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lowa County Democrat.
f VOL. XII. THE OLD MAN'S FUNERAL. I >,nv an agad man upon Mi? bier. Mis hair was thin ami white, and on his brow A record of the caret) of many a year— i.'aroa that wore ended and forgotten now. And there was sadness round, and face* bowed, And woman's tears fell last, and children wailed aloud. Then rose another hoary man and said. In faltering accents, to that weeping train. Why mourn yt mat our aged friend is '..ad? Ye are not sad to see the gathered grain. Nor when their mellow fruit the orchards cast, Nor when the yellow woods lot fall the ripened mast. Whv weep ye then for him, who, having won The bound of man's appointed years, at last. Life's blessings all enjoyed, life's labors done, Serenely to hts Huai rest lias passed; While the soft memory of his viitues yet Lingers like twilight hues when the blight sun is set. And I am glad thsl he has lived thus long. And glad that he aas gone to lus reward; Nor can I deem that nature did him wrong. Softly to disengage the vital cord. For when his hand grew palsied, and his eye Dark with the mists of age. it was his time I.idle. WII.UAM I’l LUN BIIVANT, V NOBLE (HINTLKMAN. The Story of am Old Lady. 1 sat spinning at my little wheel it the sun. lor the Autumn day was cold, when 1 heard someone whistling, and, looking up, there was young Squire Turner, with his arms folded on the gate, looking over. When he eaught my eye he laughed and blushed; and 1 rose and made him a courtesy. He was a handsome gentleman, the 'Squire, and the hand from which he pulled the glove shimmered in the sun with pearls and diamonds; and he was bonny to look at. with his hair like spun gold m the October sunlight. When leourtesied he bowed, making his curls dance over his shoulders, and, said he, “I’ve spoiled one pretty picture that 1 could have looked at ail day, hut I've made another as pretty, so I’ll not grieve. May 1 come in?” “ And welcome sir,’’ said 1; and 1 sat a chair for him, for he was grandfath er’s landlord: hut for all that I felt un comforatahle, for 1 was not used to line company. Ho talked away, paying me more compliments than 1 was used to, for grandmother who brought me up, always said, “ Handsome is as hand some does,” and “ Beauty is hut >kin deep.” Since I’m telling the story I'll tell the truth, 1 had done wrong about one thing. Neither ol the old folk* knew that I wore Evan Locke’s ring in my bosom, or that we’d taken a vow to each other underjthe hawthorn that grew in the church lane. I never meant to de ceive, hut grannie was old and a little hard of hearing, and that love of mine was such a sweet secret. Besides, money seems to outweigh all else when people have struggled till their lives through to turn a penny, and they knew Kvan was a poor, struggling surgeon. 1 thought I'd wait a while until I could sweeten the news with the fact that he’d begun to make his fortune. Hrannio came in from the dairy live minutes after the ’Squire was gone,and heard he had been there. 1 didn’t tell her of the tine speeches, hut there was a keyhole to the door she came through, anil I have a guess she heard them. That night we had something else to think of. Misfortunes had come upon grandfather; hut 1 didn't foresee that when the half year’s rent should come due not a penny to pay it with would be found. All this time Evan Locke and Iliad been as fond as ever of each other, and he came as often as before to talk with grandpa, on the winter nights, and still every little while our young landlord, 'Squire Turner, would drop in and sit in his lazy way watching me knit or spin. Once or twice he was llushed with wine, and over bold, for he tried to kiss me. Hut, ’Squire or no, 1 boxed his ears fur hi? pains, and no softer than I could help either. 1 could not help his coining, nor help seeing him when he came, and I did not desire that Evan should he angry with me. But he was. Eh, so high and mighty and spoke as though one like the 'Squire could mean no good by com ing to so poor a place as the school master’s. He made me angry and I spoke up. •• For that matter the ’Squire would he glad to have me promise to marry him,” said I. “He thinks more of me than you do just now." “ Maybe you like him better," said Evan. “ I don’t say that," replied I. “But had temper and jealousy scare*; make mejover fond of another. 