumambient sunshine coming to say good-bye to us.” and the air that was plaintive with the song “ He is offended with me,” declared of sandpipers.

Anne, still preserving a remnant of her conShe learned that night, however, that he fident smile. "He is offended with me on had been at her hotel in the afternoon, and account of Mr. Slade. He had asked me that his visit had been rewarded by a con- to go out with him that afternoon, and I versation with her mother.

forgot it.” “ He came at the same hour he found “There were a number of things which so favorable on Sunday," the lady remarked, you forgot. If he was offended, he is “ but he said nothing about contemplating taking a fine revenge.” a call upon you. He desired to create the Mrs. Rittenhouse was a still handsome impression that his card was meant for woman, who never, by any chance, failed to somebody else. He said he was expecting present to view a careful and elaborate friends who would stop here. He will ex- coiffure. She had a soft voice, soft hands, pect them all summer, but you will find soft lips, and soft skin; and it was the care they wont come. I tremble to think of the of her life to preserve the general soft accidents by land and sea which will detain texture of herself and her daughter from all them.”

possible rude contact. But she did not tremble; she smiled “I don't know how I happened to miss instead.

my nap this afternoon,” she went on," and Anne smiled more deeply still, turning I fancy he didn't know, either; but he her face away for that purpose.

made the best of it. He seated himself “I guess not,” she replied.

without waiting to be asked, and proceeded They were in a small reception-room fur- to make himself as agreeable as he knew nished with a brilliant carpet and chan- how. His knowledge of that art is very delier, to which a sofa and a few chairs had good so far as it goes, but it does not go been added. Mrs. Rittenhouse was far far enough,

far enough,-or rather, it goes too far; he from comfortable in one of these, but her overdoes it. He is a man who wants to get disaffection toward the furniture was for on, and he goes too fast.” the time being lost in the striking corre- “ If that is all he wants, I don't even see spondence she discovered between their why we might not help him.” surroundings and the new acquaintance “We don't know anything about him,thrust upon them.

about his standing." “He is what one might expect,” she “We might give him one, if necessary, went on, addressing the back of her daugh- and not miss it,” observed the daughter, ter, who stood at the window. “He is in again addressing the broad face of nature. very bad taste."

“My dear," expostulated Mrs. RittenAnd she glanced at the American Brus- house, from the region of the carpets and sels of large pattern, and at the green chan- chandelier, “ you would soon find that his delier, as if she recognized him in these scheme for attaining it was comprehensive similar products.

enough. The progress of those schemes at “He is not so very homely,” observed these places is very rapid.” the daughter, who, in her turn, seemed to The young girl said nothing; but the see him in the broad face of nature.

elder did not agree with her that it was a “ Don't be deceived. He acts as if he pleasant place for the conversation to end. were particularly handsome, but he is “ It seems,” she continued, “ that there is dreadful. He mingles the manners of a a large family of Slades, who are excellent gentleman of ease with those of an enter- people, but they live in Chicago. Didn't prising commercial traveler. He isn't a he tell you person whom it is safe to take at his own “Yes," assented Anne, glad of something valuation, and he is plainly indisposed to positive. give us the benefit of any other. He should “I happened to mention Miss McDerhave known better than to get a little fel- mott, who visited Philadelphia from Baltilow like Corbin to introduce him. He is

more, you remember, and he said he too old for that. He told me this after thought he had met her. Wasn't she tall ? noon that Corbin had gone off on a yacht- No, I told him, she was short. Well, he ing excursion up the coast. I am afraid I said, perhaps she was rather short, -and

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fair. Wasn't she quite fair? You know ness of things, the dampness, the briny she is dark,—short and dark. He had smells. It is these barns of hotels; it isn't never even seen her. Then he asked if | Mr. Slade." there weren't two of them, but unfortu- “You are sorry you were not here,” purnately there is only one. He couldn't get sued the lady, struck by her subdued a foot-hold, and was obliged to admit that, excitement. “You forget how new you if he had met her, he didn't remember her. are in judging men. This Mr. Slade is a He didn't go much in society. I couldn't man; he is not a boy. He must be over find any one that he knew, except by hear thirty. He spoke of things before the war. say, and he finally explained that he hadn't | He seemed to prefer talking on general been in Baltimore much of late years,- topics rather than about himself or his that he didn't live there, in fact, but only friends. It is possible that he thought my near there; and he gave the name of a very knowledge of how to make one's self small place. I had never heard of it. He agreeable as deficient as his was redundant. couldn't be the man from St. Louis ?” He didn't stay long. I certainly did not

“ That is it!" cried Anne. “That is why ask him to repeat his visit.” you don't like him! It is on account of “What did you ask him to do?” dewhat Mr. Corbin said. He said there was manded the girl. nothing in it; but you wont believe him. “I was perfectly polite, but I trust I You wont let him take it back. He can't wasn't cordial.” get it back. You wont let go of it. It is “He wont come back," Anne said, in that story. What offends you is the cheap- l the same unusual tone.

