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By ALAN MUTS.
.: Author of "Vanity Hardware,'' "Golden
THE RECTOR'S FALL.
. Stick, gloves and hat all held in one hand,
the other hand already raised for the com
j raenopment of his speech, so the perturbed
clergyman broke into Mrs. Barbara Temple's
drawing room. He saw what might have
calmed his mind. The three girls were stand
ing in a group admiring a drawing which
Sibyl has just been buying, and their mother
was deep in a novel. Tho girls looked up,
and as the merry rector was a favorite in the
house each fair face turned to smiles at sight
of him. Such rays ought to have melted the
angry man into kindness; but no influence,
kind or* stern, could have quieted him just
"Young ladies," he said, abruptly, address
ing the graceful three, 'Iny business is with
This, odd intimation, considering the ex
cited manner in which he made it, meant,
they thought, one taing only. Lightly they
vanished from the room, but even in going
they glanced significantly at each other; for
the subject was so interesting that they could
not delay an exchange of ideas even till they
got outside tho door. The rector was going
to propose to mamma!
Mamma thought so, too. She was not often
deceived, either by her eyes or her ears, but
for oncu she fancied that the tremor in the
rector's voice, his flushed cheek, his alcoholic
manner, were signs of a lover's uneasiness.
? Indeed, as to the manner, she without any
hesitation explained it as arising from wine.
It was still early in the afternoon, but Mi's.
Barbara Temple was not angry. Teetotalism
was not yet fashionable, and the little woman
remarked to herself: "They very often give
themselves a fillip in that way before coming
to the point Pity when they overdo it?and
yet I don't know."
The rector might be flustered, but Mrs.
Barbara Temple was calm and pleasant.
She motioned him to a seat?not upon her
own sofa, hut close to it; and then, laying
down her novel, she turned upon him with
her most gracious air.
Atuomntcally [so we say in this scientific
ago) he sat down, and, still to continue the
Scientific style, by the actions of the law of
gravitation his hat, gloves and cane, which
he lot go, went their different ways to the
floor. Ho did not notice the fall, and Mrs.
Temple began inly to compute how many
glasses he must have taken.
"I hope he lias not goue too far," tho pru
dent woman said to herself; and her hopo
grew irts? and less as the rector regarded her
with ids red, ccufused visage, saying nothing
for quite n minute. Then he spoke:
''Mi's. Temple," he said, "I this morning re
ceived a treliHMittoua lesson in tho hollowncss
of the worl..:"
Mrs. itariturn Temple was- not greatly
skilled in metaphorical language, especially
the pulpit sort; bu ; as she knew that her vis
itor was not the sort of person to make re
searches into the interior of tho physical.
globe, she had no great difficulty in under
stand'ng tlia: h- spoke of the human kind
under -. is universal symbol.
"Yfeii "Vll." sht said, shaking her head,
"that vferj often happens. The best thing is
to be prepare ' for it. Don't expect too much
of men mid woinuti, mid you will learn to be
good-rhuuinrixl over their selfishness and
byjpgcri*&. After Bid HP wc mu<ib better
ottrsciw... At any rate, let us keep our
She stroked Ihm* dress at these words, brush
ing off some imaginary dust, and, looking up
at the clergyman, she smiled.
"That," the clergyman said, solemnly, "is a
terribly frivolous view to take of so serious a
subject" Then, feeing the woman of the
world elevate her eyebrows and smile more
contemptuously than before, he added:
"Especially when the fault is our own."
He looked at he:* so directly, und with such
anger, that she was quite puzzled. This
could not be the opening passage of an offer
of marriage; and what could it be? Mrs.
Temple, however, had faces and manners for
"Mr. Brent," she said, with just the faint
est sign of distance about her, such as could
either be effaced or deepened according as
the occasion required, "I am afraid you are
talking of something which I don't under
"Mrs. Temple," cried tho over-excited litt je
man, lashed up by his feelings so that he fan
cied himself a judge,, and invested with a
judge's rights, "how old are you?"
For once in her cool, solf-possessed life Mrs.
Templo was really dumfounded. She looked
at her visitor, but found no word to utter,
and he, with an air of the most preposterous
indignation and triumph, faced her, shaking
his head, pursing his hps, and puffing at her
in tho most extraordinary style. At last she
recovered herself. She was sorry to think
it; but the rector must be under the influence
"Mr. Brent," she said, "I think we had bet
ter take a walk in the garden." She hoped
in this quiet way to lead him to his carriage.
