Yorkville enquirer. [volume] (Yorkville, S.C.) 1855-2006, 1856-09-18

Something was evidently brewing in that oil
head. What could it be? And then, too
at home he looked so curiously. The Irisl
servant was puzzled. "Sure," said James
'ssomething's coming" Annie, too, wa
somewhat perplexed, for those looks dwell
much on her.
"What is it, father ?" she said to him ON
morning at the breakfast table, as he sa
gazing s.eadfastly in her face; "what is it
Do iel! me-"
81 wish you'd have him." burst forth lik'
an avalanche. eKnown him for six years
true as ledger-a gentleman-real sensible
man-don't talk much-regular as clocl
prime for business-worth his weight il
gold" ....
"Have who, father? What are you talk
ing about ?"
"My head clerk, Copeland-you dom
know him-I do-haven't seen anybody else
worth an old quill"
Annie was puzzled. She laughed, how
ever, and said: "Marry my fathers clerk
what would people say ?"
'.Humbug, child, all humbug--worth forty
Of your whiskered, lounging, lazy gentry
say what they please what do I care ? what
do you care what's money after all go1
enough of it-want sensible man-want
somebody to take care of it; all humbug.' u
"What's all humbug, father?"
"Why, peoples notions on these matters
Copeland is poor-so was 1 once-may be
again; worlds full of changes-seen a great
many of them in my day-can't stay here
long-got to leave you, Annie-wish you'd d
like him.
"Father, are you serious ?'
"Serious. child" And he looked so.
Annie was chip of the old block; a
strong minded, resolute girl. A new idea
seemed to strike her.
"Father, if you are really serious in this
matter, I'll see this Copeland; I'll get &C.
quainted with him. If he likes me and I
like him, I'll have him. But he shall love
me for myself alone; must know it. Will
you leave the matter to me 7"
$50 ahead, my child, and do as you like.
Good morning"
"Stop moment, father I shall altar my
name little; I shall appear to be poor
girl, companion of our friend, Mrs. Rich
ards, in H street, she shall know the
whole affair; you shall call me by my middle
name, Peyton; I shall be relative of yours;
you shall suggest the business to Mr.. Cope
land, as you call him, and arrange for the
first interview. The rest will take care for
ITSELF"
ri see, I see;'' and one of those rare
smiles illuminated his whole face. 1t actu-
ally got between his lips, parted them asun-
der, glanced upon set of teeth but little
the worse for wear, and was resting there
when he left the house for his counting room.
The twilight of that smile was not yet gone
when he reached the well known spot, and
bowed and looked "good morning" to those
in his employ, for old Paul was, after his
fashion, polite man. On the morning of
that day, what looks we're directed to our
friend Charles so many, so peculiar, so full
of something, that the head clerk could not
but notice them, and that, too, with some
alarm. What was coming? At last the
volcano burst forth:
"Copeland, my good fellow, why don't
you get wife {"
Had thunderbolt fallen at his feet, he
could not have been more astounded. Did
Mr.. Bremen say that, and in the counting
room, too? The very ledger seemed to
blush at the introduction of such a subject.
He for the first time made blot on the fair
pages before him.
~ say-why don't you get wife ?-know
just the thing for you-prime article-poor
enough, to be sure-what of that-a fortune
in wife, you know-a sort of relation of
mine-don't want to meddle with other peo-
ple's affairs, know your own business best
can't help thinking you'll be happier must
see her"
Now the fact is, that Charles had for some
time past thought so himself; but how the
old man should have completely OWNED his
feelings, was quite puzzle to him. In the
course of the day note was put into Mr..
Bremen's hands by James, his Irish servant,
the contents of which produced another
grim sort of a smile. When the moment
for his return home arrived, Mr.. B. handed
sealed document of rather imposing form
to Charles, saying
"Copeland, you'll Cblige me by leaving
that at No. 67 H-street. Place it only
in the hands of the person to whom it is
directed; don't want to trust it to any one
else."
The clerk saw on the outside, "Mrs. Rich
ards, 81 H-street." The door bell was
rung. The servant ushered Copeland into
small, neat parlor, where sat lady appar-
emily twenty-five or thirty years of age, plain
ly dressed, engaged in knitting stocking.
Our friend bowed, and inquired for Mrs.
Richards.
"She is not in, but is expected presently;
will you be seated 2" There was an ease
and quietness, and an air of self-command
about this person, which seemed peculiar to
Copeland. He felt at ease at once, (you al
ways do with such people, made some COM
mon-place remark, which was Immediately
responded to; then another; and soon the
conversation grew so interesting that Mrs.
Richards was nearly forgotten. Her alb
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