Fayetteville observer. [volume] (Fayetteville, Tenn.) 1850-1966, 1851-12-09
Mystery Of the Young Artist:
Or, the French Roll.

of the livefiest streets in London
the New Road and Tottenham Court
Road-crosses each other, stood, and
probably still stands, bakers shop.
Whoever happened to pass this shop
in the autumn remember to have
seen, standing behind the counter, a
maiden Of some eighteen summers,
and of SO rare a loveliness, that, for a
few minutes, the eye perforce must
linger there entranced.
4 cannot understand, Margaret,
said her father to her one day, what
that young man, VI ho passes here
every morning, and whom | take for
a Scotchman, finds to look at in our
shop. For some moments, he never
moves step farther. you know
him?'
NO more than you, father, an
swered the girl.
The baker looked earnestly into
his daughters face, and his scrutiny
deepened the rose upon her cheek.
4 cannot believe that you would
deceive me- said the baker, for you
know how | love you, and how much
your happi ness is the aim of my
lifa A Affnr vour mother died there
would have been nothing left to live
for, if / had not had you, and it
would go hard with me to part with
you. Nevertheless, | say to myself
that you will and must be married
some day; and if you should have a
fancy to this young man
Dearest father interrupted Mar
garet, i have never spoken to him.
nor he to me.
Scarcely had the words passed hel
lips, when the subject Of their dis.
course hastily entered the shop, and
asked for a French roll. There was
nothing unusual in this request, moth
ing necessarily embarrassing in it
and yet the hand with which Marga-
ret presented the roll to him trem-
bled, and her whole appearance de-
noted that she had not been SO in
different to his silent homage as heI
answers to her father seemed to in
dieate. Was she deficient in conf
dence or sinceritya In neither
Margaret loved her father from hel
very heart, and knew not what dis
stimulation was; but what girl Of
eighteen will own that she Encies
herself beloved? The stranger, on
his side, apparently, had no idea q
the iisquietnde he excited; for, hav-
| ing received the roll, he laid the
money upon the counter, and left the
shop. ia
Henceforward the young man came
regularly every. morning and pur-
chased a, French roll; and though nc
words passed between him and the ba-
ker's fair daughter, Margaret secret
! ly owned that her interest in him In
creased every day. His face was
one of those which strike one invol,
unfairly. Though toe pale and care
worn to be called handsome, his large
soft eyes beamed with so much truth
and tenderness, that they might vel
touch a harder heart than Marga.
ret's.
is it not st range that young
fellow, whose whole dress and appear
ance betray unHistakeable poverty
should be so extraAagant as to eat
nothing but FRENCH rolls remarked
the baker, casually, to his daughter
one day, just after the stranger had
! made his morning purchase. 'Fol
the same money, he could buy a
| large substantial loaf, which would
| hast him twice as long
Margaret was silent. She felt
that her father was right, but she
could not blame the youth, even in
thought.
About three weeks had elapsed
since the baker had first questioned
his daughter about theyoung Scotch
main, when one morning, as they
we're alone in the shop, the stranger
hastily entered, bearing in his hand
a fiat packet. He laid it. silently on
the counter. and, unloosing the string,
held up to. the astonished gaze oi the ne
baker picture Of his daughter II
was in crayons, the colorlngs most
delicate. and the likeness 50 perfect,
that the father surprise was lost IN
admiration.
Does it please your stamered the
artist, after a short pause, during