1 pray I may never have a husband who will scold me.” For he had been scolding me. There was no other name for it. Well, Evan was wroth with me and 1 with him —not heart deep, though, 1 thought—and 1 did nut see him fur more than a week. I wa troubled much, though. I knew he would come round again, and mayhap a-k my par don. For before you are wed yen can bring your lover to his senses when you will. So I did not fret after Evan -absence, nor quite snub ’Squire Turner, who liked me more than ever. But one night grandfather came in from a lone ly ride, and shutting the door, stood be tween grandmamma and me. looking at me, and so strange !y mat we both grew frightened. At last he spoke; MINERAL POINT, WlB., FRIDAY, JULY 12, IS7S. “ I've boon to the ’Squire’s,” said he. “ For the first time I had to tell him that 1 could not pay his rent w hen due.” I opened my lips. Grandmamma's hand covered them. Grandpa drew me to him. “Thou art young, lass," he said,“and they are right who call thee pretty. Say, eould’st like the 'Squire well enough to wed him?” “ En?” cried grandma. “ Sure, you’re not wandering?" “ ’Squire Turner asked me for this lass of ours to-night. Of till women in tin' world there is but one he loves a> he should his wife, and that is our Agatha.” “1 dreamt of golden rings and a hunch of white roses on Ghristmas eve,” cried grannie. “ I knew the lass would he lucky. But 1 put my head on grandfather’s shoulder and hid my face. The truth must out, 1 knew. “ Will have him, and he a rich lady?" And when he had waited for an answer, 1 hurst out with “No "and a sol* together. “She’s frightened," said grandmam ma. “ Nay, we must all wed once in our lives my child." Then grandpa talked to me. He told me how poor they had grown, and how kind the ’Squire was, and 1 had hut to marry him to make my grandparents free from debt and poverty their lives through. If i refused and vexed the ’Squire, heaven only knew what might happen. “She’ll never ruin her poor grand papa,” sobbed grandmamma. Ah! it was hard to hear— hitter hard; hut now there wai no help for it. I took the ring from my bosom and laid it on my palm, and told them that it was Evan Locke’s, and that 1 had plighted my troth to him. And grand mamma called me a deceitful wench, and grandfather looked as though his heart would break. Oh! 1 would have done anything for them—anything but give up my true love. That night 1 kissed his ring and prayed heaven that he might love me always. In the morning it was gone, ribbon and all, from my neck. 1 looked for ii high and low, hut found no sign .of it. And I began to fear the loss of the dear ring was a sign that 1 would never marry Evan Locke. The days passed on and he never came near me. “Oh. it was cruel in him,” 1 thought “to hold such anger for a hasty word he had provoked, when 1 skoke if that he must know 1 loved him so." Atf! grandma would scarcely look at me (1 know why now ), and grandpa sigh ed and moaned and talked of the workhouse. And 1 thought i should die of grief among them. One day prnmlmn. said to me. 'll seems that your sweetheart is not over fond of you, nor over anxious to see you.” “ Why not?” said I. “ Where has he bean this month hack ?’’ “ Busy, doubtless," said I, with a smile, though 1 thought my heart would hurst. “ Perhaps you know all about it,” said grandma. “ You are going with him. mavhe.” “‘Where?" said I, She went to the kitchen door and beckoned in a woman who sat there— Dame Coombs, w ho had come over with eggs. . , .. “ 1 heard you rightly, she said. “ You told me Evan Locke and his mother were making ready for a voy age.” "They're going to Canada, My son, a carpenter —and a good one, though 1 say it—made the doctor a box for his things. The old lady dreads the new country, hut she goes for the doctor’s sake. There’s money to he made there, they say. That's what lakes him." “ 1 loltl you so,” said grandmother. “ 1 don’t believe it," said I. “ They've sold the house, and gone to Liverpool to take ship; and yon may lind the truth for yourself, if yon choose to take the trouble," said Dame Coombs. “I’m no ehatterl*ox, to tell falsehoods about my neighbors." And she went away in wrath. And still I would not believe it till 1 had walked across the moor and had seen the shutters fa>l closed and the door barred, and not a sign of life about the place. Then I gave up hope. I went home all nale and trembling, and •at down at grandmamma’s knee. “ It’s true," said 1. “And for the sake of so false a lad you’ll see your grandfather ruined, and break his heart, and leave me that have nursed you from a babe, a widow ,’’ 1 looked at her as she sobbed, and I found strength to say: “Give me to whom you will, then, since my own love does not want me." And then I crept up stairs and sat down on my bedside, weak as though J had fainted. 