"EVENING STAR" SATURDAY SUPPLEMENT OF ENTERTAINING READING.

: Jo. 23.]

AUCKLAND, SATURDAY, MAY 27, 1876.

[Pkice: ONE PENNY.

Poetry.

THE LITTLE BROWN BIRD.

HY DOHA ISA,

! ~,.„ bird wine to my garden one day, . ■ *"' Lrclied him upon a tree. i '/Ira he piped such a soft little song «,aunded like music to me. imtrhesa forward to catch every note, l^lrnest so platntivo and clear, '• "ffitiie ««aot music from out its wee throat ' I^o a cUmO ln my ear' ] ~, bopoed to a bough on the fatrhermost tree, st" " l\a myself out of its sight, doping'twould take up its sojourn with me ' fJfip "oath ray grean Jewes at night. •in wore my wishes, che birdie was gone, i HfJ'-hlthor I never might know: 1 %,?t hen I heard the faint sound of his song • Plm tha fern in the gully bolow. I (f lnd thfi noxt day for iti eventide song ; JII I but listened in vain; I .Seted tua vallo/a, the fern leaves among, I '$ n e'er caught tae cadenco again. I «,«»int it passed by, and spring wMi a smile ; I mater, and spring thrice had fled ; : ~?Xlit of tho tiny brown songster the whole, I'j^glghed lost perchance ho were dona, '" Ji«l ms sitting beneath the green shade, 1 rlhulimr tho perfume around, i i wandered back to the robin that sang I oTipercb, a few yards from ths ground. i< | rti i e thft tit of a wren built her nest in the wall, Lhins close by my sloeve on her way, .Moeikodupherhead, as aha answered the call ; "ternmto, standing by on the spray, t j than a soft trill from the woodbine beyond, Cilljd ma back to the suashine above, <nth.thrill of delight, 'twas the trill of my bird, Jiijlittlo brown bird of my love. ■ indaow, when the summer time sots on tne wane ■ ««birdie comes hither to sing; . jjlaaf-iaden bough ho delivers hia strain, i Aid ha comes onco or twice in the spring. y other birds too charm the summer time now, indthe lark never coases his song : mi He bright summer day:lb his molody heard, i Aid he warbles the winter along. tat H» robin and wren thaVs%»> in my dreams, WiU they evor come hither to roam jlldthe sunshine and showers, and sweet-scented flowers, Aid evergreen boughs for a home ? j

THE OLD CANOE.

BY ALBERT MCE, /

I noni; before the war the appended simple but 3 .utming voraes appeared, without signature or I $&, im a Bhort-lived paper at Little Rock:] Here the rooks are gray, and the shore Is steep, irdtle wator bslow looked dark and deep ; jliirathoragged pine, in its lonely pride, fans gloomily over the murky tide ! flerttha roads and rushes aro long and lank, i And the weeds f,row thick on tho winding bank ; tßOihe shadow is heavy the whole day through, iltaeto at its moorings the old canoe. B«nsele33 paddles are idly dropped, ljsusea bird's wings that the storm has lopped, itjcnaied on the railing, one o'er ona, like the folded huada whea the work is done ; Hie bttiiiy b ick and forth betweon, [is spider atretohe3 his silvery screen !lilli»s):ej.ai owl, with tha dull ' too-whoo,' elite! down on the sido of tho old canoe. Us item, half sunk in the slimy wave. Jibslowly away in its living grave ; lid tilt green moss creep 3 o'er his dull decay Illingits rmuldering dint away, Ito tho hand that plants o'er the tomb a flower, Ms Ivy that mr,ntlo3 the falling tower ; He many a blossom of loveliest has Springs ap o'er tho stern of tho old canoo. j He current] ess waters are dead and Btill, Blithe twilight wiad pl»y3 with the boat at will, i ill lazily in and out again, I IlOoiu the length of its rusty chain, f lite the weiry march of tha hand 3of time, I But meet and port ac the noonday ohfme, I Aid iha shore i 3 kissad at eaoh turning anew, By the dripping bow of the old canoe. Ok|Buny a tinao with ceaseless hand, I lure pished it away from tho pebbly Strand, Indpiddled it down where the atreim runs quick, Wliero tho whirls are wide and th« eddiei are thick, iad laughed as I lsaned o'er the rocking sido, lidlooked below in the broken tide, I) sen thai the fucos and boats were two. Hat were mirrored back from the old canoe. Bit now, as I lean o'er the crumbling sido, And look below in the sluggish tide, ' The faca that I sue there is graver grown, Aid the laugh th it ..I heir is a sober tone, Aidthehan Is thit lent to the light skiff wings Bwo grown familiar with sterner things; But I love to think of tho hours that sped A) I rooted where the whirls their white spray oiied, to tliß bloaaom wived or the gr«en grass grew O'er tho mouldering atom of tho old canoe,

WEDDED.