"No!" cried the hot little fellow, "we shall
not take a walk in the garden." Ho sneered
horribly as ho repeated her words. "Yon
have deceived me, Mrs. Temple, shocking
"Deceived you!" she cried, now with decid
ed sternness in her voice. "1 am quite be
"Is?it?not?true." continued Mr. Brent,
beating time to each word, as if he were
counting in a music lesson, "that?you?jilt
? of ? the ? French?revolution?" The as
tounding form of this question, and possibly
some fact in her actual life which it brought
to sharp memory, caused Mrs. Temple to
change color. But she was really too amazed
to make any answer. Mr. Brent was now a
kind of drawing room red Indian, and in the
exact frame of mi nil in which thesf children
of nature begin to feel for their tomahawk.
"And?did?you?not?lead? me?to? be
lieve ? that ?you?are?for?ty?five?and?
no?merer" he demanded, still hitting his opt n
palm as he emitted each monosyllabic.
Amidst all her amazement Mis. Temple
could now see in what style she ought to treat
the man, and so, rising with admirable com
posure, she made as if she would at the next
won! ring the bell. |
"Mr. Brent," sh'? said severely, and sh"
said no more. She looked striking; her i
diminutive well-knit figure. >pposite his, which
was in a funny posture, suggestive enough of
tipsy rhetoric, and her stem still face looking
into his flushed and puffy visage.
"You camiot deny it," ho went 011. a true
illustration of the oid saying, that whom the
gfKls wish to destroy they first make mad.
He might even yet have saved himself, *' he
would have fairly noted her aspect; but still
he believed she trembled before him! "Under
that false impression 1 was actually going to
have married you: in "act, r might have mar
ried you, and not found out the truth till all
Mrs. Temple had by this time begun to get
an inkling of the whole truth, and now. like the
general she was, she prepared to crush the
enemy. First she stretched out her hand
imperiously, and signing to a small arm
?"Sit down there," she said
Amazed in his turn, but quailing already.
Mr. Brent obeyed. How he got safely seated
is a mystery, for he never looked at the chair,
nor lifted his eyes from her.
"When you first came into this room," she
said, in more imperious topes than before, "I
thought you were drunk. The next minute I
thought you were mad. It took a little
longer to show me that you are .neither, but
The little man gazed up at her open-mouthed,
like a dying fish. All the strength of his fury
"How dare you ask me my age:'' shu> now
demanded, driving the question into him like
a dagger. He, realizing for the first time his
O' n absurdity, made no answer.
"When did I tell you I was forty-five?" she
asked, changing to a cold, sarcastic to.ie.
"Well," he stammered; "I don't exactly
know; but everybody said that was your age,
and?and I"?he scratched his head with a
pifiable air?"1 supposed you must have told
"Oh, then it seems it was not I that
"Oh, no; it was not you."
He made this admission eagerly, to show
that he was ready to bo civil She went on,
growing colder as he grew more confused:
"You spoke of marrying me; had you ever
"No; I had not," he replied, with a dismal
expression of consternation. "But I?I?I?
"You fancied that you are so engaging that
the only question i) whether you ask or not
The lady's reply would be like the vote of I
thanks at your missionary meetings?it would
go by acclamation."
Ho hung his head. It was a new ex
perience in life for poor Mr. Brent to have to
sit silently by while the demonstration that
he was an ass was quietly and logically
"Now, Mr. Brent" she said, calmly, "let
me enlighten you. You are an amusing
chatterer, and you have a position hi this place.
I did not object to know you, and to be on
easy terms with you. But as to marrying
you, I should not have done it?not even if
you had knelt at my feet for a year. You
are not agreeable to me. I don't think you
would bo agreeable to many women. You
might find some one who would marry you
for your money: I tell you candidly I don't
think you will ever meet a woman, be she
twenty-five or forty-five or seventy-five, who
would marry you for yourself."
"Mrs. Temple,'' the miserable man said,
now thoroughly abashed, "I feel I have made
a great blander. Had I not better bring this
visit to an end.'"
"Not unless you wish it," she answered.
"We can change the subject, that will be suf- j
It was the quintessence of contempt, and re
duced him to the station of a buzzing fly, |
which need not be killed if it ceases to make
She rang the bell, and until tho servant ap- i
peai-ed she allowed the clergyman to enjoy
bis situation in silence.
"Send tho young ladies bore," she said.
Poor little Mr. Brent bung his head low in
deed, as the girls came buck. Suppressed fun
and curiosity were in their every feature; but
schooled in self-possession by their mother,
they were careful to appear as far as possible
"Girls," the little lady said, looking ujton
them with eyes of tiro, ' Mr. Brent has' been
here on n curious mission."