1 would have thanked heaven for forgetfulness just then, hut it wouldn't come. The next day ’Squire Turner was in the parlor as my accepted lover. How pleased he was, and how the color came hack into grandfather's old face I And grannie grew so proud and kind, and all the house was aglow, and only I -ad. But I couldn’t forget Evan —Evan whom I had loved so—sailing away from me without a word. 1 suppose they all saw 1 looked sad. The ’Squire talked of my health, and would make me ride with him over the moors for strength. The olil folks said nothing. They knew what ailed mo: only >ur little Scotch maid seemed to think there was aught wrong. Once she said to me: " What ails ye, miss? Your eye is dull and your check is pale, and your hraw grand lover oanna make ye smile; ye are na that ill, cither." “ No; I’m well enough,” said I, She looked at me wistfully. "Gin ye’d toll me your ail, I might toll yon a cure." she said. But there was no euro for n o in this world, and I couldn't open my heart to simple Jennie. So the days rolled by, and 1 was close on my marriage eve, and grannie and Dorothy Plume were busy with my w edding robes. 1 w ished it was my shroud they were working at, instead. And one night the pain in my heart grew too great, and 1 went out among the purple heather on the moor, and there knelt down under the stars and prayed to he taken from the'world; " for how can 1 live w ithout Ivan ?" 1 said. 1 spoke the words aloud, and then started up in affright, for theie at my side was an elfish little figure, and 1 heard a cry that at first I scarce thought earthly. Yet it was hut scotch Jennie, who had followed me. “ Why do yon call him your true love now?” she said: “ye sent him fra ye for sake o’ the young Sonin'." “ How dare you follow and watch me?” But she caught mv sleevt. “ Dinna he vexed." site taid. “ Just hide a wee, and answer what I speer. It’s for love of yon, for 1 s*en ye waste like the snaw wreath in the sun sin (he ’Squire wooed ye. Was it jour will the lad that loved the ground ye trod on should have his ring again!" “ What do you mean?" 1 said. “ I’ll speak gin 1 lose my place." said Jennie. “I rode with the mistress to young Dr. Locke’s place pad the moor, and there she lighted and fave him a ring, and what she said I kow not, hut it turned him the' tint o’ death, and said he: ‘ There’s na a drop o’ trie hhlid in a woman ’gin she is false.’ Aul he turned to the wall and covered hi eyes, an’ your grannie rode home. There, ’tis all I kin—will! it do?" “ Ay, Jennie," said I " hetven bless yon I” And had I wings on my iVrt'l could not have come to the cottage door sooner. I stood before my g’andmother, trembling and while, and i said; “Oh, don’t tell me, grannie, you haveehouti'il and robbed me of my rue love by a Te'. Did you steal thetnth ring from my neck and give if hack o Kvan, as if from me? Yon I’ve lovet and honored my life long—l’d rather de than think it.” She turned scarlet. “True love?" said sin l “you’ve hut one love now—’Squire Timer." " Yon have done it!” I cried, “it’s written on your face.” And she looked down at that and fell to weeping. “ My own true love wis breaking his heart,’’ she said. “My husband and 1 had loved for fifty years, I did it to save him. Could I let x girl’s fancy, worth nothing, stand in my way, and see him a beggar in Itis old age? Oh, girl, girl!" And tht'n I fell down at her feel like a stone. I knew nothing for an hour or more; hut then, when 1 was better, and they left me with Jennie, I hade her fetch my hood and cloak and her own, away I went across the moor in the starlight to where the hall w indows wereahla/.e with light, and asked the housekeeper to let me see tin ’Squire. She stared at me for my boldness no wonder—hut called bin. So in a moment he stood before mein his even ing dress, with his cheeks hushed and his eyes bright, and led me into a little room and seated me. “ Agatha, my love, I hope no mis chance brings yon here,” he began. But 1 stopped him. “Not your love ’squire Turner," I said. “I thank you for thinking so well of me, lint even after all that has passed, 1 I could say no more. He took my hand. “Have 1 offended you, Agatha?” he saiil. “ Not yon. The offence—the guilt oh, I have been sorely cheated I " and all I could do was to -oh and think he thought me mad. At last strength came to me. I went hack to the tirsl and told him all—how we hail been plighted to each other, waiting only for heller prospects to he wed, and how, when he honored me by the offer of his hand, and 1 angered my grandparents by owning l< the truth, and of the ring grannie hail stolen from my breast, and the false message that had sent my promised husband from me. “And though 1 never see Evan Locke again,” said I, “ still 1 can never be an other man’s true love, for I am his un til 1 die.” Then, as I looked, all the rich color faded out of the ’squire’s face, and I saw the sight we seldom see more than j once in a lifetime, a strong young man | in