Some quick and bitter words we said,

And then wo parted. How the sun Swam tlirouga a sadden sea of gray! A. chillt'oll on the summer day. Life's best and Inpiriost hours were done; Friendahip was dead.

How proud we wont our separata ways, And spako no word and made no moan ; Sha braided up har flowing hair, That I hid always called ho fair, Ai 'hough she scorned my loving tono, My word of praise.

And I? I matched her scorn with scorn,

I hated her with all my heart, TJnlil—wo chanced to meet ono day ; Shu turned her pretty head away ; law two pretty taar drops start, • Lo ! love was born. Some fond, repenting word I said,

Sha answered only with a nigh ; Bat when I toon her hand In mino A r-tdiant glory, half divine, Flooded the earth and filled the sky ; Mow we uro wed.

THE SOUL'S FOREBODING.

BY S. TV. DUFIMELD,

I hear, across the desolate roaches Which jot my momory, llii! dreary plashing, up and down the beaches, Of the world-weary se*. Iliroagh pines, long buffeted by utormy waatber, The wind with lingers thin PUys the old tunes, confusing them together As mournful thought sweeps in. And lonely In the margin of the breaker A bird which haunts the shore' Appeals as doth the sparrow to her Maker for succour—o'er aad o'er. .lie moon Is dim—the scud drives fast and faster — .jThe wives catne swift and white, '1 yonder, doomed to imminent disaster, ' a. sail appears in sight. ******* * So ghostly is my dreiun, I waken troubled— To hear ihe wind and rain, "he waving of the city street redoubled, And the child's cry again !

Why Did They Do It?

Last Summer a group of half a dozen men—differing in age, though indistict in dress—were diligently occupied in killing time (the sole employment of watering the.'place life) on front piazza of the Ocean Houso at Newport. Seconded hy good cigars, abundance of gossip, a delicious August afternoon, and an uninterrupted prospect of Bellevue avenue, they were achieving laudable success, particularly as the driving had fairly begun—it was five o'clock—and the women were out in their bravest toilets

Women are said to enjoy a monopoly of gossip ; but it is men who say so. They need to repeat this very frequently for the facts will hardly bear them out. The truth is, they are greater gossips of the two. JN'ot perhaps in quantity, but in every quality that continues unalloyed high-flavoured, first-class gossip, men are entitled to the palm. An example is before us. Here are six men, and the yongest, David Jackson and Myron Mills, bachelors of 25 and 28; Julius Limsoa, a widower of 35: Warren James, a husband and man of family, aged 40 ; Peter G-ardetto, who is supposed to have lost his wife in in some of the (Jourts of Indiana, and John Norpeth, a confirmed bachelor of 50. For the last two hours they have vied with one another in giving the interior his tory of every inmate of the hotel and a number of the villa rosidents. It is ques tionable if all the women in Newport know so much of their acquaintances' private affairs, or could or would tell it so glibly, as these six men do. Every carriage that rolls by furnishes an opportunity for brief narrative and comment on the occupants.

Each of the six contributes his quota, and James and Gardette something more, These two, indeed, seems to be sooially omniscient. They have told exactly how old Ohucklewell and Goldhoarder got their young and pretty wives ; how Mr3. Delaine flirts with each new-comer for a fortnight precisely, and how the Bella donna girls have arranged a connubial campaign for the coming winter, with an endless variety of such choice informa tion as appears to be a component part of the atmosphere of Summer resorts. What magnificent Jenkinses they would have made for the minor news papers ! If they should ever become bankrupt they might starve steadily by doing the society news for the prating press instead of delighting their friends by jumping overboard at midnight from a North river ferryboat.

This, remark is made in an whisper to Mill by young Jackson, who is cultiva ting cynicism as becomes a veteran world ling of fivo-and-twenty, and who is be lieved by Mills to be envious of the older men because they exceed him in talent for tattle.

