Vermont phÅ“nix. [volume] (Brattleboro, Vt.) 1834-1955, 1856-05-17

'hese expectations Is ordinarily necessary 10 lead
a college board TO confer degree. But,
learned at length that /, was one Of the Oldest
institutions in the country which, for one, was
led to honor talent and learning, and that as
tonished the pastor in his quiet village home
with the official letter that announced to him that
they had seen fl to recommend him to the world
as fitted TO teach the mysteries Of sacred lheo-
loRy.
But in the library every person in his con-
gregalion loved to pass an hour with the oler-
gyman old and young alike found him their
companion and friend. think he best liked
the presence Of the young; and he would sit
for hours among them, telling quaint old stories
or personal recolieciions, or curious things he
had picked up in his reading, and they never
got tired Of listening to him.
He was widower, bu, no one knew his wife.
He had been the pastor Of that church for forty
years, but no one had ever heard him name her.
He came there man Of middle age. They
asked him If he were married, and he replied
that he was a widowef. That was the only
time il was ever spoken Of. He had minister
ed 10 them for long time; he had baptized
their children and buried their fathers he had
married the young maidens, had counccied their
erring sons, had been father, brother, friend, iu
/ JOY and sorrow had been The constant, stead
fast visitor in days Of affection had watched
with them many nights Of agony had pointed
them often to the far of heaven, where alone
there was rest and peace for even the dwellers
Of that peaceful village, and yet no one had
penetrated the old mans soul, or knew from
what fountain in his own breast he drew those
consultations which experience alone can sup
ply
| Men laugh al love. Men sneer al human af-
lection. Well, let them laugh, let them snecr
There are hours in the experience Of every man
when he longs for the Unfolding Of woman's
arms, for the kisses Of woman's lips, for the
soothing of a woman's voice, with unutterable
longines. Wait for that hour. Do no, at
tempt TO argue with the poor fool Of the world
who IN the ignorance Of bliss, denies its exis-
tence.
1t is not necessary 10 relate the manner in
which became acquainted with the early his
tory Of Doctor Philip winslow. The old man
| think. never knew that | had heard il and
after had become acquainted with it, could
appreciate great many quiet things that he
said, and many more iha, he did.
! ] could understand his long evenings in the
still moonlight, his lonesome walks along the
banks of the river, his smiles while he sat
thinking, his pauses in prayer when he spoke
of reunions Of the other world Doubtless the
starlight of his young love had been sleadfast-
ly shining through all the twilight, years of his
! life.
The first passage in his early life that shall
refer to is letter. Z.
Never again, Philip, never again. My hand
does not tremble as ! write it, my heart does
not beat one pulsation The faster for this letter.
Aftnough this is the end OF many pleasant hopes
many brilliant anticipaiions, yet am very calm
in saying that il mus; be the end. do not
love you. That is all the story. Do not seek
to change my resolution. You will fail and but
increase the pain Of this FINAL separation. So
goodbye, now forever, Philip Winslow, think
no more of Mary Pierson."
lie read il over a second time, but il was the
same cool, deliberate, final answer He stud
led TO exact, il it were possible, some other
meaning out Of the brief sentences. But he
failed in that. He examined the writing to see
if there might not be hesitation in the penman-
ship, some indication Of vacllating thought,
uncertain decision, but he found nothing Of the
sort; every letter was the familiar, firm hand
that he knew Of old-erery curve was regular,
every Cot and cross was 10 its place.
There was one word in which he paused
long. 1t was the word "pain." What did
she mean by that Was i, of herself she spoke
or Of hint Was it painful 10 her thus 10 dis
miss him, because she thought he would suffer
and she did not wish to give pain even to a
worm; or was there no such feeling whatever,
but only the CONVICTION that he would suffer.
and no care on her part whether he did or noti
Whatever it was, il was vain for him 10 seek
any evidence ofa willingness on the part of
Mary Pierson to be sued for any change ofpur-
pose. He knew her heart-the inheritance
from stern old father Of revolutionary times,
which was as firm as a rock in his delermina-
tions-and he yielded, though ii was like vie ID
ing liie-bood to the knife. for she was Of noble
nature, and one from whom it was terrible to
part.
For fifteen years he had loved her with un-
bounded love. They were children together,
had grown together-loved each other all that
time. No, all her observations now could CON
vince him that she had not loved him for those
years and on calm reflection he was satisfied
even now, that she did not know herself, and
that she loved him now. He even smiled nov
when he read her letter again, and saw how
eoolly she said she did not love him. His
smile became bitter when he reflected tina. she
was just as determined, and that even a knowl-
edge Of her own heart would never serve to ef-