A Night on the Hudson.
gemming the gorgeous firmament, a delicious breeze
blowing and the grand old Hudson lovely as
ever. And I and Sally sat conversing on many
things; religion, and death, and immortality among
them. And, somehow, I told her the story of my
love-affair with Mary Bilton, the first clear
confidence of that sort I ever made. It�s an
old, dead-and-gone love now, and I might speak
of it. For the better passion that has replaced
it, that�s my earnest-eyed Hannah�s secret, as
well as mine. There�s no fear of mistake in my
relations with Sally, nor am I puppy enough to sup-
pose she would wish seriously to mistake them. She likes
me because I speak truth to her, because she
thinks she can learn something of me, perhaps
because I understand and sympathize with her
position at home. Like many self-contained peo-
ple she has deep feelings, let them be touched. Here�s
an incident, suggestive enough. On the morning of
our long ride together all the others wrote home.
Last night comes a letter from paterfamilias, with
�we have recieved letters from all of you, except
Sarah.� It was Sarah, not Sally, she remarked.
They had not said a word about having written.
I question if the unmerited rebuke didn�t disquiet
the girl�s breast throughout the day. What
the rest of our party supposed from my monopo-