(To be continued.)


Who called it so? What accident

The wary phrase devised ?
What wandering fancy thither went,

And lingered there surprised ?

And harvests of wild seed-times fill,

And seed and fill again:
And blossoms bloom at blossoms' will,

By blossoms overlain :

Ah, no man's land! oh, sweet estate,

Illimitably fair.
No measure, wall, or bar or gate,

Secure as sky or air !

And day and night, and night and day,

Uncounted suns and moons,
By silent shadows mark and stay
Unreckoned nights and noons :

No greed, no gain ; not sold or bought, Ah, “no man's land," hast thou a lover, Unmarred by name or brand :

Thy wild sweet charm who sees? Not dreamed of, nor desired, nor sought, | The stars look down: the birds fly over, Nor visioned, no man's land."

Art thou alone with these ?

Suns set and rise, and rise and set,

Whole summers come and go : And winters pay the summer's debt,

And years of west wind blow :

Ah, “no man's land,” when died thy lover,

Who left no trace to tell ?
Thy secret we shall not discover,

The centuries keep it well!

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Both Americans and English, I think, apply the term “ wateringplace” to resorts on the sea-shore as well as to the springs of the interior; but the French discriminate: those who go seaward go to “les Bains," those who seek the springs, whether for drinking or bathing, go aux Eaux.” So, though we do not bathe, it was to the baths at Etretat that we went in June,—a party of three, a brother, sister, and little yellow dog,-to recover health and spirits after eight sunless months spent in Paris and its neighborhood.

We found at Etretat scenery and air of the best, ease of life, good company, all one could ask for summer pleasure—at least, for those who rebel against the demands and restrictions of fashionable society. As yet it is far from being fashionable; few titles, I think, and those chiefly masculine,

VOL. XXII.-40.

were inscribed on the casino list in the big your feet. I have never seen this charming black book which the old women and the effect of the “ brimming sea" before; the extremely young men were incessantly study bay the cup, the shelf the edge of it, and ing.

the living green beauty of the

water sparkWhen I learned at the end of our stay | ling and foaming within. Each quarter that the place had been full of Roumanians of the beach has its own peculiar life. and Wallachs, chased from their homes by The washerwomen have possession of the the unpleasant ways of Russia and Turkey, western end; next come the fishing-boats, I regretted that I, too, had not studied it, that and then the bathing-ground, with casino I might have been aware of and have more and terrace at the top of the beach, and scientifically observed such curious neigh- rows of " cabines,” out of which come at the bors. We had been told the place was the bathing hours the oddest figures you can resort of the theatrical world, -Faure and find in broad daylight anywhere. Still Offenbach had villas there,—and the infer- farther to the east, beyond the bathingence was that manners might be somewhat place, there stretches a long way under the startling ; but we found that, to the ụn- cliffs the only quiet part of the beach. sophisticated foreign observer, this world Sometimes they take the unwilling horses in its summer guise does not differ from the there to plunge and dance in the waves; ordinary world, and one confounded it with sometimes the boys make unconventional the well-to-do middle class from Paris, water-parties there; but usually it is quite Rouen, and Havre, who appeared to make deserted, and in the fresh early day it is the principal part of the company. There delicious in its still remoteness. were English, Americans, and Russians, as The town is ugly, as I have said, but the a matter of course, for they are everywhere; outskirts are full of gay gardens, and villas, Germans and Spaniards, too, and Creoles, and trees. Most of the villas are to be even a family of unmistakable negro type. hired, and all are named: Villa Georgette, If one could have known them all! But La Chauffrelle, Villa Orphée (Offenbach's), perhaps they would not have seemed so La Sonnette du Diable, Val Fleuri, etc. queer as one would wish.

Others are startling in their broad English The town itself is an ugly little place, Tiny Cottage, Sphinx's Cottage, Betsey's built of dark flints and dingy bricks. The Villa ! Bad taste is cosmopolitan, and roofs are of slate, and the whole coloring so makes the two worlds kin. Turrets rest on dull one would think it at the mouth of a verandas, and terraces on ridge-poles, here, coal-pit. But its situation is lovely. It as they might in America; and here was built lies at the mouth of a small valley, full on a rock, in 1865, the towered castle with of groves and gardens, which is cut sharply a cannon-ball deeply bedded in its great in the high table-land that forms this part gate. of Normandy. This high land meets the The town proper is cut by dirty lanes, sea in bold white cliffs, sisters in beauty one or two wider ones, and one Grande to the opal cliffs of the Isle of Wight, and Rue," perhaps twenty-five feet wide, named stretches inland in level lines, broken only Alphonse Karr, in honor of the discoverer by the curious dark groves of the Norman of Etretat. Almost every house has lodgfarm-yards. Inclosing the little bay and ings to let, empty shops are fitted up as beach, these cliffs reach out in headlands“ apartements," and I noticed two thatched to protect the town from wind, and so take boats, papered and carpeted, ready for the the force of the winter storms that they are unwary citizen of John Gilpin's turn of worn into arches and pinnacles of fantastic mind.' Looking into the rooms in passing, form, of which numberless pictures are was surprised to see how attractive always in progress by artists of all ages and they appeared, even in most unpromising all degrees of merit, from Boldini and Lan- neighborhoods. The universal white musdelle down to little girls in embroidered lin curtains give an air of taste to the poorhats and boys in blue sashes.

