John Gayther's Garden and the Stories Told Therein

ughter of the House came to him, and greeted him with such a glow

"it is a beautiful morning, and I know of

auty in muskmelons," said the D

John replied, letting the hoe fall upon the gr

y I must tell a story, and I have one all ready. I do not believe you ever h

could not see the bird, but it was evident that he was enjoying his own melody. Such pure, sweet notes-now rippling softly, now with a gay little quiver of joy, now a tender prolonged note, now a succession of trills, high and low, that set the air throbbing, and every now and then a great burst of seraphic music, as if his little h

ep sigh. "I was afraid to breathe,"

e that this summer," said

istened rapturously. "A pair of them were here in th

ng ones come back to visit his birthplace. I am afraid, after th

lody," said the Mistress of the Ho

cond person, as if she were listening to one; nor in the third person, as if she were somewhere else; for, in fact, she

be something very foggy about this statement," said he. "I ho

e was about to lose consciousness, she always said to herself, 'Seven o'clock, seven o'clock, seven o'clock,' over and over again until she was really asleep; and in the morning she woke up at seven precisely. She was not married, and so she was able to live her own life much more independently than if the case had been different. She

rly forty years old something happened to her lungs, and her health gave way mor

said the captain. "I don't like it. You ought

derstand it. When Miss Amanda found she had a very little while to live, she composed herself comfortably, and began to repeat to herself the words, 'Fifty years, fifty years, fifty

ked steadily. As he had been advised, he would wait until he felt firm ground beneath him before he made any f

she did not hear; she did not feel. She had no body; no hands or feet; no eyes or ears: she had nothing; and she knew she had nothing. She simply was conscious, and that was all there was about it. She was not surprised; she seemed to take her state and condition as a matter of course, and, to a certain degree, she comprehended it. She remembered perfectly well that she had lost consciou

ss which observed things: but I think it will be a great deal less awkward for me if I speak of that consciousness as Miss Amanda. None of us really understands consciousnesses with their outsides all hull

n; "I agree with you. No

. Presently, however, she did perceive something that was familiar, and if such a thing had been possible her face would have flushed with pleasure. This familiar object was a sun-dial in the middle of a wide grass-mound. The sun-dial was of brass. It was very old, and some of the figures on the round plate were nearly obliterated by time and weather; but Miss Amanda recognized it. It was the same sun-dial she had always known i

me conscious in that direction, the dear old house was not there. There was a house, but it looked new and handsome. It had marble steps, with railings and a portico, but it was another house altogether, and everything

re, would have been nervousness. But suddenly she perceived something which, although strange, was very pleasant. It was a young girl upon a bicycle coming swiftly toward her over a wide, smooth driveway. Miss Amanda had never been conscious of a bicycle; and as the girl swept rapidly on, it seemed as if

steps were heard coming round the house, and the girl, turning her head, called out: 'Oh, grandpa, wait a minute. I am picking these flowers for you.' From around one end of the house, which was a large one, Miss Amanda saw approaching an elderly gentle

itting them. Yes, it was John. There could be no possible mistake about it. It was that harum-scarum young scapegrace John. If Miss Amanda had had a heart, it would have gone out to that dear old boy; if she had had eyes

he seated herself at the other end of the bench, and let the flowers drop into her lap. 'Grandpa,' said she, 'these are for you, but I am only going to give

ay bearing three blossoms into his buttonhole. '

thing I must do, and it is just this: grandpa, there are two gentlemen

w that?' he exclaimed. 'Have

t, and we can't be expected to explain it. You must have felt such thi

dfather, 'have I felt that a young

ou could feel that she would like you to propose

ould he have taken to wife? Could it have been that Rebecca Hendricks-that bold, black-eyed girl, who, as everybody knew, had tried so hard to get him? With all the strength of her consciousness Miss Amanda hoped it had not been Rebecca. There was another girl, Mildred Winchester, a sweet young thing, and in every w

you seem to have some occult reason for suspecting, have

ought to be prepared to give the proper answer to the one who speaks first, whichever one he may be; but I cannot come to a decision which