He looked up at her, appealing for mercy,
and she returned Iiis look with an expression
which he believed denoted that mercy was
out of the question.
"He has been interested about an old
woman in this parish of whom he heard much
that wan favorable. Ho, was going to make
her a parish annuitant: but, fortunately, be
fore he committed himself ho was told cer
tain facts about her. He learned that she
had misconducted herself at the time of?the
French revolution, was it not, Mr. Brent?"
He could not answer. He looked at her,
petrified and dumb.
":dr. Brent has been very cautious,''she
went on; "he has not told mo the name of
this old woman. I don't feally think, girls,
her history?or tho business Mr. Brent called
about?concerns you at all. Bat t-till I
thought I would like to ask you if you have
heard of any old woman in this parish who is
very old, and tries to seem very young, who
misconducted herself during tho French rev
"Never heard of her," the wondering girls
called out all together. "Don't you know her
"You see, girls," she ans vered, "Mr. Brent
is so very discreet that he never makef. a
blunder. He can hear even-thing and say
nothing. As I said, it does not concern you,
nor me either, only Mr. Brent thought it did.
We shall not speak of the matter again.
'Now, Mr. Brent, shall wo havo our littlo
walk in tho garden?"
Ho rose with them, trying to find a word
which might enable him to play the part she
assigned him; but none came. Only as the}'
descended tho flight of steps into the grounds
he managed to whisper in her ear, "You are
the cleverest woman I ever knew,''
She turned upon him with a look full of j
"My good man," she whispered back, in
accents of tho utmost scorn, "don't trouble !
yourself to say what I am. You are a great i
LADY BEAUTY'S SISTERS.
[In the course of tho narrative by which
my old friend put me in a position to relate
this story, I more than once ventured to re
mark that be had n surprising acquaintance
with a number of facts und conversations
which might bo supposed to bo beyond the
earshot of an ordinary friend. He smiled in ?
a very peculiar way, and 1 saw a faint streak
of red coming out upon his cheek. Then,
with a sigh, be answered that I might be 1
satisfied that his story was a truthful one. '
How lie came to know it so fully 1 need not
inquire. The sadness with which tin's was
Said .?.et me thinking; but for that time I
understood no morel
Little Mr. Brent returned home that day I
heartily and thoroughly ashamed of himself.
Hi> bitterest enemy could not have wished
him a more humbling fall Being a great
man for letter-writing, and firmly impivsscd
with the fatal belief that the large number of
human complications can be adjusted by cor
respondence, ho sat down after his dinner to
write an explanation and apology to Mrs.
Temple. The number of sheets he tore up,
the enormous variety of openings which lie
adopted and cost aside at the l?th line, tho
sheets beginning "Dear Madam," "My
Dear Madam." then "Dear Mrs. Temple.''
then "My Dear Mrs. Temple ' falling subse
quently into "Mr. Brent vein ap o> present
his respectful compliments;"and li-sidm ihcsu .
the "1 am overwhelmed with roitfu-ji !r
is, I assure you, with the most poignant sen
sations of sorrow;" "Whatran I say?" "What '
can I urge in extenuation of mv i ebavior.'"*? '
so many of those wer" begun, east aside, and '
tont up very small, lest any one .should lind
out what he had been doing, that as the
night wore on the rector gradunlly began to
look like a man who i- being snowed up. j
When, at twenty-five minutes past four a m., i
after nearly nine hours of nnintermitting'
head work, the apology was finished, there
was not left enough dean stationer}" in the
house for a washing bill; but in place of it
there were fragments of paper lying on the
floor sufficient for the manufacture of six
full-sized paper pillows. With aching head,
yet a little consoled withal, tho rector stum
bled up stairs to his wear}' pillow.
If he used a thousand sheets for his letter it
may be safely computed that one thousand
mid one was all that was required for the en
tire correspondence. Small was tho paper
and few the lines of Sirs. Barbara Temple's
"Dear Mr. Brent"?thus it ran?"I have
received your letter of apology, and I cannot
say that it is at all more than the occasion re
quired. At the same time, as you are sensible
of the impropriety of your behavior, I hope
you will now forget it, as I shall. One stipu
lation only I make. The subject of marriage
?or, indeed, nay allusion to what passed be
tween us yesterday?must never be made.
On these terms you are free to resume your
intercourse with my daughters and myself.
Truly yours, Barbara Temple."
"A very handsome letter," Mr. Brent said.
