Below is the OCR text representation for this newspapers page.

The rose oil her cheek had rather freshened than faded and her smile was the very same that first Subdued my heart; but her fine form was wholly lost,, and, with it, aill the grace of her movements. Pleasing hut melancholy reflections occupied my mind as I gazed on her dispens ing her cheerful hospitalities. I thought of the sad history of many of her companions and mine, who need to carry light hearts through the meny dance. I compared my after life with the cloudless days of tny attachment to Polly. Then I was light 'hearted, gay> iconte|ite|d, and happy. I aspired to nothing but a good name, a good Wife, and an easy competence. The first and last were mine already; and Polly had given me too many little tokens of her fa vour to leave a doubt now that the second Was at my command. But I was foolishly told that my talents were of too high an order to be em ployed in the drudgeries of a farm, and t more lool'shly believed it. I forsook the pleasure which 1 had tried and proved, and went in pursuit of those imaginary joys which seem ed to encircle the seat of Fame. From that moment to the present, my life had been little else than one unbrok en scene of disaster, disappointment, vexation, and toil. And now, when I was too old to enjoy the pleasures which I had discarded, I found that my aim was absolutely hopeless; and that my pursuits had only served to unfit me for the humbler walks of life, and to exclude me from the higher. The gloom of these reflec tions was, however, lightened in a measure by the promises of the com ing hour, when I was to live over again with Mrs. Gibson some of the happiest moments of my life. After a hasty repast the young people returned to their amusement, followed by myself, with several of the elders of the company. An hour had scarcely elapsed before Mrs. Gibson accompanied by a goodly number of matrons of her own age. This accession to the com pany produced its usual effects. It raised the tone of conversation a full, octave, and gave it a triple time movement; added new life to the wit and limbs of the young folks, and set the old men to cracking jokes. At length the time arrived for me to surprise and delight Mrs. Gibson. The young people insisted upon the old folks taking a reel, and this was just what I had been waiting for: for, after many plans for making the discovery, I had finally concluded up on that which I thought would make her joy general among the company: and that was to announce myself, just before leading her to the dance, in a voice audible to most of the as sembly. I therefore readily assent ed to the proposition of the young folks, as did two others of my age, and we made to the ladies for our partners. I, of course, offered my hand to Mrs. Gibson. “Come,” said I “Mrs. Gibson, let us see if we can’t outdance these young people.” “Dear me, sir,” said she, “I haven’t danced a step in twenty years! ’ ’ “Neither have I; but I’ve resolved to try once more, if you will join me, just for old time’s sake.” “I really cannot think of danc ing,” said she. . “Well,” continued I (raising my -voice to a pretty high pitch, on pur pose to be beard, while my counte nance kindled with exultation at the astonishment and delight which I was about to produce), “you surely will dance with an old friend and sweetheart, who used to dance with you when a girl! ’ ’ At this disclosure her features as sumed a vast variety of expressions; but none of them responded precisely to my expectations; indeed, some of them were of such an equivocal and alarming character, that I deemed it advisable not to prolong her sus pense. I therefore proceeded: “Have you forgotten your old sweetheart, Abram Baldwin?” “What!” said she, looking more astonished and confused than ever. “Abram Baldwin! Abram Baldwin! I don't think I ever heard the name before.” “Do you remember Jim Johnson?” said I. “Oh, yea,” said she, “mighty well,” het countenance brightening with a smile. “And Bill Martin?” “Yes, perfectly well; why, who are you ? ’ ’ Here we. were interrupted by one of the gentlemen, who had led his partner to the floor, with, “Come, stranger, we’re getting mighty tired o* standing. It won’t do for old people that’s going to dance to take up much time in standing; they’ll lose all their spryness. Don’t stand begging Polly Gibson, she never dances; but take my Sal there, next to her; she’ll run a reel with you, to old Nick’s house and back agin.” No alternative was left me, and therefore I offered my hand to Mrs. Sally—l didn’t know who. “Well,” thought I, as I moved to my place, “the squire is pretty se cure from jealousy; but Polly will soon remember me when she sees my steps in the reel. I will dance pre cisely as I used to in my youth, if it tire me to death.” There was one step that was almost exclusively my own, for. few of the dancers of my day could perform it at all, and none with the grace and ease that I did. “She’ll remember Abram Baldwin,” thought I, “as soon as she sees the double crosshop.” It was performed by rising and crossing the legs twice or thrice be fore lighting, and I used to carry it to the third cross with considerable ease. It was a step solely adapted to setting or balancing, as all will perceive; but I thought the occasion would justify a little perversion of it, and therefore resolved to lead off with it, that Polly might be at once relieved from suspense. Just, how ever, as