Saturday Evening Mail, Volume 4, Number 6, Terre Haute, Vigo County, 9 August 1873 — Page 6

THERE IS NO UNBELIEF. BY UUZIM TtggK CASE. TTJtrrWWtinWrtlef. Whoever ptautaaseed^^hUw'^ AndwalU to we It^hawayjhe^clod, it fi -J

There is no tinbcIlM.

Whoever «T« when clouU are In the #kVi Be patient, b«artt light br**k«th by and by, Trusts the Mont lllgb.

There i» no nnbellei.

Whoever C* 'neath winter sfleldnofsnow, The silent harvests of the future grow, *ue tiod's power must know,

There Is no unbelief.

Whoever Ilex down on hia eoucli to Bleep, Content* to look each Benoe In clumber deep, itnows God will keep,.

There Is no unbelief.

Whoever tsays "ic-morrow," the unknown, The future, trusts that power alone, lie dare disown.

There 1* no unbelief,

The heart that look* on when dear eye-lld» close And dares to live when life lias only woe*,

ous

Gentleman from Sand Creek.

Br DEAJJE MO.N'AHAS.

Quincy Adams Is a man who baa changed much since I knew him first, ten years ago. The only one thing about hiin which, it seems to inc, remains unchanged, is that which he probably wishes had changed first, towit, the color of his hair. Quincy is a bachelor of tbo genial kind, not at all crusty and cynical, and with gener­

admiration for all women, which does credit to his heart but the reason, as he has informed me, why he had not been able to concentrate the best acts and thoughts of a virtuous and kindly lifo upon one woman, lies in that unfortunate capillary adornment. Honest and clear-headed, with a fair knowlodgo of men and books, ho has still been unsuccessful in bis profession, and knowing no other reason lor it, he thinks it is on account of the outside of his head. Ho wished to live in a city, and lias immured himself in the smallest and poorest of inland villages. His head is his drawback, and has the effect of making him awkward and diflidont among men who aro much bis inferiors In geniality, honesty and general attainments. When he stood at the lioad of his class in college, and was the champion debater of the Union Literary Society, and carried nWay prizes tor declamations of the old Roman sort, his companions reviled him as "tho Gentleman from Sand Creek," and affirmed that If he should sit astride tho top rail of ono of tbe ziezng fences common through all the Pike region, of a sunny morning, the woodpeckers weuld coino and feed him as a fledgeling of their own. One of tho unfortunate circumstances which at tended him there, was tho fact that two or throo others of his companions bore tbe historic naino of Adams, and they had not red beads and when tho question was nskod, "which Adauis?" tbe answer would be, "why, Peckerwood Adams, of course."

After we lost sight of Quiney's radiant head In tho smoke of the great war, ho was almost forgotlon through tho ten years before mentioned. Wo romembered him, it is true, sometimes, as ono whose hat always lacked bar inony with that which it sat upon whose coats wero always of an unbo coming pattorn, no matter when or where purchased, and whose knees seemed to be prominent points of an incongruous tout ensemble. Ten years is a long time, and as tho forty soasons camo and wont with all their thrills and paugs, a thousand faces and ten thousand thoughts had come between. But ono day I looked across the street and studio*! forthe hundredth timethesunshlno loungers, and the gilt signs, and tho statuesque monument of the loading Modoc whostood harmless for many months in front of ft cig.ir shop, with his leaden club uplifted In his hand, and tho leaden tiger at his feet, and suddenly somebody came between. It wns somebody who looked straight to tho front, and swung himself along with tho case of a practiced pedestrian but thero was something wrong with his coat, and something in bad taste about tbe color of his bat, and altogether aomethlng which caused me to rise up and follow Win. And an I followed, tho ardor of the chase grow upon mo, and I rati. There was dimly before me tbe embodied token of all tbe fan I ever had In those rosy days when there wss no duty, no care, no straggle nothing but youth and hope. The thir-ty-seven theorem rose before my eyes, with all Its angular difficulty, and the sweet Virgillaw lines, tho beauty of which lingers with us not alone for their own melody's sake, but because they ro learned in youth, aune into my mind. It was Oniuoy Adams fleebcfnro me, ann I overtook and log paused him, and planted myself Impudently in hi* path. As ho stopped, astonished, there camo into his face the look of a inan accustomed to be put upon, anti his first unconscious movement consisted In feeling the hair upon tho tack part of his head under his hatrim, as questioning if too much exposure of color there had got hi in into Ctrooblo from behind. But soon there came into the lines of his plain, honest face a pleaded expression, and I captured and carried him away, he walking amicably brslde me, concentrating all pleasure and surprise into one expression, 'Well—I declare 1'