"I shall tako her at her word," and after
lunch he drove over to the house with a
splendid present of fruit and flowers, and be
ing received in the usual friendly way by
mother and daughters, and his character be
ing a.slight one, not permanently impressi
ble, he half forgot the misery of his exit from
the place yesterday. Only when he lirst
spoke to Mrs. Temple there was a trepidation
in his voice and manner; but she was so ob
viously determined to keep her promise that
he gradually grew composed. Once only his
courage quite failed him. Caroline, the
student, was reading history, and with that
slight affectation of intellectual pursuits, from
which not even her mother's lectures could
guard her, sho tried to call tho rector's atten
tion to her lofty employment. The question
she asked him was an unfortunate one. She
was an ardent Liberal, and inquired, in a
pause in the conversation, if he did not think
that great good had arisen from the French |
revolution. The rector was so confounded by
this inapposite interrogation that he nearly
tumbled off his chair.
The next day his thoughts were driven into |
another channel. At breakfast he got a letter
from his son announcing his arrival in Lon
don, and saying that be would bo in Kettle
well at half-past four that afternoon. Amidst
the vexation of the last two days, this was a
prospect full of relief, and the young fellow
was received with more than a paternal wel
come. Before dinner was over, between the
influence of meat and wine and the society of
his son, all acting on a trivial nature, easily
moved, the rector was quite comforted. Now
he. could have laced Mi's. Barbara Temple
with a jest and a look of pleasantry. At least,
so ho fancied.
Brent junior was a good-looking young fel
low of three and twenty, with a fraifk, sim
ple manner well suited to his years. Men
tally ho was much superior '.c his father, and
every sentence showed it; but he bchuved
with a filial deference which was pleasant to
sea All through the dinner there was a
touch of preoccupation and even sadness
about him, and upon this hts father remarked
as soon ns they wen: alone.
"I hope you have not left any one behind,'"
the father asked humorously.
"No," the von answered, with a blush and a
laugh. "You don't think me quite a simple
ton in this matter, do you!"
"Well, Percy, you are young," tho sage
father replied. "At my time of life if a man
fell in love with a picture, I think he would
be a bit of an ass. But then I am forty-nine.
I havoage and experience, and knowledge of
"You nre very kind to tako it in that way,"
the son enswered. "I really don't want to be
"Is this wonderful picture in your posses
sion.''' Blent senior inquired next.
"Yes," the young fellow answered eagerly;
and ho was darting up stairs to fetch it.
Pausing on his way, he said: "I had better
tell you the story of it first."
He made no bad picture himself, leaning
carelessly against the sideboard, his face and
eyes kindling as ho spoke with the delight of
the subject. Littlo Mr. Brent regarded him
with DO small pride; and the young fellow, !
with a light bashfuliiess which made tho j
little narrative the more interesting, told his
"I met an artist out there, and ho and I be
came trrcttt friends. He fell ill, and I nursed
nun, and when ho was getting bettor, one
day, to pass the time, he asked mo to look
over lais portfolio. There was a great deal in
it for which I cared nothing; but just at the
end ho drew out a littlo sketch of a girl
head and shoulders?with a border of simplo
white dress, and, ns -I thought, the loveliest
face I over saw. I was quite dumb as I
looked at it, and there and then, father, I j
fell in love; and I declare to you I felt that'
even if this woman were, only a painter's i
ideal, still, so had sho captivated me, that I
could never give my heart to any living
woman. The memory of this picture would
possess me, and would hang, as it were,
nbove tho living face, and rebuke its imper
fections. You nro not laughing?"
"I am forty-nine, Percy," tho father said, i
with the calmness of wisdom. "You are I
"Well, I shall not trouble you with a long
story," the young fellow continued. "Luckily
for me, my friend was lying on a couch, and j
did not perceive my agitation, or he might
have laughed me out of the dream. I found
the sketch represented a real living girl?a
real living girl, father!?unmarried, English,
and, best of all, living not far from here. I I
asked for the picture, which he gave me
readily. Curiously enough, ho did not seem j
to see in it the superlative beauty which I
saw. Oli. how I hung over that picture! How
1 idolized it! It was near me night and day,
and nl every glance my love for the original
increased. Father, that is the woman I shall
many, if I ever many at all!"
"You must see what her character is,
Percy," the father said. "And we must make '
a few inquiries about family?and property."
"Her origin must be refined!" the lover'
cried. "Her character could be nothing but!
the noblest! As for projierty?property!?
givo me that girl, and 1 shall work hard i
enough to earn a world!"