est dwelling, and I can understand what The beach is of shingle and falls away a long-time resident in Paris meant when rapidly, the tides in their coming and going she said windows without these curtains constantly changing its incline—now sweep- gave her the same impression as a woman ing it down into one smooth basin, now without a collar. The French apparently building it up into a sharp-cut shelf, on the have no objection to bad smells and no edge of which you stand and look down fears of bad drainage. Nice brick houses, into the clear waves breaking just under with every appearance of luxurious arrange


ments, stand side by side with the original | which appeared daily in a fresh toilet of thatched cottages, sharing the odors of the blue or pink or red ribbon-bow on the black gutters and the surrounding back top of his fluffy head. They used to yards.

walk their three leagues before breakfast The place and people, of course, have lost every day, little dog and all, “playing nearly all their individuality since they were with the wind,” they said. France is the discovered, twenty years or so ago, but they paradise for small dogs.

What we are still retain the common Norman love of fine kindly accustomed to call the frivolity cupboards full of china. The old quaint of the French makes them gentle and ones of oak have long been sold, and they thoughtful masters to small creatures. One have brand-new ones now. The china is day, I heard a heavy sigh under my winof the gaudiest, and, curiously enough, al- dow and the tinkling of a little bell, then a ways belonged to the grandmother of the deep voice, saying: “ Well! Thou hast present owner. We never had any direct had thy promenade, my cherished one! offer of selling made to us, but they had a Of course I looked, and saw, shining red knowing way of ringing the plates as they under his umbrella, a short, fat man, preexpatiated on their age which seemed to ceded by a shaved poodle. They were on imply a habit of discussing prices. One of their warm way down from the cliffs, where the fine villas has a noted collection of he had been toiling for the creature's beneVieux Rouen, and one soft summer evening fit. I thought it very charming, as well as we watched through the vine draped win- funny. The French are fond of calling dow of La Chaumière two old ladies gos- poodles“ mees” or “meesy.” siping over their dessert by candle-light, The small church at Etretat is extremely in a room whose walls were covered solid interesting,—even beautiful. Most of the with plates.

nave is old, even for Normandy; the arches Etretat is comparatively cheap, though, round and low, resting on simple pillars of as its charms become more known, it will great size, some of the capitals still showing soon change. Its distance from the rail- the early basket-work. The side aisles are road has preserved to it, until now, some- extremely low; the narrow windows are set thing of simplicity. The hotels are com- in deep embrasures, and heavily barred and fortable, but in nowise elegant. Many grated. This part of the church looks very people find their lodgings in the village stern, though the yellow stone of which it is and take their meals at the tables d'hôte. built gives it a soft and cheerful light. The On a sunny morning the court-yard where nave has been lengthened, and a lantern we lived was a cheerful sight, the little tower added in pointed Gothic, whose sharp tables occupied by coffee-drinkers, waited upspringing arches contrast curiously with on by a dozen or so of white-capped young their older companions. There are various women with flying strings, whose names interesting “bits,”- !-a tiny niche, some odd sounded wonderfully romantic : Celes- capitals here and there, the somewhat rare tine !Ermance !!Aglaé !

arrangement of the clustered columns, and There are many pretty walks and drives so on, but it was best as a whole, full of the over the downs and through the cart-roads solemn strength and uplifting beauty one which connect the farms, but we liked best asks for in a church. The curé's house and those which kept near shore, where we garden lie at the portal, and there was a could see, on one hand, the green turf and cheery going in and out of himself and the yellow earth of the cliff edges against the sacristan and various dependents, giving to sky or sea, and, on the other, the level lines the soft quiet of the place a home-like aspect, of tawny grain and greener crops stretch- which was good to note. It was good to sit ing into the distant softness of the interior. there in the sunny mornings, to watch the poor We were surprised to see what good walk- old women, bent with age, who sat so long ers many French people are.

The excel and still, and to ponder on the past history lence of English habits of walking in all of the place and its still living intricacy of weathers has been so preached to Amer- beauty. One morning, as I sat in the ican women that they have come to have shadow, a tall gentleman and a tall lady an idea that the feet of all other nations entered the church for about ten steps, are nearly useless. One of our neighbors looked about for a minute or two, and then at table was a huge Parisian, Chevalier of turned and went out; and as they went, the Legion, husband of a portly lady, and with that intonation which our brethren of owner of the smallest dog I ever saw, the island use when they wish to intimate

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