Newspaper Page Text
By ALAN MuTR.
Author of "Vanity Hardware, ? "Golden
LADY BEAUTY S MOTHER.
DARKNESS IN BEAUTY'S ABSENCE.
For the room had grown darker to a cer
tainty. No doubt glass and silver shono as
clearly as before, the damask was as white,
the bloom of the flowers as rich, and the min
gled lights?sunlight straight from off the
green lawn outside, and lamplight just com
ing into radiance on the dinner table?had
not lost b. i htness by one ray. And yet the
room was . .-ken Everybody felt that I
6poke It al-.'Ud, and we all looked round the
table and the walls, and confessed that the
room was several shades darker.
"It always is darker," whispered an old
gentleman at my side, "when Lady Beauty
leaves the room?always!"
There wer? six other men at the table; but
as wo spoke two of these fell into discussion
upon the old. themo of Tory and Whig. Two
more?parsons?struck off into some conver
sation about "high" and -"low." How the
third pair employed themselves I forget, but
they did not join our conversation. Plainly
the elderly gentleman and myself were to
start a dialogue of our own; and as plainly
we should neither be interrupted nor over
beard. I did not know my companion's name;
but his fine figure and bis cheerful face had
already made me feel an interest in him, and
I resolved to keep up the talk which he had
bo pleasantly begun.
"Who may Lady Beauty be?" I asked.
ttYou are a stranger here," replied the old
man, with a smilo which pleased me more
I confessed it
"Or you would know who Lady Beauty ia
Her praiso ia on everybody's hps."
"But," I said, "generally I pay every lady
In a room the tribute of at least one look;
and?and?I did not notice a young woman
here this evening."
"I said nothing about a young woman,"
my friend continued, with a vivacity which
gleamed in las eyes and carved scores of hu
morous little wrinkles round the corners of
his mouth. "Lady Beaut}* is not young?by
the almanac, that is."
"Then who can she bo?" I reflected "Not
surely that spare aggressive-looking woman
that sat between you and mo and talked of
female suffrage and the higher education of
My old friend laughed with great relish.
"That is her eldest sister."
"Well, surely not that tall, artificial-look
ing old maid?is she an old maid, by the
way??who had such a fine outline and such
a suspicious bloom upon her cheeks?"
"No, not her; that is the second sister," the
old gentleman answered, with another laugh.
"A widow, loo, my young friend"
"I have it!" cried I, slapping the table a lit
tle ia my excitement, so that the Whig and
Tory glanced up, but seeing it was notning,
resumed their argument "It was that lady
in black, with the silver hair, neither stout
nor slim, who spoke so clear and low, and
seemed to keep everybody in good humor
dbout her. Pit}-1 sat so far away! I was
envying the peoplo near her all dinner time.
Am I righti''
"You arc," ho answered. "That was Lady
Beauty; and when sho left the table she did
take some light away with her. You thought
you were making a gallant sort of joko ap
plied to the sex generally; but you spoke
more troth than you fancied. Tho room was
darker when she left Darker to me it al
ways is," and my old friend breathed a sigh,
which interested me more than ever.
"I did not know it was she who carried the
light away," I said "I had scarcely noticed
"There Is her praise," tho old gentleman
answered, warmly. "She does not force her
self upon you.- And I dare say many days
you don't look at the sun; but when sunset
comes you miss him none the less."
By such pleasant, paths we entered into a
conversation. My friend told me many
things about "Lady Beauty," to' which I
listened with an attention which pleased him
greatly; so much that, when we were about
to leave the table, he took mo gently by the
sleeve, and said that, if I had nothing better
to do that night, and liked a chat and a
cigar, and would accept a seat in his car
riage, he would tell me all the story of Lady
Beauty. I was too much interested in him
self and his narrative to say no; and the
6tory, *o commenced, and continued on
several subsequent evenings, I have hero re
corded without any attempt at art, just in
the simple way I heard it I offer it here for
the acceptance, amusement and instruction
of that portion of creation who, ns they are
tho fountain of life and its best prize, may,
by the use of the gifts God has so choicely
bestowed up*n them, be not alone the orna
ment, but the joy of the men they love. In
which high nrt I respectfully ask them to
learn a lesson from "Lady Beauty."
"MRS. BARBARA TEMPLE?THE MISSES TEM
Something like forty years ngo there fell
vacant at tho ot'ier end of this town a largo
house with a specious and splendid garden.
