Orleans independent standard. [volume] (Irasburgh, Vt.) 1856-1871, 1856-10-31


ing as corresponding clerk to the firm
in Bombay.
/ shall not stop long enough to relate
how many times he went to the exhibi-
tion of yenomous looking cobra de CO.
pellOs, biting Sepoys, just for fun, and to
show how innocent the beauties were,
and how easy their bite was cured how
often he visited the far-famed Elephant
caves how many times he dined with
Sir Robert Grant, the Governor of Bonn
bay, and how he was with him, and what
he said, the very morning of the day the
old scourge-the cholera-made the ex-
cellent Sir Robert his victim; all these
things 1 shall leave to another time and
more appropriate heading. I skip over
all these, and six years of time beside
and land Master Walter at Staten Is
land, bring him up to the city in steam
boat, and leave him at respectable
hotel, and there let him sleep all night,
and Jake good shore rest after a
tedious voyage of four months or more.
The next morning we awaken him,
make him get up, pay his bill, take a
hack, and ride down to the New Haven
steamboat, and go on board. 1t is seven
o'clock, a. m. At one p. M, the boat
has reached the landing his trunks and
traps are on board the Litchfeld stage;
he has taken a seat inside; his destina-
ton is an intermediate village. He is
alone in the stage; no, not alone-there
is an old woman on the front seat, and a
Presbyterian clergyman on the middle
seat. The stage is up in the city, and
slowly meandering about New Haven
town, picking up passengers, who have
sent their names to the stage office, as is
still customary in that staid and sober
city of mineralogy, theology and other
'ologies in general. The stage Jehu pulls
up at the door of a neat little cottage in
Chapel street to take up passenger-a
young lady of sweet seventeen or there
about. Before she has got fairly inside,
Walter has noticed her, and she has no
1 ticed him, too. He gazes with astonish-
ment at the perfect vision of loveliness
before him he hasn't seen anything of
the kind for some years. There is not a
particle of copper about her. She, on
her part, half laughing, has regarded
him very attentively; brushes back the
golden ringlets that almost shut in her
face, and takes another look, as if to be
certain that she has made no mistake.
Here is a seat, Miss, beside me,
said the gospel preacher.
q Thank you, sir, but 1 prefer sitting
on the back seat with that gentleman, il
he win let me" said the most electrical
voice that Walter has listened to fol
some time.
Certainly, Miss" said the delighted
Bombayite and when she seated her.
self by him, she gazed into his face witt
a kind of mixed up delight and astonish
ment, that Walter actually took looE
down upon himself, to ascertain wha
there was about his person that appeared
to be SO pleasing TO the fair maiden; bu
he discovered nothing unusual. Tht
stage rolled on towards Derby, at it
usual rapid rate of five miles an hour
and Walter and the merry maid SCENE,
as chatty and cozy together as though
they had known each other for years in
stead of minutes. The minister tried t.
engage the ringlets in conversation, bu
he soon found himself nowhere Sh
had neither eyes nor ears for anybod
= but Walter /; and he had told her NOR
about his travels, and Bombay scenery
than he ever told anybody else, befor
! or since.
t AT last they came TO Derby. Thei
horses had to be changed, and four fres
/ skeletons were harnessed and tackled o
, to the old stage. Walter handed tn
E gentle girl back to her old seat as grace
! lully as he could have done had he neve
G lived in Bombay, but alway stopped
q New York. They were alone now; tn
r minister and the old woman had got OF
at Derby.
"Well, we're are off once more ho
far are you going ?" said Walter, as IL
stage went Of
" Not quite as far as Litchfeld. Yc
say that your friends reside at Pompe
any. How glad they win be to 81
you."
II " Very probable, unless they have 70
; gotten me, which is likely, for l suppoa
d have altered some in seven years.
+" Not particle, L"
u The pretty maid forgot what she WI
'' going to say, but at last remembered. ar
sr continued