'By Jove !' exclaimed Simmons, ' there are some pretty women in the carriage ] coming up. Who are they, I wonder P' In a moment the twelve eyes of the group were bent upon the carriage, and the general opinion was that the women weee pretty, ' I don't remember to hava seen them before,' says Norpeth; 'they must be new-comers.' 'Do you suppose Mrs. Delaine would flirt with them, James?' inquired Mills. • A fortnight would be a pretty long time for a corset to contend with a petti coat, wouldn't it ? Who are they, any how?' . ' They must be exceedingly pretty, remarked G-ardette; ' for not one of us has contradicted Simpson's declaration. That is extraordinary. I don't know when I've seen six men agree before about a woman's beauty. We men, whatever our real opinion, are inclined to deny that a woman has beauty when she has the reputation of having it. Weimagine, I suppose, that we show a superior order of taste, and appear to have had a wider experience, if we refuS3 to fall in with a popular verdict.' The carriage had passed now, and Simp son again said.: 'Who are they? It's odd that nobody knows them. Women as pretty as they are would attract attention in Broadway.' « Or in Beacon street/ observed Mills, who was from Boston.

' Or in Chestnut street,' added Norpeth, who, thought he had lived every where, remembered, to the credit of Philadelphia, that he had been born in that old city.

' I know all about them,' was the self satisfied announcement of James.

'.They lived in Now York. They have just come from Newport, having returned from Europe only last week.' * Are theS9 two young men in the car riage with them their brothers ?' asked Jackson, Mills and Simpson, nearly in a breath.

• They are all husbands,' replied James. ' Aren't you mistaken/ queried Mills. ' Those young ladies dou't look as if they were married.' 1 No ; they havn't the faded, worn spirit, crushed air that usually belongs to mat

rimoney,' remarked Norpeth. ' I fancy you must be in error, James. Those two lovely girls look happy.' 'Well I happen to know,' rejoined James. ' They are very much married, and have been this five years. They are noted in their set for being in love with their husbands ; and—'

' Go to James ?' interrupted G-ardetto. ' You must recollect that there is a limit to human credulity.'

' And,' resumed James, ' thoir husbands are in love with them.' 'Thatis impossible!' ejaculated Jack son. 'I thought,' interposed Mills, 'that you said they were from New York ?' 4 Ihequeerest part of it is,' continued James, ' that those young fellows married one another's wives,'

' Married one another's wiv e s! How's thai ?' was the general interrogatory. ' I can't tell it in a minute, and I'm go ing to dine in half an hour. I'll give you the story to-morrow.'

' Oh, let us hear it now,' urged Jackson '• 'we have leisure now. We are smoking and talking at present; to-morrow, we may havejto call and smoke, in which event we shall have no leisure to listen to your tale.'

' Very well, since you insist, The blonde lady is Mrs. Edwin Corry—she was Miss Edith Nixon : the brunette is Mrs. Agus tus Cartiss, formerly Miss Jessie Wayno. Corry is a stock broker ; Curtiss has a rich father and a law office — though I suspect his chief income is from tho former. He is a fellow townsman of yours, Mills, but he has resided in New York for ton years past. He lived in Beacon street once, and he has never done much since. Indeed, I imagine he considers that to have lived in Beacon street is quite enough to render any man's life illustrious. They were married five years ago, as I have said, and their courtship took place here. You see, lam exact.' ' What a capacious memory James must have to contain so* many facts !' remarked Mills, aside.

'.Corry and Curtiss were friends, and had been from boyhood. Thf y were das smatos at Harvared, and are almost always to« gether. Their wives have also boon friends for a longer time.' Corry was spend ing the Summer with Curtiss at the villa of Curtiss' father, and tlie girls were stay ing across the street ia another villa owned by Dr. Baxter, Miss Nixon's uncle. The girls, as you can imagine, were very attractive, and were considered remark ably fond of flirting. The young men had much the ,same reputation, and, naturally enough, the quartet arranged itself in'pairs' and began a mild, sentimen tal siege upon one another. In coquetry, women always get the bettor of men some how though men have the advantage in sex, freedom, force, and conventionality. It was so in this case. The men before they were well aware of it, fell in love with the girls and wanted to marry them.' • What fools some men ara !' exclaimed Norpeth. ' They can't get fond of a woman without wishing to hamper her by wedlock, when they ought to know that marriage extinguishes love as water does^fire.' ' In the absence of marriage,' observed Mills, furtively, to Jackson, ' some men undertake to extinguish tho firo of love with brandyand-water'_ (glancing signifi cantly at Norpoth's rubicund nose). ' Never mind disquisitions, James,' said Gardette. ' Let us hear how those fellows married one another's wives. I'm inter ested in that; for they certainly appear very contented with the wives they have now.' 1 Never trust matrimonial appearances, said Norpeth. ' They lie like husbands that come home at 3 o'clock in the morn-

ixig.' My disquisitions are nothing to yours, gentlemen,' resumed the narrator. ' Let me finish my story ; for I have no idea of giving up my side. It isn't much of a story, anyhow, and ought therefore to be short. As I was saying, they fell in love with the girls, and consequently imagined the girls to be in love with them.' (' Masculine if not natural!') murmured G-ardette. • The girls, however, weren'tin love with anybody but themslves.' (' No such devotion in the world,' solilo quized Norpeth, ' as the devotion of a woman to herself.') *At least, they didn't know it if they were. They were merry mercurial crea tures, full of joyous phyaicality, intoxicated with the stimulant of their own charms. Besides, they had no faith in the sincerity of their gallants. The reputation of those gentlemen had gone before them, and the girls had no notion of being outwitted in fair flirtation.'