Its original proprietor had lived in it for sixty
years, and being a niau of great wealth and
fine taste he had transformed what was once
a comfortable family residence into a mansion,
filled with all luxuries, and surrounded with
green houses, hot houses, vineries, stables,
coach bouses and all the other appurtenances of
a grand Louse. Ilo died, and his hundreds of
thousands ran off in a golden river of good
luck to a nephew in the north of England,
who had his own estate. Immediately the
question was askuc in our little provincial set:
"Who will take the Beeches?" for by that
simple name tho mansion was known. Every
body was afraid of the Beeches; afraid of its
gilded rooms, its noble balls, its green houses,
hot house;;, vineries, stabius and coach bouses
aforesaid; afraid of its splendid traditions,
gone, we felt, never to return; afraid of com
parison with the former owner?a |xx>r sickly
shadow in later days, but even then such a
lord at the head of his table, such a judge of
wines, so plentiful with his choice vintages,
too; sue;; nn expert in gardeners and eooks,
as our town of Kcttlewell never saw before,
and was never likely to see again. So the
great bouse j-t<..'?.l vui-uut month after month,
and year after year, haunted by no ghosts ex
cept memories of magnificence, which <1M in
deed seem to g'idi through the vast dump
rooms, down the wide stairs, or through the
noble gardens, now returning to wilderness
season bv season. Ev< rybody was afraid of
the Beeches. We all said, "The Beit-hos will
never let again."
Let it diil, however. There came a littIn
lady otv day. rreet. commanding in h"r
manner and rich In her attire. She asked to
see the bouse. She went from room to room,
and marked with approving eye how glorious
was the place; and sharply she inquired or
the agent if there was .n.y reason why the
house had not let, except tue alleged one of its
extraordinary grrnleur. He assured h?;r
that there was none. At this she broke into
a little laugh, which meant, "Kcttlewcll peo
ple must be fools." "What rooms for dancing!"
she ejaculated. "What .staircases, up and
down!" And then she set her own dapper
figure in one of the glasses of the console
tables, and murmured, "Admirable, ad
mirable taste!" "I shall t?ke this house,"
she said aloud, as she set her foot on the
threshold. And as she -n^nt from room to
room she kept repeating, "I shall take this
house." "Bedroom," "dressing room," "morn
big room," library," "boudoir," "servants'
hall." With such words of assignment ou her
hps she went about, and the wholo mansion
was allotted to separate uses when she had
completed her inspecting tour. She caino
back into the empty dining room, and the
young man who, full of awe, had followed her
round the house, heard her say to herself, "0,
what a room for a dance!" Then he, going
out on some errand, and suddenly returning,
saw the little dfune step down the empty floor j
in some formal dance, most mystic in his eyes. !
and bowing with aristocratic grace to some j
invisiblo partner. The young man recalled I
his own hops at the citizens' ball, and won
dered what this grave measure could be. But
the little lady pulled up all of a sudden, with
a whistle of hor silks, and repeated for tho
fiftieth time, "I shall take this house."
"Mrs. Barbara Temple," was her reply I
when tho agent asked her name. She do- j
livered it with decided emphasis, as if tho
syllables might be pondered; and forthwith
?he gave orders for many things to be done to ;
the houso and grounds, saying that she would
come in next month. You may be sure we j
were all alivo with curiosity to know every
thing about Mrs. Barbara Templo. Sho \
turned out to be a widow?a ?widow for tho
BOOOnd time, wo heard?and with three j
daughters. She had first married an old man
of vast wealth, who died when she was two
Mid-twenty, leaving hor with no children and j
a great fortune settled on her. Next, to
avenge herself for the privations oi her first j
marriage, she allied herself to a young ensign
of twenty-five, haudsome and penmless.
With him she lived happily for seven years, j
during which time she gave birth to three ',
daughters. Then the young officer died; and I
so, having got a fortune by the first busband
and a family by the second, Mi-s. Barbara !
Temple was now making ready to lead the
remainder of her life according to her own
The family came into residence on the last
Friday in April, 1S58. Nothing was seen of
them, you may guess, on Saturday, and
everybody was on tiptoe expectation for
their entry into the parish church on Sunday
morning. Thither they came, regularly
enough, like good worshipers, having, by tho
way, spoiled tho worship of everybody be
side. First comes my little dame, natty and
brisk, and with something in her movements |
that almost made you fancy she must be a |
puppet animated by enchantment. Sillo, j
feathers of tho rarest sort, a fan?tho weather
being hot?and her frame braced up into |
such erectness, that each of her inches was j
worth two; so Mrs. Barbara Temple walked I
into church. There was spirit in tho eyo |
which went round the building, not with un- j
pleasing boldness, but with most unmistaka- I
ble courage. There was a vigor in her step
which told of a good constitution, and she
held her fan in a way that signified temper.
Indeed, when the pow-opencr blundci-ed over
the latch of the door, and kept h'-r waiting in
the aisle, she dealt one glance at the woman
?one only?but what a rebuke was in it! At
sight of the dash, old Sparkins. the doctor,
who bad been watching the new-comer i
rather obtrusively, was struck with fear fViat j
he might catch the next; anil ho dropped into
?his prayer book liko a bird shot in mid air, j
trying to look as if he had ifeen nothing since
Threo daughters camo behind The first
Impression they gavo us was of a profusion
of rich dress, chosen and worn with tasto
which was simply faultless. The next im
pression was of tallness of figure, the more
conspicuous for the tiny damo who led tho
way. The third impression was of beauty,
set out in style and fashion such as our littlo
town could not rival; and we did not think
ourselves provincial in any but the geograph
ical sense. After this, we had time to
judge and praise the beauties girl by girl.