.So suying, he ran up stairs, and in a mo
ment returned, bearing the precious picture 1
wrapped up in folds of silver paper. With'
trembling haste, but with more than womanly
care, he put back one smooth sheet ni ter an
other until the cardboard lay on the table,
facedown; then, thawing a long breath, he
turned the picture up before his father.
"There," lie murmured, "let her plead her
At I he same instant, his father uttered nn ;
exclamation of surprise.
"Why, Percy," be said, "this girl is a friend i
"A friend!" the lover cried rapturously. |
"An old friend," -the rector answered.
"Her mother Is?nhem!?an old friend of'
mine?a vvry old friend, 1 may say. We nre
quite on intimate terms. The nomoof this
young lady is Miss Sophia Temple!"
FACE TO FACE.
And so it was. Young Brunt bad fallen in
love with the daughter of the woman who '
had just rejected his father so angrily. Mr. j
Brent thought at first that this alone would 1
make an end of the thing; Mrs. Barbara ?
Temple would not give her consent, so rea-1
soned this parson, who knew the world so j
welL He kept silence on the point, however,'
und soon his son's ardor, carrying everything
before it, made his small doubts and scruples
of no effect at all.
"This picture is. good?very good," the
father said, gazing at it, "but I must tell you
that it does not do the girl justice. Where it
fails I cannot say; indeed, I can scarcely say
what it is that makes Sophia Temple so hand
Of course tho son listened to all this with
greedy cars; and tho conversation turned into
a discussion of the prospects of the affair
vfhich for the present the father would not
admit to be hopeful, still remembering his
own late repulse. "When, however, young
Brent ascertained that his father was on
visiting terms with the family he would hear
no more of doubt or difficulty. With such
an opening the fault must bo his if he did not
make the girl his own.
"You aro sure she is not engaged f" he
"Oh, yes, quite sure," tho rector answered
"^Jonoof the girts are engaged; indeed, the
only one of the" family who has teen talked
about in that respeot is the-"
Mr. Brent stopped, and turned as red as a
turkey cock. He never did guard his Hps
well, and this disclosure came out before he
remembered how awkward the subject might
be. So ho repeated the sentence stammer
"The only one of tho faniily that was talked
about hi that respect was-"
"You don't mean her mother," cried the
young fellow. Ho was quite interested in his
beauty's mother, and was ready to be inter
ested in hor grandmother if necessary.
"Yes, tho mother was talked about," the
rector said, still red " x self-consciousness;
but there was nothing , Percy?nothing."
"Is the mother handsome?" asked our lover,
"Decidedly handsome," the father replied
"About what age?"
"Her age, Percy," the rector replied, gloom
ily, "has not been ascertained"
Young .Brent was a man of scientific tastes,
and it was to his credit that, born as he was
to great expectations, ho steadfastly pursued
his studhs, in which he was now no con
temptible authority. Geolog}' was his
favorite, and he resolved to devote his
energies to that science, for he was
old-fashioned enough to believe that birth
to good fortune imposes obligations on
the inheritor. Young Brent resolved to
make his mark in the world. Like all young
enthusiasts, he must be for ever talking over
his subjects, and he would try to interest his
father in geology; but Brent senior had no
patience with the insatiablo demands of that
seien'? for time. "In the name of goodness,"
he wo;dd say, "is not six thousand years
enough "or you? Just think what could be
done in six thousand years! Up to that time
you can do oh you please, but I do object to
yoar upsetting everything on the plea of
wanting time to account for a dead fish los
ing found in one of your strata. Is it any
great matter how it came there, or when? To
be upsetting Bishop Usher simply because
somebody has found a few bones in a rock
where ho did not expect it, seems to mo the
most monstrous thing I over heard of."
