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On coming to Dunesk, we found Mrs. Peyton and the
young ladies had arrived. Emily Peyton was, as I expected—charming,
and her soft voice and slightly-foreign accent pleasant to hear ;
but what can compare to Annie, with her frank manner, clear mind,
and unique grace. Oh, you lucky Major! For myself I scarcely again
expect to see anything so lovely— I am sure you do not.
In a sporting journal one can hardly go into
sentimental journeys or pleasure-party details—the reader can fancy
it all; the day ramblings, the cheerful evenings, and the sound
sleep, except for—Well, well; let that sleep.
After these gay excursions and some more capital
shooting, we had at last to bid farewell and promised to meet again.
On the evening of the 6th November we returned to
Ardenmohr.
“Again,’’ said Ward, as we came to the lodge; “the
dear old place, once more. Does it not look so homelike?” And really
it was a pleasure to come into the old dining-room, illuminated as
it was with one of Janet Cameron’s brightest wood fires, and every
one seeming so glad to see us back again.
Two days’ rambling and preparations, and then—
We had bid farewell to Ardenmohr, and were driving
south to the busy scenes of life.
“Well,” said Ward (as he drew his plaid closer on
this cool November morning), “people assert that no one would care
to live his life over a second time. I, for one, wish the last three
months were to begin again.”
“Come, don’t mope about small matters, old fellow,”
the Major said, “and give us that rhyme, after the old masters, you
composed the other night— Herrick, or some such worthy, I think was
your model; nothing is so healthy for the mind as shelving self
often and looking a little to others—there’s a platitude for you.”
“Ho ho! Major; paternal instincts already,” replied
Hope, in his droll laughing way; “but you shall have the song” and
as we rolled on he repeated—
THE WINDS.
Be thankful when the north wind blows
For sheltered peace in hut or hall,
Let thought of many lacking all
Thy heart dispose
To seek the sad with griefs untold,
And help the helpless and the old,
When north wind blows.
Be patient when the east wind blows
With chilling blasts through lagging spring,
It but delays the swallow’s wing,
Or budding rose;
Slight are the ills that do not last,
While summer’s bloom yet cometh fast,
When east wind blows.
Be joyous when the west wind blows
With balmy breath o’er field and flower;
Work cheerfully, or, in the bower
Thy loved one knows,
Kiss thy sweet maid; but be ye wise,
Fix the glad day, time quickly flies
When west wind blows.
Be thoughtful when the south wind blows
On ruddy fruit and ripened field,
When earth and sea their treasures yield;
Their giver knows
If ye be worthy of possessing
With common gifts still deeper blessing,
When south wind blows.
Be frank and true whate’er wind blows,
Share joy and grief one with another,
See in each suffering soul a brother,
And smooth his woes;
The kindly heart is doubly blest,
Thy God is love, so take thy rest
Whate’er wind blows.
THE END. |