Girl the first, walked with a mincing step,
and a toss of her hi?ad which, though strictly
within tlie limits of good breeding, was
noticeable and significant. Clever she looked,
too, and her eyes were clear gray, eyes that
could search you?and did search you?read
ing your face with great rapidity and appre
hension. She was the most striking figure of
the three, being very tall, and with splendid
shoulders. Hor face, it is true, would not
bear much looking into; and had you taken it
feature by feature, as tho children were
taught to break tho fagot in the fable, you
might have proved it a jxx>r face enough.
But taken in its wholeness, and set upon that
superb bust, it was a faco which I should not
have recommended a young fellow to gaze at
too long unless he meant matrimony. And
then her dress?her dress! O, never tell mo
that a woman cannot double?treble?her
looks if she has money in her pocket and tasto
in her eye!
But the next was prettier; indeed, pretty
was not the word appropriate to a woman
who was unquestionably handsome,who knew |
her beauty and was proud of it. The second j
Miss Temple hail a nose of most exquisite
shape, large melting eyes of gray, ready to
turn blue, and she hail a lovely mouth, per- |
haps with a little too much of the chisel about I
it, too finely finished, wanting in expression,
and with a slight hint of disdain carved on its j
fine corners. Beauty, professed beauty, con- !
fessed beauty, and clad to disti nction: so she '
glided into her pew, and we had time to con- I
sider girl the third.
Girl the third! Shall I ever forget her face, j
then in the first sweet flush of youth! Shall I ,
ever forget lite light that shone in those deep ;
serious eyes!?the thousand possibilities of
tender or delicate expression that seemed to
hover around that mouth, ready to alight and
unfold themselves whenever summoned! 1
had been thinking a thousand frivolous and I
misplaced thoughts, but something in
this face restored me by the most de
lightful of recalls to the mood of a
worshiper. Never, never, outside heaven,
shall I see such a fuee a^ain. It. was like the
dream of a painter, and he a painter whose
fancy had drunk of some celestial sin am of
feeling and idea, until iie had cutight on his
canvas a fuee which had ill it nil that could I
bo heavenly in a thing of earth, and all that,
could be earthly ill a thing of heaven.
Laugh not at me, neither call me irreverent,
if I say that one could have fancied bei'some
painted .Madonna descending from the walls
of n church, taking human form, and wear
ing modern vesture. On this girl vesture
gave you UO hint of fashion: her counte
nance cLbciX'dlizeil her attire, s,i thai si).'
might have been wearing an angel's floating
drapery instead of the ia.^t Paris fashion.
But- ! sir you mh? ?: r.utl N not every rare
emotion bound to hide ir>. If, le.st, being seen,
it should be ridiculed for eccentricity*
Tho...> eyes could shine with earthly or
heavenly love. In each ease jt would be love
deep, pure, intense, with not a thought of
evil ou it j white and living page. That|
mouth could kiss a-- daughter, or mistress, or
mother, and which kiss would be sweetest i
who could foretell from one who seemed tit tQ j
I perform every womanly duty in the most
I womanly way? In her look there was some
I thing neither of age nor youth, but of what I
should try to describe as fullness: the me
1 ritUan of the nature when tho early and the
, later sentiments meet, in equal strength, tho
i simplicity of youth, the gravencss of serious
j life. She was fair, and her hair light brown;
; and I saw a trace of a little foot as she turned
i Into her pew. But when sho knelt and cov
j ered her face, I did the same quite uncon
sciously. It seemed right after the vision of
THE PORTRAIT OF A LADY. .
i That week everybody called upon the Tem
ples. The universal impression was favor
able, and we all rejoiced over so vivacious an
addition to oar society, and already the ques
tion was flying from lip to lip among tho
ladies: "Whom will the Misses Temple
; marry?" That on tho grounds of social posi
? tion and education the new comers would
! stand high amongst us was not doubted for a
: moment, while their easy fortune was pro
: claimed by their dress, tho furniture of their
house and their manner of life generally.
Each successive visitor had something now to
telL One remarked bow finely tho furniture
and ornaments were fancied. Another
marked tho glories of tho harp and the piano.
"The pictures are lovely," said a third; "not a
poor one on the walls!" And carpets, and oil
cloths and the coloring of tho walls came in for
commendation in duo course. All of us were
delighted with the lively conversation of the
girls, and we marveled unanimously at Mrs.