'You haven't informed us yet,' inter rupted Mills, ' who was in love with whom. Perhaps each young man was enamored of both women, and you have already told us the women were merely enamored of themselves. This is indeed a sentimental complication; but how you are to get any regular issue therefrom puzzles me to 'Just what I am about to tell. The time for. particulars has now come. I

flatter myself I know how to tell a story. I'm not so stupid in that way as people are who print stories in the newspapers and magazines. They get things wonder fully mixed up.' ' Leave James alone !' cried Jackson. ' He's a regular Scheherezade in trou sers.'

1 Who's he ?' asked Simpson. ' I never heard of him; but suppose he's soino new contributor to tho magazines.' 'As Miss Noxon is now Mrs.? Corry, and Miss Wayne Mrs. Curtiss,' remarked James, 'it is not so hard to judge of tho direction of the yeung men's affections.' ' But then women never marry the man they love.' affirmed Norpeth.

' Exceptwhen they married one another's husbands,' rejoined Jackson. ' Shall I be permitted to go on ? Corry, lost his heart to Miss Wayne the blonde and Curtiss to Miss Nixon, the brunette. Corry, being more ardent that his friend, decided to propose at once, lest ! his inamorata should be secured by somebody else. He fixed the evening and the hour just as he would have down, for the delivery of any stock. He called at the villa at 7 o'clock, when he thought nobody in but his beloved. The night was warm and the drawing-room was lighted only by the moon. ' What a romantic occasion! Howjnature sympathizes with my purpose!' he probably whispered to himself, for even Wall street can be poetic on a pinch. * In a few minutes he was seated on the sofa by Miss Wayne, and leading rapidly up to his main subject. She. perceived his drift, as any woman would, and just before ho reached the dangerous edge she begged to be excused for a moment.

'In thirty seconds sho was back, and he, fearful of futher interruption, told her he loved her devotedly, and asked her plumply to be his wife. She roplied in a very low tone that ho had overwhlemed her with surprise ; that she had believed he loved another ; that it could not be she to whom he had intended to propose

' Yes, it is you, and you alone,' he ex claimed, seizing hor hand and bending over it with hungry kisses. ' You are the only woman I love" or ever can lore!' ' Then I suppose I cannot refuse you,' Sho replied. • Whereupon Corry, with a tervent ' God bless you, darling!' looked up ; caught the young lady in his arms, and rapturously kissed Edith Nixon. _ ' A look of amazement flashed into his face and she said quietly: ' I thought you had made something of a mistake.'

1 Well—well —realy—ro—tho fact is—,' he stammored out, and she burst into a roar of laughter.' ' Just then Miss Wayne entered the room, remarking: ' There must bo something delightfully droll going on here ;' and then she laughed.

' For a man who is in love to bo regarded as a target foe merriment is not pleasant. Corry felt angry. He knew he had been made the subjoet of a joke; and ho wanted to be revenged upon somebody. Seeing Miss Wayne still laughing, and still fancying her to be deeply interested in him he determined to punish for her her untimely levity. Consequently he said, solemnly: ' I am not mistaken, Miss Nixon : I shall claim your hand, as I have already given you my heart. Permit me, young ladies, to bid you good evening. You seem to be so mirthful in mood that I fear, by remaining longer, I might cast a shadow on your micth.' ' As he retired, he heard Miss Wayne's silvery laugh rippling through the room ; and as he drove his hat down on his head, ko was willing to make oath there were bitter tears behind those silvery njtes.

' Let her weep 1' he exclaimed savagely ' She would break her heart, before I'd comfort her! Break her heart, the abom inable flirt! she has no heart to break !' Aud after tkis speech whistled at the moon, and swore at himself.