eman, turning quickly around so that h

ndmother. He surely married Mildred.' And Miss Amanda gazed on the scapegrace John with more affection than she had ever known before. But in the midst of her joy

mind which one of those young men you will take when they propose, make up your mind now, this minute, not to have either of them. If you love either one of them as yo

s in her lap, and then she said: 'But, grandpa, suppose I do not u

ith the most eager and

hat will not do. You want to understand yourself

ings about lovers, and the weather-signs which indicate proposals of marriage, and all that? Has she been going about in society, making investigations into the rudiments of matrimony, during

friend of the Daughter of the House, who lived in a small house in the garden, and who would have

ouse, "and you don't know what comes to them naturally, and

sign, "No lovering on these premises," still, I am a reasonable person' ('You must have changed very much if you are, you dear boy!' thought Miss Amanda), 'and know what is due to young people, and I am obliged to admit that these young men are good e

at am I to say if they ask me?

nd she had two lovers.' ('You little round-faced scamp!' thought Miss Amanda. 'Are you going to tell that child all my love-affairs? And what do you know about them, anyway? I n

at's the one in the oval frame in the

t and look at her, and think that if such a lady, a little bit younger perhaps, but not much, were shut up in a castle with a window to it, I would be delighted to be a knight in armor, and to fight with retainers at the door of that castle until I got her out and rode away with her sitting on the crupper of my sa

have heard that n

confident, and was so handsome and dashing, that everybody said he would be sure to get along, no matter what line of life he undertook.' ('I wonder,' thought Miss Amanda, 'what he did do, after all. I hope I shall hear that.') 'Her other lover,' said the old gentleman, 'was Randolph Castine, a very different sort of young man.' ('

laughed Mildred, 'ho

I once asked my mother if it were wicked to marry aunts; and when she told me it would not do, I said I was very sorry, for I would like to marry Aunt Amanda. I liked her better than anybody else except my mother, and I was

arrett Bridges, should ever marry my Aunt Amanda. As to Randolph Castine or any other suitor, I did not think them really worthy of consideration. Garrett Bridges was the dangerous man. He was at our house nearly every day, and, apart from his special obnoxiousness as a suitor to

d me very much; for I did not want a friend of mine, as she professed to be, to think favorably in any way of such a man as Garrett Bridges. But things were now getting serious, and I did not hesitate to sacrifice my feelings for the sake of my Aunt Amanda. I was always ready to do that.' ('Not always, my boy,' thought Miss Amanda; 'not always, I am afraid.') 'So I resolved to get up a match between Rebecca and Garrett Bridges. As I thought over the matter, it seemed to me that they were exactly suited to each other.' ('That's queer!' thought Miss Amanda. 'I always supposed you thought she was exactly suited to you.') 'Of course I could not say anything to Bridges about the matter, but I went over to Rebecca, and told her the whole plan. She laughed at me, and said it was all pure nonsense, and that if she were goin

Mildred. 'I have known

see her-they were not acquainted. I had no trouble with him, for he was always glad to know pretty girls, and he had seen Rebecca. There never was a piece of match-m

d, 'don't you think all

known a little more, you scheming youngster,' said Miss Amanda, 'you would have understood that there was not the least danger of anything of the kind-that is to say, I am not sure there was any danger.') 'It was not long after these two people became acquainted before I had additional cause for congratul

ildred. 'Didn't you think he

day that Mr. Bridges had proposed to her, and that she had accepted him, and that it was of no use to say anything about it to her father, because he would be sure to be dead set against it. Her mother was not living, and she kept house for her father, who was

orked out the whole plan of operation, which Rebecca afterwards laid before Mr. Bridges as the result of her own ingenuity, for which he commended her very much. They both agreed-and you may be sure I did not disagree with them-that the sooner they were married the better. The equinoctial storms were expected before very long

ame. Old Mr. Lawrence, the Methodist minister, was always up at six o'clock, and he could easily marry them in twenty minutes, and that would give them lots of time to catch the train. I would furnish the conveyance to take them to the village, and would also attend to Rebecca

