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AN OLD TIME GIRL
>
'So U seems Fred Hayes has finally
^orie jilted Fanny Howe." said Grandpa West,
rainy morning, as he stood shaking off
■the drops from his great coat on our
[kitchen “Yes." stove replied 1.
as I filled a pan with
'apples and prepared to cut them, “and
more shame to him. too Brought her
clear to an engagement, and then left
town with another girl, and without oue
word to Fan ”
t ‘Shame'’ repeated good Grandpa West,
with an indignant Hash from eyes blue
and clear as at 21, “it's a disgrace to any
Christian church to let one of its members
go on so 'time was when he wouldn’t
Lave gone scot free, as he has uow."
“But what could have been done?” I in
q aired
“Bone? He'd have had the full broad
side of church discipline on his shoulders
fifty years ago Lie ought to be dealt
with as Harmon Page was,” concluded
grandpa meditatively
How was that?” inquired I, interested
at once
"I wonder if you’ve never heard that
story 1 ' said he. with a curious glance I
understood better afterward. “See here,
.......
ex
‘Yon see he began, “all this hap
P p ried fifty years ago, and Amityville
wasn t then the slow going, dull little
place it is now It was comparatively
new and was as lively and enterprising as
the ne*w places of the west are today
'i here were a good many old aristocratic
tain then though, and I tell you they held
then heads high The very meetin’house
slips had to be gauged accordin’ to the
rank of the buyer and 1 tell you old Dea
coij Avery would never have got the scowl
out of his forrard if Squire Page b/ixlJUap*
pened to have a seat in front of his
‘Beacon Avery had a daughter, aquiot,
gentle girl, with a slight, graceful figure,
and a face—well, you don’t see such faces
now days—a clear, fine complexion, with
a delicate pink trembling up to her lips
when she was spoken to Her eyes were
great limpid wells, changing with every
thought and her hair was a soft chestnut
waving about her face in its own
w ard style
“She was a iovely girl, became a pro
lessor young and was always to bo seen
the end of tire deacon's pew every Sun
ram or shine She never had much
for there was a kind of dignified
reserve about her that kept the fellows at
o distance But when she was long ’bout
1* or 20 Harmon Page began to go with
her
•‘He was a handsome, high spirited
chap lively and full of talk, and as dif
fereut from Mercy Avery as two persons
web could be But they loved each other;
there I s no doubt her about grand that. Many’s sparkle and the
time ve seen eyes
pretty cheeks flush at Harmon’s witty
speeches till she was really brilliant. And
he with his proud spirit, always grew
strangely gentle with Mercy
•So m spite of the rivalry that had al
existed between the two families, no
one would have disturbed the two had it
not been for Virginia Wake. She was a
cousin of Col Ford's first wife, and came
there visitin from the south,
“Virginia was called a handsome girl,
with her brunette face, flashing black
eyes and heavy black curls she was never
tired of jingling around her neck. She
had a good deal, too. of what you call
sU’le, and Amityville folks who didn’t
know as much of the ways of the world
as they do now were completely fasci
nated with her taking ways The young
^ehows in particular hovered around her
line moths around a candle.
• All except Harmon Page. He had en¬
gaged himself to Mercy, and at first gave
t he newcomer the go by. The Pages and
Fords had a family feud of a good many
years standing which kep them apart
f >i one lb mg. and Virginia cr ad plenty o
company besides Hannon.
“But l suppose Harmon’s Indifference
| piqued boys rt £.£* her charms Har¬
ai o on
mon
“She came in the fall, and along about
Christmas time the neighbors began to
notice that Virginia was mighty thick at
the Pages'
“The two houses were pretty near to
gether, ami she used to run over- to
Mother Page’s on some excuse or other
twenty limes a day Perhaps t wa’nt
strange that Harmon began to be flattered
by it Hu had as good a turnout as any
chap in the place, and he got iu the habit
of “You taking Virginia considerable
see, position’s everything in more
cases than one, and Virginia was right
there handy, while Mercy lived at the top
of one of our old fashioned Connecticut
hills, with a dreadful hard road leading
to it.
“Whether she knew how much Harmon
was taking the other gi rl was not known,
some thought not. el he didn t get out
much, except to meetin’, that winter, and
she had enough of her father’s spunk
about her not to let on that she saw Har¬
mon foolin’ with Virginia Wake at the
noonin s
“There was splendid sleighing that sea
son—the kind we don’t havo these days—
and some of the young folks wanted to
have a general sleigh ride, it was put off
from time to time, till ’twas finally set for
one Thursday night.
