Rensselaer Union, Volume 2, Number 35, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 26 May 1870 — A TRAVELER’S STORY. [ARTICLE]

A TRAVELER’S STORY.

BY QUIBBLER.

While sitting upon my front porch one day, a matt rode up to my gate, dressed in a traveling suit of gray ; he hastily dismounted, and, coming up to my side, asked me, without further ceremony, if I ■ remembered him? I replied that I did not; whereupon he said that we met, once upon a time.-at a State Fair in. New Hampshire, where he learned incidentally that I was at all times eager to gather up a good story, and, as somithingof interest had happened in his neighborhood, he had come all the way from the State above mi ntioned to tell it to me, together with the whys anti wherefores. Surprised and delighted by this generosity, I ordered his horse to be taken care of, another easy chair, and a box of prime Havanas, when after lighting a cigar, he proceldedjWlth bisnarrative In the following manner: There Hvedmpon a farm adjoining my father’s a mWtt by the name ,of Solomon Jones. He was a good-hearted being, in easy circumstances, and had one-child, a beautiful daughter. He took great pains to educate this girl, spending money lavishly in all sorts of ways in order to put her in possession of such knowledge as was deemed requisite for her future welfare. But, with all her accomplishments, she failed to gain humility, and grew up a proud, capricious beauty, having all things gehi rally her own way and per"plexing fii'r father at times to such a degree that fie almost wished he had given her no education at all. At length, when she cai e to womanhood, ho began to cast about to find, her a suitable match—a man who would, in the main at least, make her happy, for she appeared, of herst If, to have little regard for all that is true and noble in the opposite sex. In this business he used his ordinary good sense and foresight, overlooking the vain, pretentious characters of the neighborhood, and fixing his choice upon a plain, honest young man. ,whom he knew would make, a good husband for any sensible woman—-tiny woman who had the least respect for ipddstry and truth, which is, all tho good there is in either man or woman. These conclusions he communicated to his wife, saw at once the wisdom of the project. But it remained, of course, to bring the two young people together in l<fve before any serious step could be taken in the matter. This had to be done as speedily as practicable also, for the young lady had taken a fancy for a foppish singing-master, who had more whiskers than sense, and unless her desires could lie fumed about, or at least counteracted, she would, in all probability, manage to nfiffry the noddlehead, and so give the whole hdnfie something to repent of t'-o ' uigest day she lived, and herself as Well. Having matured his plan, the old gentleman set out for the village just before hay harvest, aud< having laid the matter candidly before the young man whom he desired _for his son-in-law. and who, by the lived with h|m once, and at ouatiins been in great favor with the daughter, whom he loved yet, secretly, he instructed.him in regard to the part he was to play, remarking that a little deceotion must be u.sed, which, in pease involving th<- Happiness of so many persons, And for the purpose of foiling the intentions of one who cared not for their welfare, as he truly believed, would not be out of place, so'as to make the schema a successful one; and t hen he engaged him to come on in a' few days and work for him the remainder of the year,—all of which was done without the knowledge of Miss Priscol I a Jones, of course. “ I shall havp to get some one to help me tbr<>pjj(f|a&ting,">- said the farmer as he sat at The breakfast-tatia one morning. “ I wonder if John Simpson is employed anywhere. He was a good, steady hand wiki WO had him before.” “ I think yo# inay'get John," answered the wife, “if you try. I wbuld see him—h« is industrious and ,tru u ty, too." Soon an'catnc young Simpson, an intelligent, jWrthy, hut unassuming young man, with a bran new Scythe, and went to work ialhcJiay. Down went swath after swath, following each other in straight lines acrdss<the brerafl'fadd; until all was laid low. Out came the horse-rake, and soon Tittle mounds dotted the stubble. Tifen thu oxen. ,slowly, brought load after load, uqfalfoh# whole was stowed away in the bam,. Presently tha. harvest was done, and John shouldered his scythe and was getting ready to depart. “ Yom might stay a week longer,” said farmer Jones, “if you so desire. The stone dfw* on the hill Wants to be hauled off. Yoh have no particular need of going away so soon." “ 1 dam's know," replied John, casting a sly look at Priscella, who sat sewing while he stood fit Ihb door resting the cornet of hi*scythe Upon the sill, “as 1 care to go away particular; only I thought I would rather WBJlic balance of the summer down 6nfyiC Wuc Fork. I have an uncle down there fa short of help. 1 think I will go to film. q ' “N< ver mind, young man; stay with me a wfi’ef, longer, and then I will talk to you about that. Take the oxen. John, afid gmejown on the hill and haul off the sto’ic. By the time that Job is done, I gu 'so, wj.fic, ,X can get along without you.”