But after all ho aeenied to^have not much to re member or talk about. He was as shy as though he had nevet aeon mebeforf. rattled on about everything fcouid think of in the way of names and places, and a bright remembrance of funny scenes seemed to strike him occasionally, but he didn't got an thing fairly said. I coaxed, and plaved upon bit school-boy trlumps, amf be omv lookod i^gretiul and remained anient. Know in* the usual effect at th* wted, 1 oflfewm him a cigar but 1*4 dedtasd ho had not learned to smoke, be sstd. When naked where he Hvcii, he said "at Ureenaburg," and fbrlhtr •tietUoning)©rily revealed tbe fact that it was a vlliatoqf three hundred j*xple t* o»ewbqc* lolowa. Then be remarked thatho wanted to walk, and we let him go, ihinkipg that he only wished to think it alt over, and would come back and talk after a while.

WMffMta dtd return, tho Maystmwet lwhiiro fNfe clooda had burned oot tta htddcHS Vendors, and the lamps were lit In %bo at reel. He mt down and placed his foot upon the window-ledge. Hald be, 'Where's Ilonea

This waa tbe first question he bad asked, and opened an inexhaustible Uieme. •Bones' wss a room-cualo in the old time, amid circumstances worth explaining, He waa so called because be was the the 'end-man* of the party, beglide* being the dally author of a hundred harmless pieces of buftoonery.

When

God'a comfort know#.

There is no unbelief.

And so by lny and night, unconsciously, The heart lives by that faith the Hp* deny, knoweth why.

Th

'pjEpSpigSp ,--1*

The system of socjfal economy under -Which three students live, has been recalled and smiled at thousanda of times by men who seem to have forgotten all else that pertains to youth. It waa in the land of beech-woods, mud, tropical beats and Arctic cold. There waa a large room and a tremendous bed a common table and lamp, and piles of books. In the admirable system organised by us, Adama must out tbd wood, I must carry it, and Bones must make the fires. Such was the law which frequently thrust the latter gentleman out Into the cold and dark of five o^clock of a winter's morning, the compulsory force being two pairs of /aet, applied to tM lumber region of the duty-sbirker. ,,tt ..

A'1"""1

So be went on, telling of tho success or failure of one or another, and con demning tbe trustfulness of women and the faithlessness of men, as exemplified in these familiar instances. The utress he laid upon these things seemed to mo to forcibly suggest himself as

How is it with you,' I said finally. My companion looked at nie curiously and doubtcdly, and seemed to suspect that the question was not asked in good faith.

Don't you know said he

11

have not heard of you for all these years please explain what you seem to lmngine I ought to know.' 'Ah. you must remember her well enough.'

Her?' I replied—'who?' I perceived that Adams had been act ing all this time upon a diffident man's idea of himself. He imagined that his very thoughts were commented upon by others. 'Tell mo all about it.' I said.

Then ho mentioned a name which fell familiarly upon my ears. Thero is a jingle in it wbich had been the source of many a couplet and pun. 'Mary Aireybut so far waa it away, and so dim, that a minute elaspod while hesat with a flush on his face, before I could recall the person to whom the rhyming cognomen belonged. And even then I could not reulember that my friend Adams was In any way more intimate iy connected with a talllsh young woman, with a fair faco and light-gray, peculiar eyes, and large wblto hands, than any of the rest had been.