“It was the night of the regular weekly
prayer meeting, and after the time of the
ride was all settled Harmon, who was the
only professor in the party, tried a little
to have it changed. But Virginia Wake
declared, with a wicked shake of those
jingling curls, that she could say her
prayers just 03 well in as sleigh as she
a id barn of a
meeting house.
fixed “Everybody rid thought afterward she
the e for that night to show
Mercy Avery the power she had over Har
mou “Well, Page
the party started from Amity
ville Tong about five o’clock. They were
all in a b;g two horse load, except Vir
ginia and Hannon
“She Jt>»d arranged for them to go ahead
in his Gutter alone, and I’ll admit the l
were a splendid looking couple—he wit
his fine eyes and teeth, and she in a rich
crimson hood that set off her dark beauty
to perfection.
“Our route—for I was one of the party
— lay straight up the hill toward Deacon
Avery’s Just as we turned into it who
should we meet but the deacon and Mercy
“They were late, for the meeting was
alus appointed for early candle lighting
but Mercy had probably waited awhile for
Hannon, who, for a year back, had taken
her to Thursday meeting as regular as tho
day come round. straight
“She sat up and queenly, be
side her father, as they passed, and seemed
not to hear the malicious sally Virginia
called out to her
“We, in the back team, were near
enough threw to catch those the deep scornful glance she
from eyes, gray as steel
that night.
“As for Harmon, he turned white to
the lips, and for a mile hardly answered
the banter tl*at Virginia kept up. After
that he seemed to grow perfectly reckless,
laughed and joked louder than anv of .the
rest, and was so careless that ho dro ve on
a stone wall; and we, following, were all
upset in a heap together, ana had hard
work to get tied up so as to make our
way home toward morning, more dead
than alive.
“It was a sorry day for Harmon Page
He was waited upon by a church com
mittee headed by Deacon Avery, who de
nounced his whole conduct toward Mercy
as unchristian and highly inconsistent in
a church member.
“He didn’t have much to say for him
self, and they churched him on the spot
He was pretty down in the mouth, but
kept up some hope till ho saw Mercy
A very
“He had refused to see Virginia Wake,
and that night he went up the familiar
hill to Deacon Avery’s stone house.
"Mercy herself came to the door, calm
and self possessed, as if nothing had hap
pened. and showed him into the sitting
room There was a steady light in hei i
gray eyes though, that made Harnon.
tremble, and. without beating about the
bush a bit, he came right to the pouit.
and asked if all murhfc be forgiven and
forgotten and they become as good
as before He worked himself into a pas
sion. cried and took on like a child, they
said
“But, law! it didn't move her an atom
She had the genuine old Avery grit,
she was mild mannered, and she told him
that, as long as the church had put
out. she, of course, couldn't take
back
“Ho pleaded and entreated until
o’clock at night, a late hour in them days,
but it didn’t make a mite of difference
Sko wouldn’t overlook what the church
had considered a gross breach of faith
lie went out a crushed man, and from
that time his spirit seemed to leave him
utterly ”
“And what about Virginia Wake?” 1
interrupted, unconsciously cutting my
finger in my eager interest.
“Oh. after the girl had done all tho
possible, public opinion toward
her changed ’mazin’ quick, and slio left
town in a few days, and wa3 uover heard
from in these parts again ”
“And lianuou Page, what became of
him?"
“He never got over tho shock. Ho be
came silent and melancholy, and finally
had to be taken to the retreat He grew
worse, with and the sight of a handsome woman
red cheeks and black curls would
always throw him Into his most violent
tantrums He died in the asylum at
“Now, 1 think that was real mean,”
£, wrath fully winding cotton around my
bleeding thumb “If Mercy Avery hadn’t
turned him off bl» lifo might not
ended so sadly I think she ought to
taken him back. ”
“Ah, ha I” said Grandpa West, quizzi
cally; “do vou mean that?”
“Certainly,” said l, with dignity, “why
shouldn’t 1 r
“Oh, nothing.” he repliod; “only If she
had, Harmon Pago would have been your
grandfather “My instead of mo."
grandfather—why, “Marcy then,” said 1 in
some confusion, Avery must
be”
“Mercy West, your grandmother,” said
grandpa, chucking mo under the chin.
“Confess now that ‘all’s well that
well » M
“I suppose so,” said I reluctantly.—
New England Magazine.