For alt that, when tho cosy-humored rec
tor heard his son praised in company for his
scientific attainments he was not ill pleased;
and contrasting his earnest and energetic
youth with the idleness and frivolity of other
young fellows in tho town, he was willing to
excuse the mild skepticism which contented
itself with requiring a little chronological
elasticity from Bishop Usher. Indeed, the
rector might fairly 1)0 proud of his son; in
telloctual ardor is seldom exclusive, and tho
young man's love of science gave him sym
pathy with much beside which was net di
rectly scientific. He took an interest in
politic*, but with Radical symptoms, which
his iatuer^pouhced upon with vigilance and
great heat, ending tho dispute generally with a
laugh, and the hope that things would last his
time. Besides this young Brent was a good
musician, and not without literary tastes," for
he dabbled in poetry. But partly through
studious shyness, and more from a certain
physical awkwardness, he was not altogether
a drawing room man. K*j had too great
respect for women to be altogether a favorite
with them; for these exalted beings, knowing
their celestial qualities, cannot see why they
should be approached with downcast eyes
or addressed with faltering Hps. So young
Brent was not, a lady's man, nor a company
man, although there were stories of at least
two pretty girls having been in love with
him; mid as to company, whenever tho talk
grew serious, Brent, as by natural right,
began to speak freely, and spoke often with
It was impossible to withstand tho lover's
entreaties, and so Uttle Mr. Brent, divided
between uneasiness'and satisfaction, fearing
a repulse, and yet not without hope of now
wholly regaining his footing in tho widow's
lively house, introduced his son to the
ladies. AH four were in the drawing room
when the gentlemen were announced, and
young Brent was sufficiently master of
himself not to betray any preference for
one daughter before another. Indeed, ho
rather avoided Sophia, talked more and more
freely with Caroline and Sibyl; and so few
and shy were the glances he cost at her he
worshiped, that four pair of femalo eyes did
not, in a quarter of an hour, detect him as
lover. -Caroline rather liked his conversa
tion, which was a trifle bookish; but Sibyl
pronounced him awkward and bashful.
Sophia said nothing, from which one might
have fancied that she thought the more; but
it is certain that, as yet, she had not recog
nized a lover.
Young Brent left the house enchanted. He
was ready to say, like the dazzled queen of
the East, that the half had not been told him.
Sophia Temple did, indeed, look very lovely
that morning, and as her face was in a most
particular sense a face of expression, no por
trait could do her justice. Tho young lover
flew off in an ecstasy of praise. Was ever a
true picture of womanhood seen before.' Was
not Sophia the living presentation of that
image of sense and sensibility which hovers
around every man's fancy, as the likeness of
the true woman, but which seldom takes form
and feature?once o'- twice iu a generation
perhaps.' I pardon the lads raptures. And
in her face that afternoon there was a delight
ful harmony of expression, sweetness and
seriousness, animation with a suspicion of
humor, and a sort of tender sadness predomi
nating over all the rest. Is not the highest
beauty always touched with sadness?
The worthy mother, who never lost a
chance of instructing her daughters, and
eliciting their opinions for correction, asked
thcni what they thought of their new ac
"Dull," replied Sibyl, finishing him off
with one word, imperially delivered.
"What do you say, Caroline.'"
"Oh, not dull, certainly," answers Miss
Bookworm; "we talked about astronomy."
"Don't mistake the ilrawing room for the
library, Car," remarked her mother briskly.
"Learned talk is very affected Be as well
educated as you please, but don't seem so.
Now, Sophia, what did you think of voting
"I had hardly formed an opinion, mamma."
"You should have done so, Sophia
Never be listless. And now, girls, shall I
tell you my opinion?"
"Do, mamma!" the three exclaimed. For
mamma was always racy and pungent and
instructive, especially in her professorial
"Ho is a littlo sheepish, and he wants not
only confidence, but manner as well. A few
rcraarksAfom some observing lady friend,
"Yourself, mamma!" Car cried.
"Well, dear, let us say myself, then. It
would do him a world of good. He is a dil
igent young fellow, and would soon improve
if ho could bo got to give his mind to it.
Those quiet, retiring young men have often a
great deal in them, and remember, girls, that
if they do not shine at tho times or in tho
ways in which ordinary men of the world
no, still they are sometimes brillinnt and
effective where men of mere manner and
accomplishments quite fail. Don't Ihj preju
diced, even by sheepishness, Sibyl; all
is not homeliness that see'ns so. And Caro
line, my love, do give up that bad habit of
trying to talk what you call sense; you have
plenty of attractions without tlint. And,
Sophia, when shall I tench you not to be so
listless; npjicar so if you please, for I admit
it gives you a charming look nt times; but
still, have your wits about you. I assure
you, dear, at your age, if a young fellow had
been ten minutes in the room I could have
told you everything about him, down to tho
color of his eyelashes, and no one ever called
me a starer. It was observation, dear, noth
ing more. Now do observe. GirLs," she said
in conclusion, with an air of earnest appeal,
"when shall I make you women of the world?"
Vigilant, energetic, good-humored, there
she stood with her delicate daughters around
her, training for society and conquest and
applause with as much patience and enthu
siasm as though sho had been a religious
superior making spiritual pupiLs ready for nn
eternal state. But shrewd little Mrs. Temple
well knew how fleeting her world was.
"What a pity it lasts so short a time!" sho
would often say. "But that is not our doing.