Temple's wide knowledge of the world and
the briskness with which sho uttered it Ner
was one of these praises undeserved. The
drawing room of the Temples was a charm
ing contrast to most of thoeo around. Ease,
cultivation, liveliness, whatever is choic-st in
social intercourse, seemed to pervade the very
air and you felt as you ontcred the room that
you had passed into a region where refine
ment reigned supreme. The Temples were,
somehow, above us all. Wo felt it, and with
increasing diffidence, as we realised our in
feriority, was tho question asked, "Whom
will the Misses Temple marry f"
MRS. BARBARA TEMPLE.
But old Sparking, who was our shrewdest
head by a long way, hearing this question
asked at Miss Whiffln's house one afternoon,
remarked, with a comical face to fix our at
tention, that we had not disposed of tho
mother j-et. Surprising that so natural a
thought had not suggested itself before! Mrs.
Temple, as we understood, had l>een married
very early, and our most competent female
critics declared that sho could not be more
than forty-five, or, rather, I should say, they
put it that she could not be leas. We had
Doveral widows and spinsters qf ripe years,
and thoso agreed that forty-five was still a
marrying age; indeed, some of the ladies de
clared that it was the best time of all?
an opinion in which Sparking con
curred with much vehemence i?jitl solem
nity, only the old fellow was caught
winking slyly at a confidential friend
immediately after, which aroused some sus
picion. That Mrs. Barbara Temple might be
married before any of her daughters, that
she was yet an attractive and marrying
woman, we all admitted. There was that in
her manner with men which told that sho had
not yet abandoned either the hope or the
methods of conquest; and it was plain to us
all that less likely women are married every
day of tho year. Besides, tho fortune was
hers?absolutely?as we had discovered on
undoubted testimony; and since the fortune
could not be less than three thousand a year,
we began to see that for tho present it was
Mrs. Temple, not her daughters, who was
likely to be tho prizo in our next matrimonial
race. So, having settled this hi our minds
wo proceeded liko rational beings to choose a
husband for the animated widow; and with
scarcely a dissentient opinion, we came to
the conclusion that our rector, the Rov. An
thony Brent, would Imj tho happy man. Wo
were not altogether wrong in this conjecture,
as my story shall disclose. But Mr. Brent
does not emerge on our historic page at
Let me tell you here that, in the course of a
long lifo, I have never met a woman who
could match Mrs. Barbara Temple. Cleverer
women, handsomer women, wittier women I
have met in scores; but the secret of Mrs.
Barbara Temple was her utter and hearty
love of this present world. Of this present
world she was, I believe, tho sincerest and
most unquestioning worshiper that ever lived.
She put no strain upon herself to become what
she was; she quenched no aspiration and re
pressed no misgiving. World!iness woo the
simple honest expression of her natural dis
position and her judgment on affairs. Never
religious devotee was so completely inclosed
in a creed as she. For, indeed, it was a creed,
and a life, too, and Mrs. Barlmra Temple
loved the world just as a flower loves sunlight;
she obeyed a law of her own nature. But tho
cheerfulness with which she obeyed it: her I
unquestioning faith in the power of the I
world to satisfy every want; the absence of!
suspicion that then- could be any higher:
motive in life, or, indeed, any other motive!
at all, anil the cheerfulness and alacrity with
which she followed out her convictions,
made her of necessity a vigorous and original
character. All that make-, what such peoplo
call "the world" she longed for and prized, i
Accomplishments, money, taste, health, tho
good opinion of society, these, and a thous
and kindred matters, sho regarded as sever
ally constituents of happiness, to bu sought
with the utmost solicitude every hour of tin
day. She was grateful t<> the world for
being what it was to her?an ever-running
fountain of desire or pleasure.
Have 1 sufficiently sketched her figure?
Will a few strokes more make her a clearer
image in your mind's eye; She was short, as
1 have said, trimly built, perhaps a t rifle too
stout, but that might be disputed. Her nose
was rather large, but finely cut. like her sec
ond daughter's, und she dressed her brown ,
hair in short ringlets, which well suited tho
stylo of her face. Her color was good and
lti.Lcli enough to make |icople ask questions,
and tier eyebrows wero not five rrom sus
picious traci-s of making up. Her dress was
always rich rind admirably d t-. her
figure ami years; for.she was careful to look
full forty-live, sie- avoided nil nbsunl all'ee
tation of youth, and although .! kind of
sprightly dancing step, which she often fell
into, might have seemed rather a fault in tin*
direction, most of us considered this gait noth
ing but surplus vitality acting on n frame sei
light and plump that it seemed made to skip,
or bound like a ball
FIFTY AND FORTV-FTVE.
Our little town of Kettlewoll had inhab
itant to the number of ten thousand, and
three churches; but of these latter, two were
what at that date were called district
churches, and the great ancient parish church
was the ecclesiastical center of tho town.