So she Is tbe one I said. •Yea,—abe If «ny. Bat let me tell you,' and Adauts tore off tho margluof anowapaperand twisted it nervously in hia bands 'abe, If any, lor I'm not certain, after all, I have any right to speak of heraa a man speaks of one who has had much to do with hia life. Even when I sought her company, and hutu around herln an awkward and dumpish sort of way, somebody elae always camo and oarried ber off when they wtahed to. But I'll begin at the beginning. I didn't know ao well what waa the matter with ma then as I know now. A man in thia life Is tho victim of the very first clrcumstancos over which he has no control. I was born in Egypt, in tho very midst of tbe land of tbe Fikes. Awkwardness, peculiarity of person, and a dialect which tbo schools can never cure, were my inheritances. Often, as I plowed corn in tbe bottoms of Sand Creek, I have thought all these things over, before I ever saw ou, or attained half my stature. 1 now I am honest and passably capable, but everybody knows bow better things may come to a man in thla lite than have ever come to roe, and leave still clinging to hiin something to be laughed at. With gifts and graces and polish whiclf will otear tbe closest inspection at nil tlntfli, It is a pity that some men should be thus poo* devils in soul that they really are, but they pass well through tbe world and get most tberels, for all that. When I think of tb« aand Oeek rftfion I'm choked. JkiM&wooda «re no m4re tbe tutors of refinement now ttaau they were when the Indians lived among them. Do yoo know thsre are people in that region worth a hundred thousand dollars, and tbe very fast thus f' wa4 there I saw them nnload their large families by the broken fences of tho country, church yard from old and unpalnted lumber wagons? Some of those old codgers hadoeen wheeled into the purchase of a pdaao for their daughters before I came, and there was still high indignation about it among the neighbora, And thoaegjrlal—-oow you know there ia nothing else In the world so sweet ss a girl, they

Rre

*.V*

-U. 4i

rff.RB.TK-H A1TTR a

here asked the question

these scenes came bnck, aud though replied that I know nothing whatever of Bones, tbe talk went on. He told how he had seen Roberts fall forward on bis face at Chaplain Hills, and how Walters had become an accomplished scoundrel, and had stolen and forged and languished alternately for these many years. His mine of memories was unsealed, and he narrated how McClure and Patterson had become preachers, and the tones in which the former whined and the latter growled in their limited sphere of useiulness He had been back once, he said, and tbe old college-town lay quieter than eyer, with its homely spires and discordant bells, and its phalanx of dear old maids, jiUed years ago by students long lost in the mazes of a larger world than theirs. He described how changed in after years seems the spot in which was written and sung the Idyl of the school-boy. The yellow lamplight shone upon his face as he spoke, and the rain loll in torrents and tricklod down the panes, aud as I looked upon him I thought of the strangeness of the fact that tbe mate of a dingy rodm and a quiet world ten years ago, should appear again amid scones so different, and wondetcd that in his comical garments he brought no smell of wood-violets, and on his face no flush of boyish debate. He seemed older than he ought as ho sat there, and if the world he lived in had been different from tho future of which we once bad dreamed together, I waited until he should tell of it, and of himself. But as the time passed and he still avoided egotism, I was impelled to ask him of his adventures. When he mentioned the mature damsels who had boon so fresh and blooming to him and me a decade ago, he had stopped, and sat thinking, and by and by I said, 'Yon aren't married, Adams?' 'Ob, no,' said he, and looked up quickly. 'This marrying is a curious business,' he presently continued which profound remark I assented to, and he went on. 'You remember Elliot? Yes well ho was a lion with tbe sex there, with his ambrosial locks and wickedness, and lour years after that he was heard of occasionally as beau. But—what do you think he come to at last? He married a blonde doll with whom he quarrels every day. He had better have taken the farmer's daughter who believed in him so steadfastly in the old days.'

A

pretty enough

in calico, if It only fits them, but in Egypt it don't and tboy never know It. They eat with their knives and their fingers, and can catch a colt in a woodspasture, and climb a high fence couch eaaler and much more quickly than you can. One does net like to see a woman too tiompetest in then* things Then, tbey laugh and talk loudJy, and

every acquaintance is an intimate one. You may think I'm bard o% my kith

and kin, but all thia ia true, and they never can rid themselves of their peculiarities. We won't mention the men, but, they are just like me, and none of ua can help it it is born in ns. My name ia Adams it is plain to me that the other families of that name are totally distinct from ours. I understood that my grandfather had a red head, and that, with other things, remains in the blood of this branch of the family. 'Why do you think so?* I asked, somewhat vaguely, at this stage of bis discourse.

Because a family, even a generation, becomes the product of a mere locality. Low-lying fields, sedgy growths, soil rich iti yegetabledepqslts, and tbe mysterious something which produces ague also produces peculiar men and women. Had I been born amid rugged hills, or, better, in a city, I might have been a well-dressed and plausible, if not ft successful man.'

I thought my friend bad lost, or perhaps totally forgotten, what he had started out to narrate. So I recalled him to bis story of something connected with Mary ..