I reached my place, Mrs. Gibson’s youngest son, a boy about eight years old, ran in and cried out, “Mammy, old Boler’s jumped upon the planks, dragged off a great hunk o’ meat as big as your head, ahid broke a <Jish and tiwo plates all to darn smashes!” Away went Mrs. Gibson, and off went the music. Still I hoped that matters would be adjusted in time for Polly to return and see the -double cross hop; and I felt the mortification which my delay in getting a partner had occasioned somewhat solaced by THE WEEKLY JEFFERSONIAN. the reflection that it had thrown me at the foot of the rest. The first and second couples had nearly completed their performances, and Polly had not returned. I be gan to grow uneasy, and to interpose as many delays as I could without attracting notice. The six reel is closed by the foot couple balancing at the head of the set, then in the middle, then at the foot, again in the middle, meeting at the head, and leading down. My partner and I had commenced balancing at the head, and Polly had not returned. I balanced until my partner forced me on. I now deem ed it advisable to give myself up wholly to the double crosshop; so that, if Polly should return in time to see any step, it should be this, though I was really nearly exhaust ed. Accordingly,) I macfe the at tempt to introduce it in the turns of the reel; but the first! experiment convinced me of three things at once: Ist. That I could not have used the step in this way in my best days; 2d. That my strength would not more than support it in its proper place for the remainder of the reel; and, 3d. If I tried it again in this way, I should knock my brains out against the puncheons; for my part ner, who seemed determined to con firm her husband’s report of her, evinced no disposition to wait upon experiments; but fetching me a jerk while I was up and my legs crossed, had wellnigh sent me head foremost to Old Nick’s house, sure enough. We met in the middle, my back to the door, and from the silence that prevailed in the yard, I flattered my self that Polly might be even now catching the first glimpse of the fa vourite step, when I heard her voice at some distance from the house: —--- “Get you gone! G-e-e-e-t you gone! G-e-e-e-eeet you gone!” Matters out doors were now clearly explained. There had been a struggle to get the meat from Boler; Boler had triumph ed, and retreated to the woods with his booty, and Mrs. Gibson was heap ing indignities upon him in the last resort. The three “ Get-you-gones ” met me precisely at the three closing balances; and the last brought my moral energies to a perfect level with my physical. Mrs. Gibson returned, however, in a few minutes after, in a good hu mour; for she possessed a lovely dis position, which even marriage could not spoil. As soon as I could col lect breath mo ugh for regular con versation (for, to speak in my native dialect, I was “mortal tired”), I took a seat by her, resolved not to quit the house without making my self known to her, if possible. “How much,” said I, “your Pol ly looks and dances like you used to, at her age.” “I’ve told my old man so a hun dred times,” said she. “Why who upon earth are you!” “Did you ever see two persons dance more alike than Jim Johnson and Sammy Tant?” “Never. Why, who can you be!” “You remember Becky Lewis?” “Yes!” “Well, look at Chloe Dawson, and you’ll see her over again.” “Well, law me! Now I know I must tnave seen you somewhere; but, to save my life, I can’t tell where.. Where did your father live?” “He died when I was small/’ “And where did you used tto sme; me?” “At your father’s, and old Mr;. Dawson’s, and at Mrs. Barnes’s, and' at Squire Noble’s, and many other places.” “Well, goodness me! It’s mighty strange I can’t call you to my mind.’ I now began to get petulant, and thought it best to leave her. The dance wound up with the old merry jig, and the company dispers ed. The next day I set out for my r nt- - idence. I had been at home rather more than two months, when I re ceived the following letter from Squire Gibson: “Dear Sir: I send you the mon ey collected on the notes you left with me. Since you left here, Pol ly has been thinking about old times, and she says, to save her life, she can’t recollect you.” BALDWIN. Sir William White, who till recently was Director of Naval Construction of Great Britain, began life as a ship wright’s apprentice, but his genius carried hmi up the ladder with a rapidity which startled his fellow workers. He nearly lost his life once through taking an experimental trip with a submarine boat which on be ing submerged stuck in the mud. It was only after furious work with the pumps that he was rescued. (For The Jeffersonian.) THE RAILROADS. By James Walker Heatherley. Pile up the dollars Up to the sky, No matter what follows, Pile ’em up high! A boy on duty, Fifteen years old. Oh, it’s a thing of beauty! Pile up the gold. An Engineer sleeping, Out on the way, Widows and orphans weeping The very next day. A great disaster: Half a hundred die, Pile ’em up faster, Pile ’em up high. A great collision: Oh, pitiful cry! The company’s decision; Pile ’em up high. As high as a steeple Up to the sky: To hell with the people, Pile ’em high! Slumbering republic, Your life’s at stake. Oh, when will the public And voters awake? Bryan on his world trip Saw what we need: 'Government ownership. May it succeed. Pile up the dollars, Lay the cash by. To hell with sorrows: Pile ’em up high! 5