An Open Question, Chapter LI [pp. 720-723]

T2O
oU~ CHTtIS7'JWLiS TU~KBY [DECEMBER28,
And in one thing be shows an American
soulYou never can force him to crawl through a
bole.
There's an edge to the carving-knife polished
and brigbt;
Tbe plates a'~e all warm, and the napkins all
white;
Before us the celery gleams through its vase,
And the cranberry-jelly is set in its place.
Tbrust the sharp fork astraddle our beauty's
breast-bone;
From his side cut thin slices the wbitest e'er
known
For fl~e ladies, God bless tbem! but my ruder
sense
Takes tbe thigh, and the last part that gets
o'er the fence.
Ah! wbite meat or brown meat it matters not
mueb`Tis taste we must please, not our seeing, nor
touch;
And witb eitber for dinner we're not at a
loss,
If we've celery in plenty and cranberry sauce;
For then, with a flask of good Rudesheimer
wine,
We can manage, I fancy, in comfort to dine,
Nay, more-wfth a turkey like this at corn mand,
Who'd not bq a patriot, proud of his land?
They bad figs in Judea, and fatlings so fine,
Young kids dressed with olives, and what
they called wine;
They had palm-trees and date-trees, and odors
as rare
As the sweetest of roses could fling on th~
air.
What their fruits and their flowers to these
cranberries red
And their palm- and their date-trees this cel ery instead?
While as for their kids and their lambs and
their quails,
One turkey-let's eat, for comparison fails.
Tno~s Du~ir ENGLIsH
AN OPEN ()UESTION.*
A ~OVEL
Bv JAHEs DE MILLE, AUTHoR OF "THE LADY
OF THE Icz," "THE AMERIcAN BARoN," ETC.
CHAPTER LT.
A DI5C0vEltv.
BLAKE had reasons of his own for keeping
his escape a secret. He therefore did not go
out of the house, even though he needed cxercise, but quietly waited till he was strong
enough to travel. He did not know but that
O'Rourke, or rather Kevin Magrath, as he now
believed him to be, might still be in the city;
nor did he know but that he might have emissaries abroad. For many reasons he did not
wish Magrath to know that be was alive; and
accordingly he determined to travel in disguise,
so as to guard against the possibility of discovery. This disguise was very easily procured-a false beard, spectacles, and a priest's
dress, being sufficient to make him unrecog E~~~oo, a~~dtog to Aot of Coo~ooo, to tho yoo 1572, by
D. A~?~o & Co., to tho OH of tho Rtb~~ao of Co~~oo,, at
w~h~ogtoo.
words so full of scornful contempt, so evidently intended to rebuke any possible presumption on my part, tIt at even your love, if
it were offered me this moment, could scarcely
blot them out."
The blaze which had flickered up just
after the speaker's entrance, died down now
to a dull glow, which barely revealed the outlines of the two figures facing each other on
the hearth. Even in this obscurity, however,
I saw Rosalind suddenly put her hands to her
face.
"You are hard on me," she said, in a
voice which I could scarcely think was her
own. "I-I did not mean all that."
"Yes, you meant it - all," Stuart answered. "I, who have loved you as I can
scarcely learn to love another woman-I, who
have hoped against hope to win you from
suspicion and pride to your better natureeven I know that you meant it. Even I have
opened my eyes at last to the bitter realization that I have been your play thin_ and
your slave too long already, and that, if I
wish to preserve self- respect, I 41ttst be a
free man from to-night."
"Your slavery was your own choice,"
Rosalind's voice-trembling strangely out of
the shadows-said. "I had no share in it.
Your freedom, therefore, is not mine to give."
<`But it sit all be mine to Icke!" he said,
with a passionate vehemence, which must
have thrilled her, for it thrilled even tee. "I
have sworn it, and I will do it. If it can be
accomplished in no other way, I will never
see your face again after this hour!"
She started slightly, but laughed-a faint,
nervous sound
"Is it necessary to be so melodramatic?"
she asked. "Surely my poor face can do you
no great amount of harm
"It has already done me the deadliest
of harm," he answered, bitterly. "Melodramatic! That is what people like you-people
who have no passion-always say of those
who are fools enough to give you their hearts.
Mine has troubled you fo~ the last time, however. No doubt I shall be sorry to-morrow
that I have been sufficiently mad to utter all
this, but I cannot be sorry now. I coultl not
leave you forever without having spoken the
truth. It is folly to say it, perhaps, but if
another man should ever love you as well as
I have done, let me beg you to doubt him
less than you have doubted me."
He turned from her abruptly with those
words, and walked straight to the doorstraight past me, whose presence he had
quite forgotten-as if 20;2085]he feared to trust his
resolution a minute longer in her presence.
To my surprise, Rosalind followed him
quickly, and laid her ha~d on his arm as he
was opening the door.
"What is the meaning of this?" she
asked, imperiously. "Where are you going?"
"If you wlli be kind enough to make my
excuses to Colonel Beresford," he said, "I
am going back to X-."
"You do not mean that you will cross
that river a~ein?"
"What I have lone once,. I can certainly
do again," he answered, coldly. "Pardon
me, Miss Earle, but will you let me pass?"
"One minute," she said, with something
-a strange thrill-in her voice. "You have
been very harsh, very uttkind to me, and
that, too, just after you have laid me under
such an obligation; but I have not forgotten
that it is Ch~stmas-eve, and I havq not forgotten, either, that I promised this tnorning
to grant you the right of asking a Christmasgift in return for the one you were to bring
me-the one you have brought. Stuart
I cannot express the softness and sweetness
of her tone as she spoke his name-" have
you none to ask?"
Although I was at some distance, I heard
the young man draw in his breath with a
quick gasp before he answered. Then it was
very hoarsely.
"Rosalind, why are you tempting me like
this?-why can you not let me go? It fee
be nothing but vanity which makes you want
the last poor triumph of saying,' He was a
presumptuous fool, and I have rejected him.'"
"Perhaps it is only vanity," said Rosalind,
quietly, "but still it is Christmtts-eve, and
we are never to see each other again, andand I am sure it will not harm you to give
me the`last poor triumph,' if I want it,"
"Then take it," said he, fiercely. "What
does it matter whether or not I say in so
many words,`I love you, Rosalind Earle, and,
poor as I am, I am fool enough to ask you to
believe this and to marry me?'"
"As little, perhaps, as that I should say,
`I believe you, and I will marry you!`" she
answered, clearly and calmly.
"Rosalind!" he cried, in amazement.
"Rosalind, you-you do not meen it?"
"Does one ever jest like this?" asked
Rosalind, proudly. Then she gave a soft,
low laugh, as she added, "You see the
Christmas rose has been good for something,
after all!"
And I think it was this laugh which told
Carew that she was in earnest, and that he,
too, had won at the last moment, and in the unlikeliest possible manner, isis Christmas Rose.
CHRIsTIAN REID.
OUR CHRISTMAS TURKEY.
IT down at the table, good comrade of
mine;
Here is cheer, and some flasks of the vintage
of Rhine;
Here is warmth here is comfort and smiles
that betray
But a part of the welcome that greets you to day;
And here in the centre, enthroned on a plate,
Superb in surroundings, and royal in state,
You behold-why, what cynic could give him
a scowl?
With his cranberry courtiers, our national
fowl.
Folk call him a Turkey-the name is absurd;
This fowl is a purely American bird.
His strut and his gobble, his arro~ant air
His plumage of bronze, speak my countryman
there.
But no! he's a coward-ah! well that de pends!
He can fight for his hen and his chicks and
his friends;