It all belongs together,' he satd. 'Tho reason whv I did not marry—ber, lies, as I have all along thought, in the facts I have Deen narrating. She was a town-girl, j-oi: know, and I was first attracted to her because she seemed to walk so daintily, and because ber hat seemed to suit her complexion, and her dress seemed to hang—is that what they call it?—so nicely. After admiring her at a distance for a long time, I ventured to take her to tho mite society, and afterward to church. I wss twenty yeafrs old then, aud I finally arriyed at tho point of calling upon her in the parlor. She played the piano, whether well or ill, I'm sure I don't quite know. But one thing she sang often—a tune, tbe words of which have been running in my bead ever since. It was new then 'Come rest in this bosom, my own stricken dear,' comprised the first line.'

I smiled when my frieud arrived at this point, for tbe whole sceue came back to me more plaiuly than Adams could have painted it. The largo frame house, the open window, and the voice and the words which came floating out through it and fell upon tbe ears of the

loitering

students who passed by,while

the red boams broke through the forest leaves half a mile away, and touched our faccs with the broken lances of a sunset which, in those regions, nobody ever ftillv saw. A late June aiternoon in a country town the air full of peace and honeysuckle odors remembered now amid a thousand noises and intervening scones, by virtue of the simple melody oi':i worn-out song. Oh, girlish singers! oh, sweet-voiced matrons! if in after j'earsyou would wield again tho soft scepter you onco held, over forgetful lover or grown up son, do but touch him with the songs of his youth. 'And,' continued Adams, again, flushing, 'I usod to think she liked me a little. Many a time have 1 been there when you and Bones thought I was somewhere else. But I was always

afraid

she didn't. Other fellows came

and went, and I never thought of doing aught to binder them. She was just so plHcid always—just so kind. I lent her books, and I'm sure she read them through. Months and mouths passed, and during all the time I canuot recall anything but kindness from her hands. But she thought mo homely and awkward—I know she did—and never said anything particular to her, you know. 1 was afraid to. Well, when the class enlisted, we all left tho town, as you remember,at three o'clock in tbo morning, to catch the train on the railroad twenty miles away. Half an hour before 1 sauntered—sneaked, you might say—past tho house. I wanted to look at it, or at something before wo went away. The samo window was open,and I could dimly seo what I knew must be her figuro sitting by it. I stopped, and I remember thinking It was the boldest thing that I had ever done. To my surprJso she came out and down tho steps, and stood by me inside of the white-washed fence. She did not say one word, nor did I. But I thought— perhaps I'm mistaken—but I thought that in the starlight I could see something like dew In her eyes. She looked not at me, but up the street and after I had been there about a minute, saying nothing, and not knowing what to say, it began to be very awkward. Finallv I said, 'Well, I must go,' or something like that, and sho held out her band to say good-by and the last I saw of her, as I looked back she was standing on the steps, looking, perhaps, after nie "as I went away. But one thing I must'tell you which I hardly noticed at the time,but have often thought of since. As I stood there, sho held the bem of my coat-sleevebetween her thumb and finger as my arm lay upon tbe board. I saw It all tbo time, for the fingers were white and when I moved my arm at ast to go, she did not release it, and the last thing I remember was the little pull I felt at my sleeye.'

Tbeu this adventurer relapsed into sllcaco, with bis head.bent and bis eves away off, pondering, perhaps, for the thousandth time, what there was in that last parting which made bim re* member ft so well. -J

Is that all I said. Nearly but I must tell you thst when we got into camp at Muldraugh's Hill, and each fellow's life was full of the discomforts of new soldiership, and the memories of a life forever forsaken—though we did not then know that—some of them seemed to bare a dim idea of mv fancy, and teased me. •Dye your hair bofore you go back, Quincy,' they said, and that oaused me to know what others thought of mo, in connection with her. So I thought of ber most of the time, but I wrote not a word, and before I wss srwitfaol i* six months were gene, and I knew tbo chances were that 1 was forgotten. You think all tbis very strange? Well, it wasn't I didn't want to make a fool of myself with that girl-I thought I should see her sometime.