' In this mood he wont directly home— the villa of his friend's father —and there found his friend, who also appeared to be in remarkably high spirits. ' What the makes everybody so jovial to-night?' he mentally inquired, with the feeliag of irritation that we all have when our com panions reflect the opposite of our own fec'ingja. 1 The young men had so far exchanged confidences as to bo acquainted with one another's aliectional blazes, thoua;li neither had admitted being positively in love. Curtiss noticed Corry's sullenness, and rallied him on it to an extent that greatly increased the lattcr's vexation. When he would not have done, the stock broker decided to tell the truth, believing that might have the effect of abating Curtiss' hilarity, even if it should not render him so uncomfortable as himself. ' What's the matter with me P you ask Matter enough! I'm going to be married.' ' Going to be married ? That's a joke, I'm sure, Ned.'

'It may be a joke to you, but it's serious to me.' •So it seems. JSTow tell me, pray, the name of fche lady you a,re to honor,'

"Miss Edith Nixon.'

'An extraordinary change came over the face of Curtiss (at this Corry inwardly rejoiced), and, after a few seconds of silent confusion, he said:

1 You don't really mean it, Ned ?' ' I do, most decidedly, Gus. 1 ' I ean'fc doubt your word, of course. But you wore not engaged to her this morning, unless you deceived me in the conversation we had about the girls at breakfast.'

'I proposed to her, Ned, less than an hour ago, and was accepted/ 1 Well, that is queer.' 'Yes, it is. But women are all queer, unti] you know them, and then—' •Then what?' ' Then they are queerer than before,' ' I believe you're right, Ned. Bat let me wish you joy, old fellow. As you know, I had a little interest in that quarter my self. But lot that pass. I really believe she'll make you one of the best and sweet est of wives.'

' I hope so, though that remains to be seen, Ned. Predictions about women and wedlock generally are always unsafe.' The conversation, which neither seemed disposed to continue in the same vein, wandered off to general topics, and in half an hour they went to bed, neither of them in very good humor. Corry had evidently succeeded in making his friend uncomfort able also.

' The next morning they did not break fast together as was their custom ; nor did they meet until dinner time, when Corry appeared to have fully recovered his composure. In truth, he was some what flushed, and far more voluble than usual.

' As soon as they had sat down he broke oat with: ' Ned, I'm not much behind you. I'm engaged, too. I proposed to Jessie Wayne this morning and she said ' Yes' without the least bit of a scene. She's a sensible girl, and I must admit her exceeding good taste. She admires Boston above every city on the globe, and thinks it very much like Athens in the tone of its society.'

' The two couples were married in New York, on. the same day, in the same church, two months after, and, so far as known, have rojoiced ever since. They seem to be happier than they would have been if they had carried out their first purpose. I'm not at all sure that fortune does not often serve us better by thwart ing our deliberate intent than by allowing us to obey it. Here these young men really married one another's wives—that is the women they had elected to be sueh — and circumstance steps in to cheat them into their own felicity.'

1 Might they not have been just as happy with the original objects of their choice?' inquired Simpson. ' Don't ask such a foolish question,' re marked ITorpeth. ' It's self-evident that if a man finds coujugal contentment with one woman, there cannot be another woman in a thousand miles of her who wouldn't have niado him miserable.'

'In other words,' observed Mills, ' the avatars of matrimonial happiness are rarely contiguous.' 1 That may be the way they would pafc it in Boston,' responded James. ' I pre fer plainer language.' 1 It's an odd story,' observed Simpson. ' I don't quite understand how Miss Nixon substituted herself for Miss Wayne in the drawing-room that evening.' 'You're one of the fellows,' replied James, ' with whom it is never safe to leave anything to the imagination. She went in, of course, at the request of Miss Wayne, who probably thought Corry'« prelude to proposal a continuation of the flirtation. Hearing the laughter, Miss Wayne appeared to take part in the fun.* ■ Ah, I see I The young ladies thought it was a sham battle. They didn't know Corry was shooting real bullets. But why did they permit the joke to go so far ? Do you suppose thoy accepted each other's lovers because their owe lovers had piqued their vanity ?'

' Allow me to observe, Simpson,' said J^orpeth, ' that you have been married to so little purpose that you should repeat the experiment in the interest of sexual wisdom. James didn't make the women, and if he had made them, he couldn't tell why they acted as they did. Probably they don't know themselves. Whether they knew or notj the very things that men are most desirous to find out—the things they would give anything to learn —are just the things women would never tell.' '

' Norpeth,' said James, ' you avow yourselt a bachelor, but you talk like a man who has been a hundred times a hus* band-'

The other day, np in Watertown, N. V., the wind blew a lady directly into a gentle man's arms, and ever since that time, when ever Old Probabilities indicates breezy weather, the sidewalks of the town are ao crowded w?ch young men as to render them almost impassable. A lac of rupees in India does not indicate poverty.