Avice Gray, VIII-X [pp. 234-242]

4APPLETONS' JOURNAL.
at his forge in the shed, and being, like most black- composed by man. The shed where Powell sang
smiths, light of heart as well as strong of limb, he at his work yet stands. The writer hopes that
sang a song to himself while he wielded the ham- he has succeeded in awakening a passing intermer. Handel listened for a moment. By an ex- est in behalf of these most interesting and littletraordinary phenomenon, the hammer striking in known relics of the immortal Handel. And he
tune drew from the anvil two distinct harmonic would venture to offer no better advice to those who
sounds, which, being in accord with the melody may visit them than that they should stand at the
Powell was singing, made a sort of continuous bass. grave of Powell and ponder upon the vanity of huHandel fell a-thinking. His brain conceived an idea, man greatness. At their feet lie the ashes of a
and forthwith it began to take shape. The ring of man whose name goes down to posterity as the humthe hammer on the anvil and the voice of the black- ble originator of an idea that suggested a melody to
smith should be made to form a piece for Handel's Handel. Before them, in the little church, enfavorite instrument, the harpsichord. At once he shrined in lofty sarcophagus of marble, with pomtrudged home, and in due time "The Harmonious pous inscription of his virtues, lies buried the oneBlacksmith" was given to the world, which after the time owner of the lordly and scattered domains of
lapse of a century and a half is still held to be one Cannons whose fame is scarcely known except to
of the most charming and popular melodies ever chance visitors to a by-lane in Hertfordshire.
A VICE GRAY.
A STORY IN THIRTEEN CHAPTERS.
CHAPTER VIII. and that was to Dorade, and not to me. I can't
make out what's keeping him so long, unless he's
F R E D S L E T T E R. heerd about Avice and darsn't come home; he was
E have left Dr. WVells a long time upon the only to be gone three weeks, and it's five now."
V road, but during our digression he has ac- "Have you written to him?"
complished his journey and arrived at Mrs. Har- "Dorade wrote for me-you know, doctor, I'm a
mer's door. poor hand at learning. I told her what to say, and
"I'm raal glad to see you, doctor," said the good she told me she said as gentle as she could about
woman, coming out to meet him, and setting wide Avice, and that he was wanted very bad at home, and
the doors of the wagon-house for the willing en- to come as soon as he could."
trance of the chestnut pony. "I wanted to see you "You did not read the letter after it was writthe worst way, for there's two or three things on my ten?"
mind." "Why should I? And Dorade's writing's none
The doctor followed her into the kitchen, which too easy to read; it's a very ladylike hand," said
was in its afternoon condition of cleanliness and Mrs. Harmer, quite unaware that her praise was the
order, and disposed himself in the rocking-chair she reverse of complimentary.
drew forward for his reception. "Who posted the letter?" asked the doctor.
"I s'pose you've seen Avice to-day," she went "Did it go from here?"
on; "but I'm'most afraid to ask how she is, and "No; Dorade and Ben was going to Whitecheshow she feels, now the time is getting so near." ter, and she posted it there."
"Horribly near," said the doctor. "She is ill "Did you read Fred's letter to Dorade? Can
enough in body to cause me some anxiety, and as you tell me what he said?"
for her mind, poor child-" The doctor paused. "I didn't read it myself, but Dorade read it out
"Mrs. Harmer, if the 26th of next month arrives, for me; he said his aunt's business would take him
and we have no news-if the trial comes on, and we longer than he thought, and he might be gone a
find no trace of the stranger who is our only hope- month; we wasn't to look for him till we saw him;
what shall we do? What can we do more than we and he hadn't got our letter when he wrote, for there
have already done? Think for me-I have thought wasn't a word about the bad news we had been
until I am bewildered, and know not what to think." obliged to send him."
"I'm sure I don't know," said Mrs. Harmer, tak- "When did you write?" asked the doctor.
ing up her apron to wipe her eyes. "I'd lay my life "When he'd been gone a fortnight and three
upon the poor child's innocence, but I find it hard days."
work to get the rest to believe as I do; even the "And when did you get his letter?"
boys seem to be turned again her now, and, as for "Let me see-I think it was Tuesday in last,
Dorade, she won't listen to a word in her favor; and week."
then I fret so about what Fred will-" "Hm!" said the doctor, in a low tone; "so he
"Ay," said the doctor, "when did you hear from had been gone nearly five weeks when he said he
Fred?" should.be back in four. Patience, and it will come
"I've only had one letter since he went away, at last." He fell into silence, and various detached
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