tears. At last he arose and came to me. " My little Agatha never loved me,” he said. “ Ah. me! The news is had 1 thought she did. This comes of van j ity." “ Many a higher and fairer have | hearts to give,' I said. "Mine had | gone ere you saw me." And (hen, kind and gentle as though I had not grieved hint, he gave me lus arm and saw me across the moor, and at the gale paused and whispered: "Be at rest, Agatha, The t'anadian ship Gidt/cii (i 'tKii/i has not sailed yet." I liked him better titan 1 had ever done before that night when 1 told [Grannie that 1 would never wed him. Eh! but he was fu to he a king the grandest, kindest, best of living men; who rode away with the break of the morrow and never stopped till he reached Liverpool, and found Evan Locke just ready to set foot upon the (ioMt'n ifinny, and told him a tale that made his heart light and sent him hack tome: but our young squirt' ? Heaven bless him! Vnd who was it that sent old grand father the deed of gift that made the cottage his own, and who spoke a kind word to tin 1 gentry for the young Dr. Is'eke that helped him into practice" Still no one hut ’squire Turner, whom wo taught our children to pray for every night. For we were married, and in a few years had boys and girls at our knees; and when the eldest was nigh two, the thing that I needed to mnke me quite happy happened -and from far over the sea, where he had been for three good twelve-months, came onr ’squire, with the bonniest lady that ever blushed beside him, and the hall had a mistress at last and a mistress who loved the ’squire as I loved Evan. Eli! hut it’s an old story. She that 1 remembered a girl I saw in her eollin, withered and old. And then they opened the vault where the squire had slept ten yearn to put. her beside him; and I’ve nothing left of Evan, my life and my love, hut his memory, and it seems its if every hope and dream of joy 1 ever had were put away under tooinhslones. And even the liohlrii (iron/i, thi'great strong ship that would have Imrne my dear from me, has mouldered aw ay on the bottom of the sea somewhere. And I think my wed ding ring is like to outlast ns ail. for I have it yet, and I shall he Ptl to-mor row. Ninety! It’s a good old age, and it can’t i*e long now before I meet Evan and (lie rest in heaven. Humorous. The whole thing in a nutshell —The worm. “ Pa," said a I-year old, “ (hero’s a poor man out there that would give anything to see you." “ Who is it my son?” It is u blind man." Front tlie way Anderson prevaricates we should know he was a night-editor who had mined his veracity by writing display-heads, lioxlon Ululu’, “What is faith?” asked a Sunday school teacher of a hoy scholar, lie belonged to a hase-hall nine, and he re plied, “ Betting on a left-handed pitcher.” A liny humble bee w ill move a man quicker and further and more unani mously than the biggest dose of castor oil ever proscribed. SI. Lorn* .Iminiut. One of Jaspers converts is frank enough to reply; “ I (loan know wlied der I’/.e got relignn or not try me with aehickun! Dilmit Fnr JVrun. Now ilmli llir inillnu tiimhln lull.’ IIII* roluv- Ami m within tli rln*r*o ho magirut awful holey. i’onhrt Un'.ftti. It is a, singular coincidence that when ever there is a pigeon-shot or liorse liot in the vicinity, the notices on the doors indicate dial all the lawyers arc out of town trying eases, or else in the superior court library. New ILirni ItnjiMtr. “ Mrs. Junks," says an exchange “lias proved herself a match for General Butler.” We certainly hope so. Mar riage is always to he encouraged, and the old man has been lonely llmsomany moons. IlitJ/iih) F/jiiihh. Tell hi) mil la nimmifiil iiuinliin 1.1 ft- in tail an I’inpiy ilromii; Li t a man urn im rmumlmrs, Amt u niKhtiimri' It will Hi’ian St, I.oiiih Jnurniil. “Sam, von are not honest. Why do you put all the good punches oil top of the measure and the little ones below?" “ Same reason, sail, dal makes the front oli your house all marble, and de hack gate chielly slop har’l salt. St, Louin Spirit. “ And what did yon think of Switzer land?" asked a ladv of a young Ameri can belle who had just made the tour. “ Pretty place, but it struck mo there were too many lakes and too few young men.” In one of the freedmen’s schools a lad was to receive a prize banner tyr re citing the ten commandments. Hi; ad vanced to the platform, ami tin; super \ mtendent asked him his name. His reply wi, “Well, sail, mas’r calls me A ’ap’n, hut my maiden name's Moses.” ! The school smiled. Did the Prophet Isaiah over on I at a railroad station ? It certainly looks so, •or how could In' havo described it so lilorally if ho had not? " And ho shall snatch on (ho right hand and ho hungry: and he shall oat on tho 101 