Away went John to his work, leaving Priscella to wonder if he really did want to go down to the Blue Fork. She wondered also why he was so changed from what he used to be in the old limes. No j ikes now, —no laughter, as of old. He treated her civilly—almost coldly. He was essentially changed. What was the reanon y She wished she knew—that she did. A week passed by and young Simpson again made ready to go away. “ Tut, tutl” said the farmer, “go over to the new ground, man, and take out the roots so that I can plow in the spring. You may as well work for me as any one else. Go over to the new ground for a week ; at the end of that time we will see what we will see " John went as desired, and worked away with a will, while Priscella was left a sec ond time to wonder why he so desired to go down to the Blue Fork. She owned n her own heart that she was glad that he had resolved to stay a time longer where he was. But she wished she knew why he wanted to go away, or if he really d’il want to go. She was so pleased, however, upon the whole, that at dinner she showed extraordinary good spirits, insist ed on the young man taking two pieces of pie, and in various little ways unwittingly gave evidence that something had hapnened that chimed decidedly with her feelings. “ A good boy John Simpson is to work,” said old Mr. Jones, coming in. one warm aft“rnoon to take a short rest upon the shady side of the portico where sat Mrs. Jones and Priscella sewing. “ But I suppose I shall have to lose him. He is determined, it seems, to go down to his uncle’s. Well, I suppose he will have to go." “ What does he want to go away for?" asked Priscella, gathering up the hem of her apron ; for she knew how -to make such an article, and wear it, too, with all the rest. “ How do I know, sis ? He is bent on going, that is all. I twould like him to stay all summer and fall here if he would." “ I think you had better give him more wages,” said the farmer’s wife. “He always wants the best chance he can get— John does—that trait will make him well off some day. It may be he can make more by going away, and that may be the secret of his desire. “ I think you bad better keep him, too, some way, lather," put in Priscella, who had occasionally a word of advice to give when she thought the old folks in any way needed it. “ Have him stay, father There is no reason for his going down to the Blue Fork, It is only a notion he has got into his head.” It is hardly worth while to say that John “ stayed." Week after week went by—still be “ stayed ” Priscella began to be quite friendly with him, for she had always admired his industry and honesty of heart,— points which always are admired in secret, if not openly, for the reason that the human soul is not capable of exactly shutting its eyes upon the true and beautiful. Meanwhile Mr. Pink Vansmoozle, the singing master, pressed his suit. He rode out with Miss Jones on horseback; whirled her up and down the road in his buggy —or a hired one—and sought, with solt talk and polite palaver, to win her heart, which he considered a very easy task. But when fall Came on, she had, by constantly comparing the silly commonplaces of the perfumed fop with the few solid words of wisdom uttered by Simpson, became slightly disgusted with the former, despite his mustache and cane. To conclude in her own heart that John was much the-best man all around, and would make the most loving and lovable husband, was a short piece of work for her ; still she had no. idea of ever being his wife— no t the least idea of that But one thing she did know— she wouldn't marry Mr. Pink Vansmoozle. As for John, he needn’t think she would have him either —for she wouldn’t—laws! no. “ Well, Priscella,” said the fanner, “ when are you and the singing-master to be married ? He has been coming here a long time. Vansmoozle is really a young gentleman of character. So I am informed." “ Father,” said the young lady, looking up to see if he was in earnest, “ I’ll never marry that noddlehead. If he means anything more than flirtation with me he is sadly mistaken. If I cannot find a better man than he is for a husband, I will live and die an old maid.” “He said several things to me to-day, when I met him in the lane,” said the old man, soberly. “ I shall expect you to be guidedby parental authority. Yon are old enough to know what is for your own good. If you do not, others will know for you.” “ Father,” exclaimed the daughter, with considerable emotion, “I would not marry Pink Vansmoozle if he were the last man on earth. Don't urge any such absurd thing, because I could never love him. He is a shallow, self-conceited fop. There I Why, I would marry Jojyi Simpson ten times tyj’ore I would marry him.” “You will not marry John Simpson I” said the old man authoritatively; “you will do as I say, my girl. John Simpson will be sent off to morrow, if that’s your whim. I did expect you to listen to reason when it came to choosing a husband This was the last straw. The poor girl burst into tears and went to her room, where she staid the remainder of the day. She did not appear at the supper table, for fear her red eyes would be noticed by John, The next morning she felt better, having been comforted somewhat by her mother ; still she was firm in her resolution never to marry “ that singing master.”