Like many another such noble structure, it
was but poorly endowed, and the rewards
which it offered to its minister were chiefly
tho contemplation of venerable architecture,
and a social position of considerable import
ance. The saying always was that none but
a man of fortune could be rector of. Kettle
well. Consequently, at each vacancy tho
bishop was in a difficulty. Rich men he could
find, ablo men he could find; but to find one
rich'and able, too, was not so easy, and at the
last appointment, being unable to meet with
a clergymai. thus doubly qualified ho had
chosen a wealthy parson of rather meager
abilities, who was now our spiritual
chief. The Rev. Anthony Bront was a
cheerful man, undersized, with a merry nose
of ruby, and a countenance donoting neither
deep learning nor that isolation of character
which is natural in men who live above the
world. Indeed, Mr. Brent did not live, nor
affect ' live, ono inch above the level of
commonplace cheerful life. Ho told us from
his puipit that human things aro frail and
nothing worth, and that man is full of misery;
but having folded up his sermon, he seemed
to have folded up his theology too, for when
you met him on week days he was full of
comfort and good cheer. Perhaps we are
fastidious people; perhaps wo are ignorant;
certain it is that we never could quite satisfy
ourselves that Mr. Brent was altogether a
gentleman. His manners were no better than
a blithe lissom creature such as he might have
picked up in ten years between twenfcy-flvo
and thirty-fivo. Ho had a way of alluding to
"my gardener" and "my banker" which
seemed to show, so Sparking said?Mr. Brent
employed tho rival practitioner?that some
time in his life he had neither bank nor
garden. It is very possible that had no
not been so good natured, his vul
garity might have been obvious, v*lch it
never was; for, indeed, we could not be quite
sure that ho was vulgar at all. Another thing
puzzled us; where had his fortune come from?
He was very wealthy and a widower, and our
idea was that Mrs. Brent had brought the
money. This, too, was guess, and nothing
but guess. Such, then, was our rector; a
man liked, but not greatly respected, and yet
a man whom none could condemn or fairly
despise; a shallow man, equal to reading his
newspaper, and no more; on good terms with
the world, ablo without any strain of con
science to preach saintly sermons, copied out
from standard divines, and nt tho some time
livo an easy average life; a comfortable man,
witbjiood intentions, sound digestion, a full
purse and cellar, and one who never let his
kitchen chimney freeze.
It was tho reverend widower Brent whom
we upon consideration had assigned to our
lively Mrs. BarbaraTemploas third husband;
and events went rapidly to show that our
forecast was not inexact. Mr. Brent was
about fifty; Mrs. Barbara Templo was well
known to be about forty-five; so that on tho
score of age there was nothing against the
match; and as to inclination, tho rector soon
mado it evident that there was no obstacle on
his side. Everybody remarked that he took
tho Temples up with remarkable warmth.
Ho gave dainty little lunches and snug little
dinners for them; and ho was forever calling
hi Hv carriage to take one or other of the
girls a drive, the littlo mother attending as
chaperon. At first we were in doubt as to
which Jio TVtts pursuing?mother or daughters;
and^ve even thought that grave Sophia, with
herflifinpuily face, had attracted him; but
wo '"^Sgo't that ho wax a man of somo
common sense. Mrs. Templo was his choice;
her vivacity, hor polis-h, her knowledge of the
world, her untiring energy, were all after his
own" heart. He soon began to drop hints, as
men do who have matrimony in their heads.
"Mrs. Temple was a remarkably fine woman."
"Forty-five was tho exact ago that tho wifo of
a man of flftj' should be?tho exact age."
"Mrs. Temple did not look forty-five" (ho ad
mitted that), "but"?and he would drop his
voice?"ho know she was every day of it"
The intimation was that ho had either seen
the register of her baptism or she had told
him tho fact direct, and ho declared ovor and
over again, with amusing earnestness and pub
licity, that forty-flvo was the age ho approved
of; that for a man of his Btandlng one year
younger would bo ono year too young, and
ono year older ono yoar too old. Of course,
po far ho had not said that ho hoped or wished
to marry Mrs. Temple, but the drift of his
conversation and conduct was unmistakable.
In tho meantimo it was evidont that the
lively widow did not disliko attentions which
had now becomo so marked that even those
saw them who could soo nothing. Sho ex
changed compliments froely with tho rector,
invited him to her house, praised his ser
mons, and she was actually found one even
ing at a missionary meeting over which ho
presided. She listened to his speech with the
utmost attention, sitting erect, and keeping
her eyes fixed upon him, although it would
have been hard to say whether sho knew or
cared less about the subject. She could not
have told in which continent tho district
spoken of lay, nor whethor the people
were white, brown or black; but
sho listened as attentively as if sho
hud been hearinp; of dear relations in a
far-off land. In short, with garden parties
and lunches and dinners and drives, things
went so fur that we all considered the matter
settled; and whon we heard that no proposals
had yet l>eca made, we all agreed that there
must be a tacit engagement, which, for somo
private reasons, was not just yet to bo avowed.
To all intents and purposes, we regarded Mrs.
