Belmont chronicle. [volume] (St. Clairsville, Ohio) 1855-1973, 1858-04-22

warning of the unexpected guest. Sh,
laughed heartily when told her that Mr.
Fitz Foom had arrived with his carpet-bag;
4 which relieved me, for expected she wouL
8e yexed to death. =. .ts-
"Well, well, Lucy who'd have thoughtit
III guess | shall not let you 90 to the city
again. Never mind about the dinner, child
IN get it on the people without further help
Go and put on your merino dress, and d.
the best you can to be polite to him.
} made nice custard, and SEE it to cool
ard there was plump pair of chickens il
the oven; SO | gave myself no uneasines'
about the table. Ten minutes sufficed me
in which to don my dress, smooth my hair
and put on a linen collar. When returned
to the keeping-rooul, there sat the visitor
looking disconsoiaiey out of the window, q
very visible shade of disappointment upor
his face. sYou'ye a;yery.pretty place here
Miss Lucy, but not at all what expected
from the description of your uncle. He gave
me to understand that the house was Gre
clan villa, standing in the midst of noble
forest Of oaks, with park stretching aw ay
upon one side, and with out buildings and
gateways Of the most tasteful and appro.
pirate character" he remarked. 81 could
hardly persuade myself that had been di-
rected aiight-not that everything is not
very nice, indeed, but so different, you know,
from what had been led to expect
,"Uncle Wilmot has very vivid ina gina
tion, Mr.. Fitz Foom; and you must make al
lowance for its exercise. It's only one of
his standing jokes, calling this Greose.ian
villa, because father raises SO much pork
The out-buildings are appropriate" to the
business, as you would think, if you should
see all the pig-pens. He calls the hem
huuse an .aviary, and the Shanghais foreign
birds. The meadow is the park. As for
the old oak-trees. he could not praise them
too much"
The very slightest tremble of disgust dis
turbed the moustache upon his patrician lip
as spoke of the Greaseian villa. 1t was a
pun too horrible for him to contemplate,
and for which you, dear uncle, must be
solely responsible. He looked about, as if
mutely asking for his hat, but after a mo-
ment of troubled silence, regained forced
composure. - ~ All e.-
{ "And is pork-raising a profitable business,
Mss Wilmotl"
81 believe it is regarded as such; but |
cannot positively say" Ff
show much do you think-that is, has
your father laid up any particular sum of
money sut of it!" .-a-s-l .r...4-rftr s..4 D..
81 do not know just how much, Mr.. Fitz
Foom.. And you must not think that it is
his especial calling. Ny father is a farmer.
who raises wheat and corn. But out Of the
refuse of his fields, he has enough 20 fatten
few droves. | suppose you know but little
of the country, Mr. Fitz Foom!"
"Very little, indeed. I've been in it occa-
sionaiiy, for day or two, with party of
friends, rusiicating on the estate of some
wealthy gentleman. ] don't think I-should
like the country. It's very nice to talk about,
but very vulgar close at hand. don't see
how so ethereal a being as yourself, Miss
Lucy. could have survived so long in it. |
trust that soon the persuasions of friends, of
your uncle, and-and your humble servant.
will induce you to forsake it,
{ tMy heart is welded to it; it is my homf
and | love it, SIR"
"If we could wed that virgin heart to
something better! he! he! he! But | will
not again call up those divine blushes.''
"The day is lovely; would you like to
walk over the farm little, before dinner
Mr.. Fitz Foom!' asked, anxious to escape
from an eloquence SO overwhe lining.
swung my straw hat on my arm; and
we sailed forth. noticed that he shirered
a little in the cool, bright air, which only in
me, and made me feel mschievous,
too, In my overflow of animal spirits. AS
we sauntered under thu oaks, gathered the
most brilliant of the dropping leaves, and
lered to crown his "Beebe's best;" but he
was afraid OF disturbing its gloss; and SO |
donned the garland myself, and laughed
Without any more bushes, at his profuse
Poor fellow! suppose it
uphill business to him. getting trusted for
his new clothes; and felt for him in the
pains he took with his hat; and, when he
split the knee Of his pantaloon getting over
the fence into the meadow, my condolences
were sincere.
ats the pnly pair have with me-" he
said, With a rueful smile. t..
"Never mind! Mother will mend them for
you, after you 60 to bed tonight. if you will
put them out in the hail."
"But never wore anything patched in
my life."
"That will not need patching. only darn
ing, which is not SO bad; and every body
wears patched clothes il the country. .sn't
it pretty from here-this- meadow sloping
away, and girdled about with that silver
stream!'
"Charming! ah! very! good farm land, eh."
Very good for grazing and hay, SIR"
elbow many acres are there in your faith
er's farm!''
"Three hundred. One hundred is grain
land, one hundred pastuiage, and one hun
dred timber. The pigs fatten themselves
upon the acorhs in the woods. The wheat
is near to good market; and the dairy is
very proft1ble indeed. Do you see that
COW down by the creek! She is mine, and
my especial pet. She is worth five hun
dred dollars; and I'd rather have her than
set of pearls. Then | have all the muney
that can make from selling her butter, for
pocket-money. Now, commend me, Mr..
Fitz Foom! see that you are of an emf
nently practical turn of mind; and wish to
show you that understand all about the
utilities" -....
GSnch heanfv with such sense Ia seldom