Two years afterward I went back. That was bold of me, too, for I h«d neither business nor relatives there then, and hadn't been down to. the farm on Sand Creek yet. I was tired, worn and perpetually hungry. .The village hotel had the best larder aud tbe softest beds I (bought I ever saw. It was st noon that 1 reached there In the vehicle that carried the trl-weekly maiL 1 stayed-In the little dingy room all the afternoon.. My

face

TORD AY EVENING MAlfc AIJftUST 9, 1873.

abut in a quiet village* from the world. Through the tops of the trees which brushed my chamber-windows, I could catcb a glimpse of along white fence, more historic to me, ss I wondered to think, than Pittsburg Ltsuding—yes. because it embroidered the history of uncertainty a story that men peruse oftener than any other In this world. 'While I sat there thinking, and wishing I had not come on my fool's errand at all, I heard voices and laughter almost beneath ray window. Two persons, a man, and a woman In white dress, passed slowly along the narrow walk in front. He was tall, handsome, bearded, with a shoulder-strap upon which I could see the white eagle of his rank. I looked down at my plain blue blouse, and the contrast, as it would appear to a woman, struck me with an additional pang. Him I did not know, but in the face that looked up to his just once. I discovered the placed features of Mary Airey Thoy passed by and I heard their voices as they grew small iu the distance. He best low to the ear, and she looked up into bis face.

Mv friend I knew then that tbo errand "upon which I had come was a foolish one—so foolish, indeed, that I was ashamed that it had ever occurred to me. My name, my appearance and my rank were against me prima facie and this new man, with his good looks and his shoulder-straps, was, in wartime, a crusher. I got away from the place that night, and have nevor returned. Whenever by chancel look into a mirror, I am satisfied with the reason why. I now inform you that when I feel old age creeping on, I shall hail him, with all his rheumatic decreptitude. as a friend :—because there is at least a chanco of my growing

It was niue o'clock. My friend took up his bat aud changed his position into one which indicated departure, aud I perceived that ho had told his story. Nevertheless, I saw around tbe corners of his mouth the same droll expression which he had habitually worn ten years before.

Walt,' said I,'I'll go with you if you will stay ten minutes longer, haven't you any later experience?'

Yes, I have. I think this State of yours, over which I have been wanderiug is ronoarkable for something besides beauty, or prospective wealth, or rapid progress,or political ohlcanery.' llow said I.

4

It is omnium gatherum of all creation. People come here froai the ends of the earth, and, I should judgo, most of them stav and multiply.'

4

That is a fact,' said I but how camo you to know it so well The smile spread wider still over my friend's homely visage. 'Wait till I tell you said he.

4This

defined

foing

afternoon I meta

slow-going wagon in the road. I will describe it all to you minutely, for it was impressed upon my mind. One old horse was gray, and tho other, I should say, lacked a shade of being any

color at all. In point of condi­

tion they were not a great credit to your State's productiveness, and tbe wagon behind them was an uupainted and dilapidated vehicle. Upon a board in front sat a man, driving. He was long, lean, and leaned indolently forward with his elbows upon his knees, and clucked industriously to his team. I might not have noticed all this, but for a peculiarity of his which seldom escapes mo ho had red hair. Something caused me to stop this caravan, and inquire tho way to your town. Something, I say, because I did not need any information of the kind,when I could see your Capitol, or whatover it is, iu the distance. In the short conversation which ensued I perceived that I had met, as it were, my brother for my oar detected, in all its fullnoss and richness, the almost-forgotten dialect of the Pike. In the wagon-box behind, seated in straw, I saw a woman and three small children tho hair on two ot the children was red. Now, I'm

to tell 3'ou something strange. that brief moment of purposeless conversation, my heart warmed to this squatter's wife with a thrill, and the great revelation of my life came to me with a pang, and—too late.'

My friend here took up his hat and approached tbe door, and while I sat listening and wondering, he turned with bis hand on the latch to say:

4

And I know now that I was mistaken as few men are—in an under-estt-mate of myself. I might have had her for tho asking! Good-night!'

Ho Was half way down the stairs when I reached the door I called after bim 'Hold on! Who was she

Up from the depths of rain and darkness on the street camo the answer It was Mary Airey!'

"J* T- BY CHARLES BANAUDI

a

.ww rery brown

sud my bands coarse! Snd when I look* into the cracked mirror against the walk lost heart ag«tn, a»d wondered why 1 had own such fool to cejne WV and tried to Imagine son* other reason than the one aotoally In my heart. I could see from my window tbe on* long, straggling street, with no figure upon it that I recognised, no step. I could distinguish. It was spring again, sod in tbe slant sunshine I coald sfttroely recall tbat misty mornitnr two yetra before. I wondered If the war, that bad changed all things ehee#had waited elsewhere or blighted thedewy scent which used to come at nightfall from the woods thst lay in •ombcr shadow-masses all around* and

Like children, one was afraid, the other dare not. It has been remarked by a certain orator, that "happiness Is like a crow. Levels much of. a feather. It sits In the trco-tops and slngsits song, and all the birds of the foroat are more or less charmed. But, anon It flies to the ground and feeds Itself upon commonplace things. The poets never speak of it! yet love eats—really oats like any other creature. Take away Its dinner, and its a poor spirited bird.