Temple and Mr. Brent as affianced; and, on
the whole, we approved of our rector's choice.
Certainly we should have liked a lady moro
interested in religious affairs; but then, wo
argued, it was much bettor than if he had
married a young woman. So, balancing
matters, we accepted the event with satisfac
The rector was in ecstasies. He was in Ids
('lenient, dancing attendance on these four
brilliant women; ami really a careless ob
server might have been puz/.led to tell which
of the four he was pursuing. lu the most
polished of huts, the newest of suit-., (ho most
faultless lavender gloves, ami looking all
over a comfortable ecclesiastic, he would Hit
around them, glowing and beaming with
satisfaction. The girls, for their part, ac
cepted his civilities with charming freedom;
ami their mother?shrewd woman?never
manifested the smallest jealousy. In this,
besido proving her own good sense, she paid
hor admirer a compliment which he fully de
served ; for he looked tijK>n tho three girls as
daughters already, and was fond of them in
the most parental fashion.
"Ah. Mis. Temple,"' he said one day. when
he was getting hot, as the children say in
their hide-and-seek game. "I have but ono
child - a s r.. ;l d.'ar good fellow, away in
Australia. 1 always longed for ?Inti^lin-rs."
Whereupon Mrs. Barbara Temple turned
f?ll upon him one of her kern Inoln, irhieh
said: "I understand," but a good humored
look all the time; and then she broke into a
little bland laugh and made herself more
comfortable in her seat, for they were driv
ing. The rector was just going t<> propose
then and there; but it happened that the car
riage, speeding down the dusty road, mcl the
curate, who was footing it home from some
rcniote part of the parish, where he had been
visiting a sick old woman. He signaled tne
carriage to stop and addressed the rector:
"Old Spearman is dying," he said.
"Poor Hannah Spearman!" the rector re
plied, shaking his head. "I have known her
many years. Poor Hannah Spearman!"
"Polly," tho curate remarked?"Polly
"Of course, it is Polly," the rector rejoined.
"In visiting about a parish like mine"?ho
turned to Mrs. Temple?"one's head gets so
full of Follies and Sallies and Billies that one
is apt to take the name that comes first. I
am sorry for poor Han?Polly. But what
can you do in a case of natural decay?"
" It is not natural decay," the curate
answered, with a waggish dryness in his
manner. "Shy fell down stairs."
"To l>e sure she fell down stairs!" little Mr.
Brent cried, reproving his faulty memory by
a gesture of his gloved hand. "How camo I
to confound the two?complaints?"
"Perhaps because you are suffering from a
third," roto rtod tho curate. Ho loved a joke
and had before this brokei a jest on his own
bishop. And our rector was a temptiug ob
ject, being not apt to take offense, and uol
one to inspire great respect or fear.
The carriage drove on: but for once little
Mr. Brent was downright angry.
"Rather an impertinent speech," he oakl,
glancing diffidently at Mrs. Temple.
"Impertinent!" cried easy-humored Mrs.
Temple. "Nothing of the sort"
"Milligan has no sense of propriety."
She gavo a little laugh.
"I like Mr. Milligan."
At this Mr. Brent took heart, changed his
view of the matter, reddened with pleasure,
and gave himself up to laughter, which lasted
until the tears were chasing each other down
his rosy cheeks. But somehow tho proposal
was not made that day.
VANITY CAN VANQUISH LOVE.
The following morning Mr. Brent received
a letter from his son in Australia, announc
ing his intention of returning to England for
a few months. The reason of this return the
letter went on to furnish. The son said he
feared his fathor would think him very
foolish; hut love was bringing him home, and
here was the worst of the matter?love under
very peculiar circumstances. He had fallen
in love with?a picture! He had seen tho
portrait of a girl whoso face had impressed
him as never the living face of any woman
had, and having ascertained that the original
of the picture really lived, and was English,
and not a duchess or a princess, which well
she might be, but a girl of his own rank in
life, young Brent was determined to find her
out and try to secure her for himself. Tho
letter wound up in very ingenuous language,
admitting tho apparent absurdity of tho
whole proceeding; but protesting that the pas
sion was true and deep, and that nothing
could end it except realization or absolute
and ascertained' hopelessness.
Rector Brent was a good natured man and
a kind father; so ho shook Ids head and
smiled over his son's folly, being a sago him
self. But he wrote a kind reply, saying
that his son would bo always wclcomo homo
under any conceivablo circumstances, and
that though ho must confess tho expedition
seemed rather wild, yet he well knew that in
the latter scenes of tho affair his son would
bo ruled by his own good sense and his
"And now," tho rector said, as ho sealed
this praiseworthy epistle, "I think before Per
cival comes home I had better havo my af
fairs settled" This he said, and as he spoke
he looked at his own likeness in the chimney
glara. Something struok him "Dear me,"
he exclaimed, "I must get some new teeth!"