Let us make the most of it while wo can."
A PnETTY WOMAN AND A FOOL.
Fate decreed that just at this time Caroline
and Sybil should each get a lover. An el
derly couple of good family and fortune, Doc
little by name, lived in the neighborhood;
and these having but one child, a son, who
would inherit a large estate, decided to give
him a profession that he might escape the
dangers of an unemployed youth. Ho was
sent into tho army, and was at present upon
Egerton Doolittlo was a tall young man,
slim, with light hair and a lisping speech.
His attractions, if he had any, were neither
of body nor of mind; for as to the body he
was feeble in gait, with long legs of inade
quate thickness, and he was destitute of eye
brows. The utmost assiduity also failed to
bring out a mustache, although he used ca
pillary fluids of appalling strength, rightly
judging that for a man with a military career
before him a certain amount of hair on the
face is as essential as uniform or a sword.
HLs mind was of a similar pattern?weak, re
clining and inane; in a word, he had drawn
the line between sanity and imbecility with a
most battling nicety. He walked with his
head a little on one side, dressed in the top of
tho fashion, woro as maiy different suits as
there are hours in the day, lost money mildly
at cards, and came to church regulai ly every
Sunday morning, saying his prayers out of a
book the size of a. sixpence, H.< had a credit
able desire to read only such publications as
were likely to improve Iiis mind, and he al
ways inquired if a work was erroneous or
not, saying that he was afraid lest he might
be led into the perusal of something erroneous,
and might never find it out. Ho admired
women and adored cleverness, frankly con
fessing that he had none of his own, mid
thought it "such a useful thing, you know."
Indeed, he might have set for the immortal
Mr. Toots, with whom ho had so much in com
mon that I fear readers may think Egerton
Doolittlo only a study of that great prince of
noodles. But Egerton is a man by himself,
in spito of a resemblance which fairly sug
gests that he is no more than a reflection.
He met Car Temple at a ball and danced
with her, and the young lady, true to herself,
inquired, in one of the pauses of the dance, if
he had read Allison's "History of Europe."
Doolittle, whose weakness was not historical
study, was able, with tolerable readiness, to
assure her that he had not. He then sank
into silence, that this part of the conversation
might settle into hLs mind. Presently he in
"Is that work you spoke of just now a very
"Very big," she answered.
"More than ono volume!:" he r.-\
solved not to let the talk flag.
"Ono volume!"replied Caroline. "A..< ..,
"A dozen!" exclaimed Dooliitle. He was
so overwhelmed by this statement that be
did not alter a muscle of his face nor emit a
syllable for full five minutes. Then he
"You haven't read it, have you?"
"Oh, dear, yes," Caroline replied, with the
confidence of a practised student.
"The whole dozen volumes?" inquired
Doolittle, who could scarcely believe his
"The whole dozen volumes," Caroline an
swered, repeating his words with a not un
"Then you must bo a tremendously clever
girl," he said, gazing at her with profound
admiration and awe.
"Clever, because I have read twelve vol
unas!" cried Caroline, who had a sprightly
wit "I shall read twelve hundred, and see
what you say then."
"No," Egerton said, gravely; "ynu will not
read twelve hundred volumes, I am sure."
Egerton meditated for another few minutes.
Then he asked:
"Is it an erroneous work?"
'?Thoroughly."' Car replied, with decision.
She was a Radical
"Don't you think it dangerous to read
"Don't know," Car answered. "Not very."
She tossed her head with a mixture of laugh
ter and light scorn.
"If I were to read twelve volumes of an
erroneous work I should be quite upset."
Egerton said, as if he wen- talking of Mister I
salad. "Upset for weeks, but you are tremen
dously strong and you blow it?in mind, I
Caroline was not displeased with Doolit
tle's frank admiration of her powers, urn- did
she despise it, though its silliness she plainly
saw. Something told her ho wotdd one day
be a lover, and she did not turn from tho.
prospect with aversion. Doolittle was rich,
but I do not mean to say that his riches alone
made him tolerable iu her eyes. Sho is not
the first clever girl who has liked a man?as
husband?because he was weak-minded. |
Car Temple, fond of clever menj preferred in
the matrimonial relation a fool: but lier
actual or possible reasons for this preference
must be discovered by moro penetrating dis
sectors of human nature than myself.
Doolittle astonished his parents mightily
when he informed them, with unusual blunt
Dess and energy, that ho had fallen in love.
