The spirit of democracy. [volume] (Woodsfield, Ohio) 1844-1994, 1855-11-07

did not give way, the effort was not sue
cessful
al won't hurt you," whispered Ben;
"you are the last being in the world to
hurt"
Whether Mary lacked confidence in his
veracity cannot say; but she made an
other effort to get further off, which re-
suited, as such womanly efforts often do
in q closer contact
"They are in the clothes-press," said
the voice above alluded to. "Thcy are
not up stairs, and they are not down eel
lar, nor in the long room, nor pantry, nor
anywhere else, and so they must be here -
1t was at length suggested to the seeker,
who remained at the door of the press,
that he should examine the premises in
question, and thus test the truth of the
reasonings, which suggestion he proceed
ed to act upon. AS he was entering, Miss
Mills made an effort to pass out, and as
Ben made an effort to detain her till they
were fairly discovered, there was strug-
gle, during which Mary's check came very
near Ben's face. In considering the mat
ter at subsequent period, when he was
cool, and consequently his judgement un-
biased, he remarked to himself-confden-
TALLY, of course-"It is reasonable to
suppose that, under the circumstances of
the case must have kissed her-indeed
l have very little doubt about tin fact,
l remember it distinctly"
There is always some considerable ex-
citement connected with the breaking up
of party like the one under considera-
ton. There is always some embarrass-
ment among the rustic gentlemen when
bonnet and shawl time comes. He who
can walk up boldly to lady and proffer
his services to see her home, is regarded
with envy. Now Miss Mary Mills, as l
have said, was always behind some body,
and of course, she would not be one OF
the first to receive an offer of attendance
home. 1t happened On this occasion, that
she was the last one accessible, and that
Ben was left to go with her. 1t was with
more than ordinary embarrassment that
he offered his arm, and, though she ac-
cepted it, she kept at very respectable
distance from him as they walked along
towards her mothers humble dwelling.
Ben felt that he had great deal that he
wanted to say to her, but did not know
what to begin with He thought of say.
ing 1.-The moon is most down." but, as
they were walking towards the west, il
was to be presumed that she was already
as we'll convinced of that fact as she would
be after his most solemn assertion. He
thought of many other things, but in eve.
ry case some valid objection presented
itself, so that, though they had half 9
mile to walk, they reached the door stone
before word was spoken. Ben began
to grow desperate, and at length succeed
ed in by no means musical Tone "Shall
you be at home tomorrow evening!''
"No, I am going away tomorrow,
said she, in a voice so sweet and plaintive
that mist gathered over Ben's eyes.
"Where to!" said he, too much inter.
ested in the matter to pay much attention
to the manner of his phrase
"To Western New York"
How long are you going to stay?"
It'll next spring"
"What for!'
i "To teach school. Ny mothers health
is too feeble to work as she does / am
offered as much as we can both make by
our needles here. She is to board this
winter and not take in any work, but take
care of her health"
Don't 60"
al must!
"You must not-I-I--.'' There Is
no telling what Ben might have said, il
the door had not opened, and Mrs. Mill:
had not appeared.
Good night" said Mary.
"Good night" said Ben; and he went
to pass sleepless night.
The next morning he went early to
Mrs. Mills; under pretence of purchasing
her corn.
"Why did you not tell me sooner that
you were going!" said he to Mary.
II told you as soon as it came natural
for me to do so. / did not suppose you
felt any particular interest in my move.
ments."
"But I do, and l can't bear to have
you go"-and o tear broke out of bounds
and ran across his cheek.
! "The stage has come" said Mrs
Mills.
Goodbye, mother" giving her fer
vent embrace. Goodbye, Guile" ex-
tending her hand.
Ben walked by her side to the stage,
saying, on the way. "Take care of your.
self, and don't feel uneasy about your
mother. I will take as good care of hel
as if she were my own mother" Mary
gave him look of thanks, which as he
afterwards said, he got framed and hung
up in his memory. He kept his promise
in Mrs. Mills. Perhaps he made heI
write to her daughter little more fre.
quently than was perfectly convenient, but
the accounts of his fidelity to his promise
which the letters contained, prepared Mary
on her return in the spring, to consent to
his having legal right to call Mrs. Mills
mother-a right which he assumed in ad-