MYSELF AND LITTLE "KATIE."

BY EDWIN F. ROBERTS.

WAS I ever in love? I just believe you. What a question! 1 waswildly, furiously, madly in love (you may spell it with a big L-Love, if you like) with my little neighbour and school-fellow Kate Arden, as sweet a little fairy-child as ever, with her soft voice, sunny looks, and endearing ways, made herself beloved by all who knew her.

How big was I? Bigger than your thumb,-come now. How old? Oh, not a round dozen, by any means. I'm not offended; only I feel hot when I think of her, and then I grow sad; for I see the pretty head with its brown clusters lying so still, and the nut-brown eyes closed with violetcoloured lids, and the sweet hands folded, and-and-oh, my darling! my little darling! I must cry for you yet, for you will never kiss me again nor clasp me round the neck with your loving arms.

Now, I'm going to stand no nonsense; and if I do wipe my-nose, does it signify to you? You want to know about my little sweetheart, Kate, and I'm going to tell you. She was prettier than any one I have ever seen since. She had a head so bright and golden-brown, that you could think of nothing but fondling it; and as for filling it with horrid multiplication tables, and those ugly columns of long spelling, I held that it was a shame to put it to such wrong, dry miseries, what was fit only to make one glad and happy to look upon.

She was not quite such a fairy of a creature as you may think. Fairies can't laugh, and romp, and play, and pinch your cheek, or pull your hair,can they? I don't believe they can; and she could do all these; and you don't know which you liked her to do the most-in what temper you loved her best.

We went to a day-school together, it is a provincial fashion; and our old schoolmaster's wife-a faded, fretful, but kind body she was, for all that-attended to the girls' classes; the school being a great raftered room, part of an ancient-looking house, and occasionally used as a chapel. He had a mania for angling,-the trout and salmon in the river were irresistible; and every boy was a dabster at weaving horse-hair lines for the master, until he had a stock that must have been something wonderful; while, as for their strength, they would have stood the tug and lashing of a conger eel.

But about Katie. We were about an age and stature, and neighbours' children-each living "over the way;" and I soon vowed (to myself) eternal devotion to Kate, and used to watch her to school-at first, from a distance, till we grew friendly and confiding, and then we waited or called for each other, and then came and went together.

The school was a picturesque, ivy-canopied, straggling, rambling old building, which in the summer had such drooping lilacs about it, such oderous roses, a wealth of foliage, a garden crammed to suffocation with all sorts of fruits, flowers, apple-b'ossoms, and such a giant of a walnuttree, as you can't think. Then round about-for the country was something to look at-there were dells, and running waters, and dingles, where we gathered blackberries when we didn't gather nuts, and gathered nuts when we didn't gather anything else. In my blackberry war-paint, or walnut-juice, I was something to look at too, for we were not particular

as to choice. To cut this short, the whole was a sweet spot, I can tell you, with no end of changes,-all offering such an extent of play-ground as you don't find near any schools that I am now acquainted with.

Katie had a brother-a big brother, and how it happened that she who was so pretty could have a brother like Tom-that was his name,—with his hair growing in obstinate directions, cheeks puffed out like pale apple dumplings, and one bigger than the other-who had a doubtful left eye, and was exceedingly awkward with his arms and tolerably heavy with his handswho blubbered when scolded, and turned one knee in; how he could be her brother, and how she could be so fond of him, is a thing that I have not been able to understand to this hour.

It was the case though, and I soon found it out-a little to my cost. I took a tremendous thrashing from him one day, just as I was beginning to polish him off for having shown an intention of mastering my marbles without winning them. At the critical moment when his cupidity had become aggressive, and I was roused into action by a blow on the nose, and just as I was finding out that he was a little of a bully, Katie came running up, her eyes flashing, her lips quivering, her cheeks pale with anger, and fearlessly stepping between us, poured upon me a torrent of such angry reproaches, that if I had been going to be Tom's butcher she could not have disarined me sooner. The result was that my hands were down instantly; and then Tom took the opportunity of crowning his victory with a slap in the chops which made my jaws chatter, recommending me to be careful how I turned upon him for the future.

I sacrificed all the peace of mind I was able to invest in tops, for him, as if he was a Moloch or an ugly "Joss," (Tom, I am happy to add, has not belied the promise he gave, for he couldn't be much uglier if he had been carved out of wood), and she his worshipper. I became his abject slave, and made over an infinite amount of property to him, including a kite, ever so many yards of twine, an old knife, a trap's-ball, marbles not to be counted. I became his friend (he did not misuse me after, for a reason of his own, maybe), and I was rewarded by Katie's smiles, his fullest approbation, her entire confidence; from that hour she was my "lode-star"-I was her champion-hers, for ever-Oh little Kate! that "for ever" was very, very brief.