For fifty years of good living had told upon
this portion of his mechanism; and .now re
flectiug that he was about to marry, ho
reasoned thus: "At such times wo refurnish
our houses. Think of a man refurnishing his
house, and not refurnishing his mouth! If I
am to havo a new dining tablo, I ought to
havo a new set of teeth to use at it. Besides?"
He grinned in tho glass. "Yes," ho said,
shaking his head, "not at all prepossessing."
He grinned again, and this time by the power
of fancy set new white teeth in tho vacant
spaces. "Not a doubt of it," he murmured;
the greatest improvement!"
So that morning, Instead of making a pro
posal of marriage to the lively widow, ho
went to an adjacent town, where a notable
.dentist practiced, and hero he had his jaws
overhauled and a plan of tho projected im
provement/; drawn out The dentist was a
man of chat, and when ho ascertained whence
tho parson came ho had all sorts of questions
to ask about various people in the neighbor
hood, and curious stories to tell, and gossip to
exchange; so that our little rector, porchod in
the operating chair, laughed and chirruped
and looked tho imago of enjoyment Short
"By tho way," said tho dolitlst, pausing a
moment with one of his tools in Bis hand,
"has not a Mrs. Temple settled rfi Eettlewcll
during the past year?"
Rector Brent know that a faint blush shot
out of his cheek as he answered "Yes."
"A romarkablo woman," tho dentist con
tinued, forgetting his task, while with a med
itative fuce he seemed to contemplate bygono
days. "A very remarkable woman."
"A very, rer;/ rc*nnrkablo woman," the
rector replied, determined to add an adverb
in this very peculiar case.
"Wonderful energy," said the dentist.
'?Most wonderful!" the rector rejoined, still
on tho augmentation principle.
"Ami such a face and figure!" the operator
"Ah, such a face and figure!" repeated the
rector, unable to refrain from rubbing his
"For her yours," the dentist remarked, in
an explanatory voice.
"0, come, come!" cried tho rector, in tones
of remonstrance. "I don't see that. Sho is
youthful, certainly, and sprightly; but still
women are not old at forty-live."
"At what five?" asked the dentist, not hav
ing caught the first word.
"Forty-live," repeated the rector, boldly
'?Seventy-five, more likely," the blunt den
tist Sflid, now intent on his tool, which was
out of repair.
??(), 1 see, 1 see!" cried Hector Brent; "you
are talking of her mother. We don't know
I tho mother. The mother does not live with
I them now."
"IJnlc.-s Mrs. Barbara Tempil' is herself
and her mother at the same time I am not I
talking of her mother." the dentist an
swered. "That lady is seventy years of age,
if she is seven."
Saying this with great unconcern, he ad
vanced to take some further measurement of
the clergyman's mouth, and observing his
face of horror, he said, reassuringly:
"D? n't lie uneasy: lam not going to tako |
The rector, gasping, waved him away. So
convulsive were his movements that for a
moment I he dent ist feared thai lie might havo .
left ..i.I Iiis minor implements ill the !
patient's mouth, whic h implement, having !
been m-idv?rt"iitly swallowed, was. from
its unaccommodating material and unusual i
shape, lining violence to nature in one or |
other of :i ? ennuis which travels.- the human
"Do you menu to say," said the astounded |
clergyman at last, "that Mrs. Barbara Tern- |
pie?the lady who has three fine daughters? |
is more than forty-live;"
?Before one of those young ladies was
born," the- dentist replied, little thinking how
dreadful were his words, "I made a front
tooth for Mrs. Temple?not Mrs. Temple
then. She was a remarkably handsome
woman, something over forty?just a tint of
gray in her hair. I was not surprised when I
heard, a few months after, that young Cap
tain Temple was going to marry her. But I
tons a Uttlo suq^rised when I heard subse
quently that his wife was going to present
him with a child: and when I heard that this
child was followed by a second, and that by
a third, T was, I confess, surprised not a
"But Mrs. Temple was only about two-and
twenty when she married the second time,"
the rector said, still unable to credit what he
"My dear sir," the dentist said, laughing,
"I havo known Mrs. Barbara Temple as a
woman for five-and-forty years at the least.
Let mo see"?he went through some half-audi
ble calculation?"I remember her jilting a
man in 1785."
"Thon," the rector cried, leaping from the
chair and smiting hand against hand till the
room rang, "I shall never believe anything in
this world again except the three creeds and
the Ten Commandments. Nothing is to 1?
trusted?not eyes nor ears nor the human rea
son. Forty-five?seventy-five! jilted a man
in seventeen hundred and ninety-five! Why,
then, she must remember the French Revolu
tion! 0 dear, 0 dear, how very hot it has be1
. como I"
The reader who is ol>servant and a student
of his kind must have remarked that nature
now and then fashion* u weakly sort of brain,
which a single glur.s of binnil beer will bemud
dle. In a similar way does that by no means
infallible workman sometimes turn out a
brain which cannot stand the shock of strange
or di agreeable tidings. Rector Brent was for
practical purposes tipsy that afternoon. The
disclosure had got into his head. It is time
that his legs did not stagger, but his reason
did. He did not know his rieht hand
from his left, and wus prepared to
commit any blunder. While his mind
was in a chuon of ideas that whirled round
and about like leaves iu an aulumuul stonn,
he said to himself that something must bo
done. An insane ?omething it was which ho
fixed upon. He would go straight to Mrs.