THE SWORD OF HARRY LEE.
ptroin “Personal aiul Political Ballads,” a raro
of the war era, In possession of Charles St.
84 Park row, New York.]
An aged man, all bowed and worn,
Sat by his hearthstone old;
Beside liim sat, with
reverent mien,
A youth all pro<»l
and bold.
ITe listens with rapt
eagerness
To the old man’s
every word;
4 ? One aged hand rests
s on his head,
« The other grasjjs a
■fs-vA sword.
> i “My boy,” the gray
haired patriot
said,
“A precious legacy
I give into your keeping now—
The sword of Harry Lee!
Ah, how we loved that noble chief—
A hero grand was lie;
No craven thought eVr filled the heart
Of Light Horse Harry loo.
One day—it all comes back again,
Though I am old and gray—
The battle had raged long and fierce,
For we would not give way.
Our chieftain at the legion’s head
Rode on exultingly,
When a red coat vile his saber raised
To murder Harry Lee.
I dashed before the hero bold,
Right in the deadly strife;
I clove the Hessian to the earth
And saved brave Harry’s life.
That night he grasped my wearied hand,
The Hush was on hia cheek,
The tears stood in his manly eyes,
His voice was hoarse and weak.
He gave me his own trusty sword,
*That oft had led the free;
He told me I must wear it for
The sake of Harry Lee.
Ah, boy! that was a happy night,
For proud he well might bo
Who e’er deserved such heartfelt prat'd
From Light Horse Harry Lee.
I wore this blade all through the war,
And when the storm was o'er,
I kept it bright and free from rust
As in the du\ s of yore.
Put whets the British came again.
To threat us with their might;
I buckled on the good okl sword
And wore it through the fight.
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Ami when the soft, sweet, southern breeze.
From tropic regions far,
Came kulen with the clash of arms
And thrilling notea of war,
Ltook the old sword from its place,
With tears of honest pride,
And buckled it right gladly l»y
Your gallant father's side.
ITe bore it manfully and well
In regions far away;
It Hushed o’er Palo Alto’s plains
And sunny Monterey.
It never wns laid down in shame—
(Sod grant 1 ne’er may see,
One l»a.se blot on the shining blade
Of Light Horst* Hurry Lee.
•Now. boy, I draw this sword again—
Alas, that it. must be,
That 1 must count as foes t he sons
Of those who fought with me.
My limbs are old and feeble now.
Ami silvered is my hair;
1 cannot v. ield this ravoid, and so
1 givo it to your care.
Today I raw your ncblo chief,
Anil, ah, I seemed f<» see.
Erect again before me stand
The form of Harry Leo.
That same bright eye, that noble form,
That bearing light and free;
Ah, J os, he’s like his noble sire,
This son of Harry Loo.
Now go and do your duty, boy,
You bear no coward’smune;
And a ; you dread your gramb ire’sciirve,
Ne’er sully it w i* h shame.
And I, as long as life remains,
Within ti.is bosom free,
Will iisk (iod’s biessing t :i you, find
Thu son of Hurry Ian.'.
Ja::lh i>. McCabu.
ViCKSBUiio, May, 1KC3.
In 1880 there were not more than 5.000
Jews In the Holy iaind Now there are
more than 30.000, of whom a considerable
nuuibei are wealthy or well to do.
TO. Pasteur on VIvineet Ion.
A Texan who was horribly bitten by a
mad wolf went to Parts some weeks since
for treatment by Pasteur He is return¬
ing cured Parting with his overjoyed pa¬
tient Pasteur said “I ask one favor use
your ow n influence to stop the silly senti
mental crusade against vivisection With¬
out vivisection the world will be deprived
of half the benefits of science ” Thu slow
dissection of a living animal is a repulsive
thing to think of But so was dissection
of any kind once. Many accidents have
contributed to the advance of medicine in
a knowledge of the living body which
cadavers could not give Pasteurs ex
peri merit s would be worthless without
experiments on living animals it now
begins to be admitted that resistance to
vivisection is as futile ajtid wrong as it
was to dissection of dead human bodies
hundreds of years ago And yet there is
enough unscientific sentimentalism yet
existing to retard progress by means of
vivisection. Hence Pasteur's appeal to
Americans in behalf of science, which he
concludes with the pregnant question
“Who shall say that man must sacrifice
the good of his kind because of the possible
gain to an infinites; vial portion of a lower
race?” Just such appeals were once made
in favor of ordinary dissection. —Cbieaga
Times.