When she did not call upon me, I called upon her. As we sat together at the window of their room, which looked into the garden, I sometimes noticed her father-he was a collector," possessing wealth and power incalculable-a portly person and a loud voice-as he smoked his long pipe-glance towards us, and smile. Her mother, with her kindly pleasant face, would stand now and then and listen, laughingly, to our chatter, or while reading to one another from our story-books-that's how I knew about the "Pilgrim's Progress," and how she knew about "Robinson Crusoe." As for Tom, he had no great taste for anything beyond "sweets"-perhaps he had not found out his Kate, perhaps "ring-taw" and "trap" had greater attractions than our pretty fairy-tales. Oh, dear me, how we two, with our arms passed round each other's necks, used to wander up and down those enchanted gardens-pass through those wondrous palaces, built up in a night, and vanished ere the next eve came! How we followed the Pilgrims through the dreadful Valley, and avoided the awful blandishments of "Vanity Fair." How we shrank from the appalling foot-print in the sand-and shuddered with the lone mariner on his raft. For all these, I liked marbles, and bird's-nesting, and boy's play, quite as well as the liveliest of them all. I wasn't sentimental, and I wasn't a "spooney," for all the grin I see ready to break out on yourwell then, I won't say "ugly mug," but don't you be too sharp on a fellow.

The more you were with Kate, and the more you knew of her, the more her winning ways, sweet temper, and loving affectionate nature would shine about you, just as if the sun were coming out with a double power of light and warmth. She had a good deal to do to please her little brothers and sisters at home-three or four, I think; but as for Tomwhom I could have strangled-there, you have it-many a time-he was such a rough beast to her at times. I never knew a creature so-well, so he was ugly. There must have been something beautiful in him after all, which she alone could find out-I couldn't-for she actually doted on him, and didn't he reward her for it! He loved her in his queer way, and she didn't care, the sweet darling, how rough that way was, so that he loved her at all. He couldn't have helped himself nohow.

I played truant for Kate, and grew so hardened in that appalling depth of criminality that I didn't feel any regret-what do you think of that? I would do it again, but it is too late-not needed now. I have made forays, and foraged for her. I have gathered her baskets of blackberries, and bushels of ripe hazel-nuts. I have caught for her dozens of plump trout, gathered her early violets, and barrow-loads of cowslips. They cooked the trout, and I am sorry to say that "hips and hawes" and raspberries, and much fruit generally, would make Katie ill, and I have been half heart-broken for the share I took in it.

I have torn my clothes to shreds for her-broken my head, scratched my face and hands among the brambles-once I was nearly drowned, in fishing up a trumpery old bracelet that we saw shining in the mill-pond, under the bridge, and at half a wish she expressed I scrambled in for it, and what's more, I got it too; but I shan't forget her white face in a hurry, nor the scolding I got from her-I did so like that. If I could have got the moon, and rolled it at her feet, a regular "cheese" of the very greenest character, I'd have done it, and no mistake. In the deepest dingle, or the highest tree, no nest was secure from me. It was understood at last, I'm greatly afraid, that if I did not show at school I was needs on some predatory excursion, in which she was principal and accessory, bless her! but our old Tinglefinger was a kindly old fellow, and did not massacre us boys, as I've heard they do at some schools.

I suppose you are getting a little tired of me, and think I ought to speak a little more to the purpose about Katie; but, if this is not all about her, who is it about? Me! Nonsense. Besides, without me, you wouldn't know anything of her at all.

Well, there was the summer, and we spent our half-holidays and spare time-a lot of us-in the leafy woods, down in the meadows anywhere, amidst grass and flowers, and sunshine, and the sweet hay. Then the autumn took us into the gardens, or on a nutting expedition; and then came the winter, with howling winds and sheeted snow, and we had our books by the evening fireside, and oh, how happy we were; and then came Christmas, with its pudding, and its presents, and its Christmas tree, the first I had ever seen, but I shant keep you long about that.

It was the merriest and the happiest Christmas party you ever knew, and besides, a number of us smaller folks-I was one of them, you may be sure, and Katie, of course, was another, and looking in her white frock and her blue sash and ribbons, with her rosy checks and her curling brown hair, just like a little angel-besides, about a dozen of us, there were grown up people-grandfathers and grandmothers, and uncles and aunts, and fathers and mothers, and cousins and friends and, if we young ones were the merriest, the old people, with their aged faces beaming with kindness and their great pockets stuffed with presents-they were the jolliest, and the tree was all-ablaze with little lamps and candles, and we had music

and a dance-Sir Roger de Coverley and a minuet-and such feasting, and heaps of toys, and that Christmas tree, with all the pretty stories that a white-haired old gentleman told about it, and its associations, and the angels that brought gifts down, and the beautiful and solemn story belonging to that time, that I couldn't help listening, although he did have Katie on his knee, and though she did put her arms around his neck and kiss him; but she came and sat by me afterwards, when we whispered these rare things over again, or played together at forfeits. I couldn't forget those wonderful things, and then we had funny stories told us, which made us laugh, and one about a tall ghost which made our flesh creep, but, I think, we liked that story as well as any, it was so very astonishing. And so that Christmas passed by, and the long winter nights which followed were pleasantly spent, as beto e, with our books and fairy tales and pictures, until I don't know why, I began to fancy that something very dreadful was about to happen, and, at last, I found it, and oh! the despair and the terror that began to fill my breast.