to carry to a woodshed near the house. Soon after they started in the buggy I would arrive with a spring-wagon an

le-tree this side of the front yard. I said one of the doctor's family had to get to the village very early because there were some things to be done before the train came, and it had been agreed we should lend our buggy. Peter was not quite pleased with the arrangement, and asked why we did not send the old mare-we only kept two horses; but I said she was too slow, and it had bee

re wanted to go to the village before the train started for the city. Then she asked what horse he was going to put to it, and he told her old Ripstaver. Then she said she did not think that was a good plan, because Ripstaver was hard to drive, and it would be a great deal better to send the old mare. Peter agreed to this, and so it happened that when I went to the

t something; and when I went down to the barn myself and found Peter getting the buggy ready to go away early the next morning, I suspected a great deal more. I did not know what to do, for I did not

from which I hoped I might be able to see the buggy, and, if so, I would follow it at a safe distance. As soon as I got to the top of this hill I did see the buggy; but I saw more than that-I saw another buggy not far behind it. There was a roan horse in this one which I knew to belong to the doctor. Bridges was whipping our old mare like everything, and she was doing her best, and galloping

drove back, and Garrett Bridges got into our buggy and went slowly toward the station-to see about his trunk, I suppose. I did not lose any time after that, but drove to the doctor's as fast as old Ripstaver could travel, and I had Rebecca's pillow-case in the woodshed before the doctor arrived. Now I never was able to imagine how the doctor found ou

door, and I told him I did not want to see him but Rebecca, and he went to look for her and found her gone, and I confided to him as a great secret what I was sure had happened, it did not take him long to get his horse and buggy and go after her. And how glad I was she had our old mare, and not Ripstaver! But I thought all the time it was you she had run away with, and I never knew until now th

everal evil consequences would have been avoided.' ('I wonder what they were?' thought Miss Amanda.) 'Well, things went on pretty much as they had been going on, and that Garrett Bridges came every day, just as bold as brass,

make long stays in the summer-time, which would have been utterly impossible in the case of Garrett Bridges.' ('You would have been welcome enough in any home of mine,' said Miss Amanda. 'But you are utterly mistaken about Mr. Castine. Alas! he was no lover at all.') 'But although Mr. Castine was a splendid man in every way

emember very well that at this time she never lectured me about anything; but she sometimes mentioned Rebecca Hendricks, always to the effect that she was a very strange girl, and that she could not help thinking her husband, if she ever got one, would be a man who ought to be pitied

ad heard of my Aunt Amanda's dangerous condition, and he had hurried back to see her and to tell her something before she died. He told my mother, to whom he confided everything, that he had been passionately in love with my Aunt Amanda for a long time, but that he had been so sure she was going to marry Mr. Bridges that he had never given her any reaso

ge that he had loved her. Oh, why had she been told that in life she had been dreaming, and that only now she had come to know what had been real! Nothing th

ined; and she died,' the old gentleman continued, 'my mother

?' asked Mildred, who had been l

and at last he married a very pleasant lady because he thought it was his

any children?'

Mr. Berkeley of Queen Mary County

t all the sweet peas in her lap fell suddenly to the ground. 'Berkeley! Why, Arthur

who he is,' said

all the time my mind was made up, and I did not know it. And after what you have told me of Arthur Berkeley, grandpa, and your Aunt

r he came to me this morning, like the honorable

as no beauty in any sweet-pea blossom, or in any other flower on e

ds!' she murmured. 'This is the way it ends. John's granddaughter and his grandson.

m; then she gazed upon the sweet peas on the ground; then she looked once more upon the old dial, still bravely marking each sunny hour; and the

end," said th

you know of all this knowledge of which your daughter seems possessed-of boy's nature, and woma

sounding," said the Mistress of the House. "There

the pan, "whether it was worth while for Amanda to become con

e had wanted to love her had really loved he

t," said John. "I don't like the way they have in novels of making

John," said the Daughter of the

s it doesn't pan out square. But then, it is meant for a story, and it couldn't be better or mo

John, but she saw he really meant

ORY IS

LD PR

IS C

ANSLA