Astonishment with the old jxiople quick
ly ran on into fear; for in a brain
so weak as his what might not love accom
plish? They trembled lest they should
hear him say that some pretty milliner cr
shop girl had conquered him, for he affected
little flirtations of that sort. When, therefore,
the young simpleton gave the name of Car
Temple, bis parents could not altogether con
ceal their feelings of relief. It is tme their
acquaintance with the Temples was the slig! t>
est in the world; but still sh-< was a lady, ard
they accepted her as daughter-in-law prospi c
tive without any hesitation. 1 f,u ^ped with
this permission, Doolittle tlow oir . own street,
not intending to cull on his beloved, or, in
deed, to do anything in particular, when, rs
the fates would have it, lie tumbled into h s
love-making in this fashion. Who should ho
see, swimming gracefully up the drowsy
street, but Car herself, tall, elegant ami alto
gether bewitching. Doolittle's heart lltw into
his mouth. He slackened speed, lest he should
come upon hor beforo ho had braced his nerves
for the meeting, and -while he loitered, Car
turned Into a halK?rdnshor's shop. H* now
drew near cautiously, and soon spied her
seated at the counter trying on gloves. Doo
little, never a wholly responsible l.eing, was
so fluttered that his behavior for the next
few seconds must have had something me
chanical in it. Ho stob into tho shop, and
Car was surprised to hear a chnir softly
drawn across the floor toward hor, and beforo
she could look up it was placed at her side;
and then she saw Doolittle sinking into it, his
eyes fixed on her face all tho time as if ho had
been magnetized. Car felt the absurdity of
the situation, but with a readiness which her
mother would have praised, she resolved not
to let the shop poop'o see anything to laugh
at. So she gave Doo.'ittle a lively little nod,
as if his condui t were the most natural iu the
world, and holding up a pair of gloves, she
asked her admirer if they were not a pretty
"Capital gloves. I should say," he replied.
"Do let me pay for them!"
"Pay for my gloves!" cried Car, breaking
now into a hearty laugh at his absurdity.
"0, do let sne pay lor them," he went on,
pleadingly. "The girl in this shop is such a
nice girl?such a tremendously nice girl. I
often buy gloves for her; she is so nice. Do
let me pay for your gloves."
"We never pay here," Car replied, happy
in her excuse. "Everything goes down in
"I tun sorry for that," the lover answered.
"I should have liked to pay for your gloves.
0, how are you.' Aro you very well?" he
asked, addressing tho shop girl, who had re
turned by this time.
She blushed at his salutation till she was
like one of the beauties on her own glove
_[to be continued ]_
SAFE, 5U3E ACT EELIA3LE FOB THE AFFECTIVE CUBE
OF ALL AFFECTIONS OF THE
DISORDERED 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 hasoniy 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 sah; bv
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 kuist class
EVERY ARTIBLE IN
THE JEWELRY LINE,
EYE GLASSES, &C.,&C,
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. DeCII IAVETTE,
Oct 7- Watchmaker and Jeweler.
Z. M. WOLFE,
(AT SCHIFFLEY'S OLD STAND.)
CHOICE FAMILY GROCERIES
I!KMT wn'KS AlXn I<I<llJOKS.
Pure N. C. Distilled COHN WHISKEY
a specialty, Si.7." per gallon.
Pure RYE WHISKEY. 81,7.1 per gallon.
Fine old BAKER RYE WHISKEY,
?4.(io per gallon.
XXXX GIBSON WHISKEY, ?.'1.73 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 coiner of Railroad Avenue and
Russell Street, right ill Railroad Sign.
The Stale of Noutli Carolina,
r.v itEN.i. r. izi.au, ksq., phoilvte juuce.
TX71IEREAS, L. 11. Waiuiamaker, 0. C.
V V I*. has made suit to me to grant him
Letters of Administration of the derelict es
tate and effects of Sam'I Farrison, deceased :
These are therefore to cite and admonish all
and singular the kindred and Creditors of
the said Sain'l Farrison,deceased, that they
be and appeal before me, in the Court of
Probat?;, to lie held at Orangeburg Court
house, on the 31st day of December next,
after publication hereof, at 11 o'clock in the
forenoon, to shew cause, if any they have,
why the said Administration should not *e
Given under my hand, this 22nd day of
November, Anno Domini, 188T?.
Bh.n.l. P. I'/.lak,
Nov 25-fi .Judge ot Probate._
For Sale or BEenl.
f'/' ACRES OF LAND ON OLD
DD Charleston Road, about one mile
from this city.
FOR SALE: One Walnut Extension
Dining Table; will seat ten persons. Price
?8. Apply to
Dec lli-l GLOVER & BOWMAN.