With great wisdom our young man bad apprehended this fact, and though he was a trifle ashamed of it, worked hard that his Itfve might ^ave something to eat. He tolled that he might tempt tbe sby bird to lir® with htm by the offer of a good dinner. ..

Instead of being ashamed, he should have been glad. He was ashamed, and on this f*ct hangs the curious part .or 1 his little love tale. 8be, too. had Bomo worldly wisdom, though she hid it from him. Tho idea of lovebeing dependent on dinners! Vw, and it was not nice to think of It. Therefore she did not.

The RngHsh'of all this is that be waa at work In store trying to win enough money to enable bim to marry har. Very proper in him, to be sore. irtoe isalwavs rewarded, and bis fen hints that If be was good be

had gi -houid be "takeb in." With her hoped-for lore tried bard to tie very, very gowd. But firm suddenly suspended, failed utterly stopped, and tbe poor boy

the and was

»'virtue 'never is rewarded." be said to himself, In d^ppointment lrtue is 1th own reward, only It is hard to see it without a sent in the wmM- The store and hope were locked op the uoi day, and he went to bis lodgings almost broken-hearted.

gloomy prospect, and It was very dark indeed. A poet would hava said that even the stars were blotted from his darkened sky. It was wotsetbSn that, for tho gas was shut off.

She. She is a vexations subject at times. He knew it now, aud was sorrowful. The history ot their love was not remarkable, but Its aspect under the present clrcumstancos was peculiar. They had met at some party, been Introduced, spoke, dsneca, and he bad called, on her Invitation. He called ou ber twice,—-three times—many times. They went to see the pigs together, when tho cattle fair oame round. They had read tbe same books, enjoyed the same flavors of Jessop's caudy, and bad been out to walk together lu the moonlight without their rubbers on. Her father and mother approved, and everything went on as smoothly as Stewart's syrup.

His prospects werq(feood, and she was of a suitable age to know her own mind. It was commonly reported that they ivere engaged. Ills never safe te bolieve reports. Thoy wero not engaged, though they both adored tho same things. However, if they wero not engaged, there was every prospect that they, would be—if nothing happened. Why not He was to be a partner soon, and could support her properly. Something did happeu. The firm wound up. as we have seen.

Uuder these unhappy circumstances, what ought he to ao. He could not even think. He was absolutely without means of support, and the engagement should bo broken off. Engagement!

They

How

v-

Their Engagement.

He was a young man, with a reasonably good education and pleasing presence. An average American of tho city bred sort bHght, active,and very much in lovo with her. ^.

She, pretty and sensible, though trirling and showy on the surface, loved him after a certain shy, unspoken fash-

Both knew it, and had not exchanged word, hardly a look expressive thereand

How or where

be was to win living was a problem.

were'not engaged. Yes,

they were. Had she not accepted flowers from him had they not "sat up," ever so late after everybody had gone to bed, at least a dozen times? Had not ber mother invited him to tea, and had net her father takon off his hat to him in the street? He was the recognized suitor for tbe daughter's hand, and something ought to no done about it.

4

Under bis present circumstances, he ought not to be engaged, to her—he was not and yet It was a delicate question. To solve it was ft sad trial to him. He slept upon it, and awoke tho next day to And that the trial had made a man of him. Trials always bum away the cheap surface, and bring ©t\t the gold within.

He had not told his lovo. Thoy were not engaged. Still—ho had shown her great attentions, and his advances had been received cordially. Under his present circumstances, chivalry and honor forbade further advance. He must cease'to visit her. Ho must leave her free—open to more advantageous offers. Must leave her forevor, aud forget her.

