Butte record., 1856-01-19

WY ee'tA ~ VI i1i1 o"A'So ~ ~
steadfastly shining through all the
twilight years of his latter life.
The first passage in his early life
that | shall refer to is a letter.
''Never again, Philip, never again,
NV hand does not tremble as | write
it, my heart does not beat one pulsa-
ton the faster for this last letter. Al
though this is the end Of many plea
SAINT hopes, many brilliant antlcipa-
tions, yet | am very calm in saying
that it must 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 good by now
forever, Phillip Winslow. Think no
more of Mary Person."
He read it over "a second time, but
it was the same cool, deliberate, final
answer. He studied it to extract, if
It were possible, some other meaning
out Of the brief sentences. But he
failed in that. He examined the wri-
ting to see if there might not be some
hesitation in the pcnnmanship, some
indication of yacillating thought, un-
certain decision, but he found nothing
Of the sort; every letter was the famil-
lar, firm hand that he knew Of old !;
every curve was regular, every dot
and cross was in It's place.
There was one word on which he
paused lohg. It was the word ''pain."
What did She mean by that! Was it
Of herself she spoke or of him! Was
it painful to her thus to dismiss him,
because she thought he would suffer,
and she did not wish to give pain, even
to a worm; or was there no such feel
ing whatever, but only the conviction
that he would suffer, and no care on
her part whether he did or not?
Whatever it was, it was in vain for
him to seek any evidence of a willing
ness on the part of Mary Pierson to
be sued for any change of purpose
He knew her heart-the inheritance
from a stern old father of revolutionary
times, which was as firm as a rock in
its determinations-and he yielded,
though it was like yielding life-blood
to the knife, for she was of noble ma
ture, and one from whom it was terri
be to part.
For fifteen years he had loved her
with abounding love. They were chill
dren together, had grown up together,
had-he believed it in his heart of
hearts-loyed each other all that time.
She was the daughter of an old sol
der, and was educated to old IDEAS and
old ways. Born of wealthy and
honored family, she was the admir-
alton of the country, but she was not
the admiration of the young men in
the county. She was too cold, too far
above them, too distant and unap-
proachable. She never mingled in their
merry y-makings, never danced at their
balls, seldom joined their winter as
semblies.
She was strange person, altogether,
and yet very lovely. Her soul was
fall Of fresh, out-gushmg feelings that
she did not seek to restrain. Had you
seen her in company, in her own draw
ing-room receiving her guests at the
hour Of morning calls, or in the eve
ming among the gay, most splendidly
attired, sweeping through the crowd
with all the majesty Of a queen, you
would have said she was cold ,haugh-
ty beauty, the creature of fashion and
society, the automaton of the stiffest
rules of social life. But had you seen
her by the fire in the library Of the old
place, when Philip Winslow sat by her
side, and her father dozed in the large
chair, with his claret bottle close to
his hand, you would have called her
the impersonation of mirth and lowell
ness, Of ease and gentle beauty.
But she dismissed Philip Winslow.
And why?
She said it was because she did not
love him. He said it was because she
did not know herself. 1t happened on
this wise:
There was a dinner party at the old
place, known in the county, from the
grove in which the house stood, as
"The Pines The Coloners dinner
invitations were by no means to be de-
clined. He did, it is true, invite a
large majority of bachelors, and there
was danger of a serious headache the
next morning to any one who did not
follow Mary very early from the din
ing-room: but the Colonel's cuisine was
perfect, and his cellar had warm spots
to ripen the Laftte, and cool spots to
make the chambertin delicious.
After one of these dinner parties,
when Mary had left very early and the
gentlemen were at the table still, Phil
ip Winslow followed her up the stair
case, and when she was in the drawing
room. and before she had rung for
lights, he was at her side and led her