Now it happened that when Mr. Jones met Vansmoozle in the lane, M, the farmer, considered It a good opportunity to speak a piece of his mind, something he had for some days been thinking about, so he out wlthjt in as good language as he could command. The gist of the matter waa that he did not desire that fine young gentleman to keep company with his daughter any longer. Ho did not consider hint, from what he heard, a proper companion for any virtuous girl. He hoped he would take the hint in time and not darken his door again, foriif he did, there would certainly be uaed a stronger argument than mere words. Thia waa coming to it at pretty close range. The perfumed young gentleman twisted his' immaculate mustache with one band, twirled his cane with the.other, flashed his black eyes, and demanded to know the author of such a monstrous scandal upon hia fair name. At this the old man put him in mind of a transaction that happened not forty .miles away—the facts concerning which he had procured that very morning—that dimmed materially in the eyea of all

well meaning men the brilliancy of the name Vansmoozle as it applied to him. The singing master now changed his tune again to suit the promptings of his education, and after indulging in certain remarks about an “ old codger,” a “ crusty oly fudge,” that lowered him still more, as he deserved to be, in the esteem of the well-meaning farmer, minced away. John Simpson worked on. The days went by. It was rumored about that the singing-master, who was wont to strike his harp in the village below, had gone away. Old Mr. Jones wondered mightily at this, especially when Priscella was by. Still he declared by word and looks in a thousand ways that his daughter should not marry the inan who was putting in wheat in the bottom fields. He was well enough in his way, John Simpson was. But he desired his daughter to look a httle higher for a husband than a common farm laborer, though he owned he had once been one himself. Priscella still insisted on making John happy; that is, if John was willing ; and tbe mother siding with her, they had a hot time with the old man whenever he got upon his high horse, which was parental authority. What made it worse for him betook to going to bed very early in the evening about this time, and that left the sitting-room with its cheerful fire almost solely to the use of the two young people. There they sat, one evening after another, talking about the moon and looking in among thejblazing coals wuh just as much audacity as if the whole country was in favor ot their loving each other. Strange the old gentleman should overloook this very important proceeding. 1 don’t suppose he ever left the stairdoor ajar, or put his ear out from under the bedclothes to listen. No, I s’pose not. It was February, I think, that saw tre ■ mendous signs of preparation about the Jones’ residence; pies had been baked, pastry prepared, and more than one box of raisins and oranges had been put slyly away upon the shelves of the pantry. I’he old gentleman had become somewhat reconciled to the match, still he blustered out occasionally upon his favorite theme, “ parental authority.” The whole house was against hm, however. Where ever did any one oppose with any sort of success two wonun! Not on the Jones’ p>cmises, that’s certain. All things were made in readiness. The morning dawned, the eventful morning that was to make John and Priscella one; ten o’clock was the hour. When the sun went down that day the friends and relatives had retired with ample supplies of cake and knickknacks. The newly-married pair were sitting again by the fire alone, but this time closer tog ether than ever before, probably. We ave no right to listen to what is said, but for once we will, as it is about the old gentleman : “John, dearest,” began somebody, throwing her arms about the manly form beside her, “ wasn’t it strange that father opposed our marriage ?” The husband made no reply, save to imprint a kiss among the curls that nestled upon her bosom. “ Another thing, John, since ten o’clock, what has made him laugh so f"—Cincinnati limes.