No Ho could not do that. He could go out West, and begin life anew but forget her. Forget her! No! He could not—csuld not. And here ho made a discovery. Ho lovod her. With all her apparent shallowness, she wa? a splendid girl at heart, aud ho loved bor, and must leave her. And how could ho explain or tell her how it was with him.

could ho ask her to wait—wait

for him—perhaps for years. Walt while he searched for a clerkship, that, when obtained,would not support them both. Her father was a man of business, and possessed of some wealth. What would be say'to such folly

Surprised at tho sudden strength of character his trouble had developed, ho took a manly stand and resolved he would call on her, bid her farewell,and leave her with his lovo unsaid. He would suffer alono. Perhaps timo would euro the smurt. T'ooplo said it would, though he did not bolieve It then. Come what might, he would stand no longer in false position. He would seo ber at once.

Not without a furtlvo tear or two, ho arrayed himself In his best and went out in search of breakfast. How Illseeming his present wardrobe aud his poverty. Ho inust leave his costly lodging-place at onca. Ho would begin to economize immediately by buying a cheap breakfast at some restaurant. It was a sad meal the wretched food and dismal saloou woariod him, aud somehow the broad was salt. He crept into a dark corner and rumbled his damp napkin, in a vain eftort to be cheerful. Then bo went out at the strange hour of ten iu the morning to find her home. The streets were full of people hurrying on and on to their business or pleasure. For him there waa neither. He had never been in tho streets at that hour, and they seemed strange and foreign. Her borne was quite at the other side of tbe city, at tbo far endof the horse railroad. How many times be had gone that way. He must walk now. The cars passed on empty in endless procession, In a way he had not noticed before. He would not hurry, for it was such an unreasonable hour to call.

Ho paused to look In a print store. There was a picture hanging there representing a family gathered in homely comfort round a simple meal in some Scottish hut. Semi-poverty in every line of the engraving but there was also love and peace, children and happines*. Ho gazed long and earnestly at it. Love and want. Somehow tboy wero not friendly except in pictures. The picture waa a lie, and yet it was true. Love is greater than poverty. A policeman said: "Move on, move on," and hustled by the

crowd,

She

be was com­

pelled to return to bis present sorrow. With a heavy heart ho took up his cross and bis way at the same time. He would be a man, at any rate, and see it tbrODKh, whatever happened, refusing to look to the right or leit, he went steadily on, and presently, with a boating beart and nervous flngors, rang her a

herself opened the door to bim. Smiling, clad in simple morning suit, and, as if to add to bis sorro w, full of winsome merriment and gaiety. She asked him into the parlor, thatsbe was lust then flirting a feather duster through, snd they both sat down in the flecks of sunshine and shadow behind tbe group of window plant*.

Alter sorao commonplaces she said "See! The slip of geranium I cut from the boqtret you gave me. It has rooted already. I'm glad. It will make ante* plant—« remembrance of tbe flowers."

He smiled faintly, and pretended to be interested. Somehow bis thoughts would wander to something else. For a moment be was ailent, and sbesaid that be was not very amusing and that she should return to ber dnsting.

But he bad a Story to tell ber. A story I NOW that was worthwhile. She eat down In a low chair before him, arranged ber drapery as prettily as possible, and said,

Begin, plea*©. I'll be gHd." He bad a orilllant Idea. He would tell his whole storj oy^tivwly. and see what she said to it. He would sketch his own case, and while protending to arouse ber, draw from her manner and

answers

sonrie blnt of what

he bad best do. If she took it aa mere fiction, no barm would come of it, and be could depart with a clear conscience.

What If she took it as troth .. abe saw through tbo pretence That waa not very likely, and—yet—if she—

She was impatient. Tbe story, please—if you have not fallen asloep. Poor boy! ffe bas to work so hard." v*

He began. Once upon a time there was a young man—" & I'

How interestingl""""".".'. I say there was a young man, and he fell very much in loye with a youug lar—girl—"

Girl is better." Please don't." Pardon mo. Goon."^*,' With an effort be resumed, while hts oyes began to grow very bright. She noticed It in silence.

Ho loved her very much, though he oould not toll whether she returned his love or not. Ho had not made—how shall I express It? There had been no overt act."

Had not proposed—you mean." Yes, and for a most excellent reason. His business prospects did not warrant it. Though everything waa smiling and cheerful, still he thought it best to watt till certain events of a financial nature took place."

Couldn't support ber? Very proper In him to wait." He winced under this, and with an effort continued tho story.

He expected a promotion, and hoped that when it came be should be in a position to marry."

How very nice!" And she smiled In a peculiar way that puzzled bim. With some hesitation be wont on. "Well, just as everything seemed at its best it—It—everything broke down." "How sad. I don't like tho story. Tell me something that's pretty and nice."