Temple and tax her with dissimulation. Tho
excited little gentleman never considered that
the lady hail not made any vtatement of her
age with which she could Ih> confronted. Nor
did hid preparation of impending absurdity
stop here. Fully resolved as ho hod been to
propose to the widow, and ns'.ured as he had
felt that she both ksew his intention and fav
orably regarded it, he quite forgot in his
hurry of mind that he had never addressed
hor hi the way of marriage. So he actually
come before her hi the posture of a betrayed
suitor, and, as will be seen, he used language
projier only to that particular part In the hu
But this is leaping from cliaptor to chapter.
As we'close this one let us simply mark our
parson stepping out of his carriage at Mrs.
Barbara Temple's door. His breath is hur
ried, his face is red, his manner is disordered.
And we may be sure that these outward
mnrlcs of confusion and annoyance convoy
only a very inadequate picture of the state of
his reasoning faculties. Theso were, indeed,
in that state of riot and darkness which in
most eases is the acknowledged preliminary
_[to be continued ]_
SAFE, BTJEE AND BSLIABLE FOB TBE AFFECTIVE CUBE
OF ALL AFFECTIONS OF THE
DISORDE74ED AND TORPID LIVER,
DERANGED STOMACH AND
Such as Biliousness, Chills and Fever,
Liver Complaint, Jaundice Sick and
Nervous Headache, Indigestion, Constipa
tion Heartburn, Sour Stomach, Lossof Appe
tite, Eruptions, Skin Diseases Diarrhoea, etc.
OTT'S ALTERATIVE PILLS is no patent
preparation, or experimental humbug, but
are compounded after a formula of an emi
nent Southern physician of 30 years' expe
rience. They have been used and tested in
his practice and vicinity for years, and the
demand has so increased that at present it
becomes necessary to manufacture them
regularly for the trade, which has only been
done for the past six month, and upon their
merits alone, unassisted by advertising;
their sale is unprecedented and astonishing.
Get a box and try them. For sale by
D. J. G. WANNAMAKER.
Sept 30-lyr._Orangeburg, S. C.
SIGN OF THE WATCH.
NORTH SIDE RUSSELL STREET.
The undersigned calls the attention of
he citizens of Orangeburg and elsewhere
throughout the State to his first class
EVERY ARTIBLE IN
THE JEWELRY LINE,
EYE GLASSES, &c, Ac,
which he is prepared to sell at the lowest
His stock on hand is VARIED AND
CHOICE, AND CANNOT BE SUR
REPAIRING WATCHES, CLOCKS
AND JEWELRY he makes a specialty,
and guarantees perfect satisfaction in every
case. Customers are solicited to give his
articles and work a fair trial before going
elsewhere. T. DeCMAVETTE,
Oct 7- Watchmaker and Jeweler.
~Z. M. WOLFE,
(AT SCHIFFLEY'S OLD STAND.)
CHOICE FAMILY GROCERIES
KI3MT AXn ILB4fci;<>RS.
Pure N. C. Distilled CORN WHISKEY
a sperialtv, Si.7." per gallon.
Pure UVB WHISK KV. 81,73 !??* gallon.
Fine old BAKER BYE WHISKEY,
8-1.00 per gallon.
XNXX GIBSON WHISKEY, 83.75 per
Fl NE SEGARS AND TOBACCO IN
As I expect to change business on first of
January, will sell cheaper than any house
in the City.
Don't mistake the place, but call at the
Northwest corner of Railroad Avenue and
Russell street, right at Railroad Sign.
'fl'h?' Stsite off South Carolina?
BY r.l'.N.i. 1?. I7.LAH, ESQ., MtOUATE judge.
TX7HERKAS, L. II. Wannamaker, C. C.
t t P. has made suit to me to grant him
Letters uf Administration of the derelict es
tate and effects of Sam'] Farrison, deceased :
These are therefore to cite and admonish all
ami singular the kindred and Creditors of
the said Sam*] Farrison,deceased, that they
be and appear before mein the Court of
Probute, tu be held at Orangeburg Court
house, on the 'list day of December next,
after publication hereof, at II o'clock iu the
forenoon, to shew cause, if any they have,
why the said Administration should not be
Given under my hand, this 22nd day of
November, Anno Domini. 1S8B.
Ben.i. P. IZLAIt,
Nov :!.>?; Judge ol Probate.