There were a good many parties given about this time, and one to which Katie went without me. Of course, I could not always be with her to protect and take care of her. I remember how her father roared out, "Oh! oh! oh!" when I told them so. And when she returned, some days afterwards, I noticed that there seemed an anxious look about the household-that Katie was wrapped in shawls, in the parlour, by the fire-that the doctor came, and, with a laugh that gave me joy to hear, it was so full of health, "Well, and how were we to-day?" speaking to Katie, and calling her his "little woman," and that Katie coughed every day, and that a strange light came into her eyes, quite different from the sweet lovely light that used to dance and sparkle in them before; and that on her cheeks, which used to be so rosy, there were two red spots which awed me; and I used to look upon her in a silence so wistful,-with a feeling so strange and awe-stricken to myself, that she would hold out her arms and say, Frank, dear Frank, don't look at me so-you frighten me!" but how it frightened me, I can't tell you; and then, I remember, how, with a sob, I would sit beside her and lay my head on her lap, and she would smooth my head and kiss it, and say, "Oh! Frank, dear Frank, don't cry."

But, what was the use of telling me that, you know, when a fellow couldn't help it?

It was a heavy time for me, for when alone I thought and moped about Katie; but I always pulled up spirits was cheerful and brisk when I went to see her, which was every day, but our evenings were now sadly shortened, and her cough was become distressing. The poor little darling was dying-dying of one of those slow, yet fierce and horrible fevers, arising from cold on the lungs. Her delicate frame could not stand against the kisses of that fever-demon, which she had met on the night I was not with her, and how changed she was becoming every day! Our evenings were shortened, as I said, because she was obliged to be borne to her little chamber early. She used to kiss me on wishing me good evening, and say:

"Good-night, Frank dear, I shall name you in my prayers. Pray for little Katie, and be a good boy, and cheer up poor Tom."

Tom used to cry dreadfully, and, I think, his heart was tender enough— if his head was soft. I used to say my prayers too, I hope, and if they could have saved her, Katie woud have been alive now. It was better that she should add to the number of the angels. I thought I heard her sweet voice singing when the Christmas angels gathered in my dreams at the next Holy-tide.

I had by this time borne away my little flying island out of the scents of the garden and the orchard, out of the sunshine and chequered shadows, and moored it, with all its wizard and fairy splendours, beside the fireplacebeside Katie's couch, where she now lay daily, and when the winds were making sad complainings and the snow falling fast, and the angry sleet dashing against the faces of the passers-by-then I read to her as before, but we added now to our favourite stock, the sermons on the Mount, the miracles of our Saviour, and the beautiful parables, by which He taught us such sacred lessons of love and goodwill to men; and I saw that Katie, with her eyes half closed and her hands folded together, would wear upon her lips a smile, such as was never there before, and I knew that she felt happy.

I don't mean to say much for myself, when I tell you that I gave up marbles and top, kite and fishing-tackle, cricket and prison-bars, and the rest of the sports our boys engaged in, because the wintry weather was not very favourable for them; but skating and slides I had no time for now, as I was always with Katie when out of school, and in school my thoughts were with her, and, I think, old "Tinglefinger" behaved with kindness and forbearance to the forlorn lad, who saw his little sweetheart dying daily before his eyes, and overlooked many a slip and blunder, and many a neglected lesson.

Did this approach of Death, whose stealthy footfalls seemed to grow daily louder and to arrive nearer, frighten me, you ask? I am inclined to believe that it did; but not quite in the way that one feels usually frightened, at something that is hideous or dreadful. The mystery of Death seemed to be invested in her person, with something that was awful, but also beau tiful. The whisperings that came in the midst of silence, as from unseen presences that were watching over her, were as things which I cannot explain, but clear to some hidden sense within me that made them understood, but not to ear of flesh, to eye of reason, or to any process of thought. She was before me, and beside me, and about me; and if I was at first disposed to murmur and complain, she had in her teachings, her words, and her ways-all now imbued with a loftier and higher character,-made me submissive, if not happy. It was a change, singular enough to me, for they told me many a time that I had not a very tractable temper. Little Katie could calm the wildest storm in my breast-dissipate every trouble, and make me by a word or a sign as quiet as a lamb and as easily led. She could do anything with me.

So day by day passed on, and week by week went by, and the winter was passing into spring, and oh! I hoped, I prayed that she might be able to stray into the meadows once more, that I might gather wild flowers for her, and fetch bundles of the rushes wherewith to make fantastic caps. But the Spring was not to bring her health and strength and renewed beauty. It was only to blossom upon her grave.

One evening I went to their house-I was almost a part of the household now-and a little later than usual. I saw that she was not down stairs; and I met the clergyman, a good, kind, venerable man, who was passing in from the stairs as I entered. Despite his office and my respect for him, I could not help looking upon him with something of a half-angry, hateful fear. You may guess what he boded.

"Is-is-anything the matter-is Katie worse?" I managed to gasp

forth.

He looked down upon me with a tenderness and pity. "You had better not see her," he said, "your little play-fellow is not likely to outlive the night;" and I rushed in with a choking sob, and a great cry just begun which I had the power to suppress.