This was the most cruel blow of all. He at onco froze up. She was a shallow, heartless tbiug, unworthy of his love, and he fell to thinking how he had been deceived.

She'satthe while in calm silence toying with her leather duster, and inwardly harrassed by a storm of conflicting emotions. Love, doubt,sorrow and a great happiness struggled for ex-

B[e

ression. She glanced shyly at him. seemed crushed by a great sorrow. His lingers were nervous, aud the lids shading his eyes moved quickly, as if to keep something back.

A dreadful pain shot through nor

heart,

aud sho pressed her hand upon

her breast to deaden It. O In a constrained voice sho said, "Is that all?"

Ho stared abruptly and said, Yes no." lie brightened up, and said, 'Thero is no more. It ia a story about a friond of mino, and I want to know what you think he ought to do. He cannot propose, because it is not chivalrous to ask her to wait. And yet he ought not to leave her without an explanation. An explanation would bo an avowal—a proposal. Now what should bo do?*

With feminine porvorslty, she avoided tho question by asking another. "Doos sho lovo bim •'I do not know."

With a sudden Impulse, she s»kl, Has he told her?" lie was quite dlsconcorted by this bold thrust, and was sclent. She hold her hand over her inouth to keep her face smooth. Tears and a great joy struggled to roach the surface.

How can I tell—yet—" Here be lookod her full in the face. Their eyes met, and ho said slowly

I think ho lias." Sho rose abruptly, and bogan hastily to dust the books on tho table. 1 ho flght lu her hoart waxed hot. Love and maidenly reservo struggled for tho mastery. Ho, with a curious blindness, mistook it all, and thinking her the most mercenary and heartless girl ho had ovor met, rose, took ills hat, and said ho must go.

She turned upon bim quickly. "Go! Go where?" Excuse me. Did you know that I intended to go Wost?

No. How should I Do you return soon?" No. Perhaps not for years."

Indeed Oh! I think I understand. I saw In the papers that your employers had failed. A hard experience lor them. I suppose you go West in search of new business?"

She did not know how she said It, for her heart seomed quite dead within

hHostiffly held out his hand as if to bid hor a formal good-byo. She took It timidly, and said. "Is it good-morning or

Rood-bye?

Ho hesitated. It is good—" ... Bofore he could flnlsh, she said, with her face turned away, "I wish I know if that story was true or not

It is a true story:" Somehow bor flngors tightened around bis, and she drew near to him. Sho prossed back her hair from behind her ears with her free band, and said merrliy,

Not chivalrous to ask ber to wait. Love and modosty bad fought bard, silent. Then she camo to him, and nutting a band on each shoulder, looked into bis faco without fear, and sa d,

Not chivalrous to ask her te wait. Not a word more. He looked down npon her fair face. Tears wero lurking in her eyes, and her lips quivered.

Lovo victorious. Within a year they wero married. Thoy were engaged In all his poverty. She was true woman, and ho won tbo good fight of this life through her encouragement. Had she dlstainod his povorty, he would have been a failure.

Love Is ever victorious.

Si!«qur,AK

PEPHAVITY.—Aletter

from

Greenville, Tenn., says: The cholera at Greenville bas developed a few'cases of monstrous depravity, ono of which I will relate without mentioning names. An old gentleman, probably near se\ enty years of age, who lived a two In tbo country, and Is

hl*

recklessness and utter defiance of the laws of God, came into town one day and passing down the crle^ out that be Intended to spread the cbolera over tbo town. He tben went to an undertaker and wanted to know if bo could make bim a coffin and what bo would charge. The reply was that if he wanted it beloro his death he would charge him twenty-five dollars, but if after he would charge only fourteen dollars. Ho told bim to proceed with tho matter, but to bo sure to mako It out of two-inch plank and leave it open at both ends, so that if tbe devil camo In at. one end be could escape at tbe other. That night be was stricken down with the cbolera, «ind b^ morqijng was a corpse.

"J ,.r _»„

WHB!t

you see a man who is hasten

Ing across a street to avoid a team, step on apiece of mud, and lose his balance, and come to tbe earth, and tear the skin from both his wrists, and smash bis hesd against a post, you want to shout as qutckly as possible: "Tho more hsste tbe 1MSspeed." Then you ,want to get out of that neighborhood like lightning.