l hand, and thoy shall not ho satisfied," (hnpmsi tiomilk, 4 . Harbor “ Mow long ago did you havo your hair out?" Customer " A hunt three months ago." Harbor— “ Awful had cut. Who out it?' Cus tomer “ Von did." Silence of ton minutes. Harbor (having somewhat recovered his nerves) •" i see that your chin has hoon out hv tho last barber that shaved you ?" Customer " Vos." harhor “ Von ought to have hntlt a head on him higgor'n a mule." Cus tomer " 1 did." Harhor eonliuuod to shave with groat care. l'uk>i(>un Ki e /uvtjfi, 'V lu’ii nl.;lil serene mu) nmntens, n iili a* ii>\el> imunUumms ulsumrous. oi or oiirtli ant h Ivins ; Vs s Bom'rnl I It Ins I lii' iiiim iii an nil i not iii <’ i’lmm nous, Ami in 1 1ml Inuir I'msmut, I'luMo unit ninli’, VV o In’iir llio litre lloinl Inin limns on ills tlute Kvilmnso, •100 Hooker, at the reception of the army of tho I'olomae, occupied a big arm-chair, having a. beautiful girl of seven on his knee, whom ho kissed. One of the company remarked to the child: " Yon must romomhor this. lon or fifteen years hence yon will he very proud of having hoon kissed hy Fight ing .100 Hooker." Whereupon the Heueral wittily retorted : “ 1 should not mind it, either, my dear, if you were ten or fifteen years older now." *TU mvcc! wlu'ii tho ro.so drop* to Hoop, Mill Itwll‘l to ll* iu'*( ttli'M tho ilo\ o. WhiMi tho llrnt Mnr from hoiwon iloih peep, Aiitt ho.Hoummo tlilohhlnv: with lo\o. To *ll with x our hill olio, who bon tun W III) tllO pOWflllll *W( OIIIOMH ol' >oio, Anil iflltlo into lovollo*l ol i)ioniii<4, At* *llO tll'WlOH i our 1)0*0 W Itl) il .*1 Miw )n/if Oa/% At the Congress lUsmarck : “ Kh, vol yon say, Oortshy? Yon don't dink as der I'alkans vash do.* natural pouu ilary of Pulearia anyhow (calls his hull dog). Hero, Schneider, sick 'em! si a hoy ! Oh, yon shange your niindt 'bout dal, eh? Hot ish all righdt. Here, Vuwcopp, dunk Sehneider ails in dor entry ant lie him loose. P'raps vo vaul him again pooty soon." The Uev. Penstock, ol the I,hue Kiln Cluh, oilers tho following preamble and resolution: “ W'haras, de fo'lh o' July ginerally spoken of as ile glnrns fo'lii am about to hurl itself upon dis omniv orous country; atml, Wharns, da fn’th am a day to lie observed hy ail true patriots, an’ all good men am 'spooled to turn out an' help enforce a whoopin’ lime; Harfore, resolved, dal dis elnh turns out on massy an' marches wid do patriots from de place o’ heginnin' to de place o' endin’, stoppin at do usual erossin’s on do way to lake on some lemonade” Ihtroil h'rfic /Vow, Tho jokers who included a piece of stained Prick among the “geological specimens" which they placed upon tho desk of the professor as objects worthy of his explanatory remarks, re ceived the following reward: Taking up one of the specimens, he said: “This is a specimen of baryta from tho Cheshire mines. This," holding tip another, “is a piece of feldspar from the Portland quarries. And this,” coming to the brick, "is a piece of impudence from some member of the class," Thorn were live of them, and they had assembled in a cigar store near capitol hotel. The subject was in re gard to horse racing. Said a hack driver who was present, “ Talk about your fast time! W hy, I've seen a horse trot a mile in 1.'.H1.” “ Impossible!" said the cigar store proprietor. “Il can’t be done! The best lime I ever heard of was ".IT].” Sdd the hack man, “I’ll bet. you live dollars I can prove what I say,” Taken by the ci gar man, coin put up, and a referee chosen. In a drawling voice the hack man explained to the man of cigars, “Don’t you know, you idiot, that is two minutes and thirty seconds?” Tinning to the stakeholder the tobacco nist then said: “(live him the money; its worth live dollars to know what a fool I am. Simrumnito /ice Factory Pacts, Close confinement, careful attention to all factory work, gives tho operatives palid faces, poor appetite, languid, mis erable feelings, poor blood, inactive liv er, kidneys ami urinary troubles, and all tho physicians and inodicino in tho world cannot help them unless they get rail doors or use Hop Hitters, made of tho purest and host of remedies, and especially for such cases, having abund ance of health, sunshine and rosy cheeks in thorn. None need suffer if they will use them freely. They cost hut a trifle. Hoc another column, -♦ • Kx-Uovkknou Hkymopk uses at his writing table, at Deerfield, the chair which Jong held Daniel Webster, Other treasures owned hy him are divers revolutionary relics and documents ex ecuted in the early days of New York’s settlement. Ile is tho possessor also of a clock JOO years old, which was owned hy General Schuyler, and had a place in tho room occupied hy Hurgoyne after the surrender at Satatoga. ISO. IS.