The Shasta courier., 1860-03-31
NUMBER 4.

long for an ordinary one, and SO made bold
push to break it. Again forgot myself
"What nice place this is II said. 'Do you
remembers John, how crazy used to be about
dancing? Your father used to say if ,ny heart
would always keep as light as my feet. life would
go easily with me-"
Yes, yes, remember" be replied, Ithoieht,
little sadly. "Wil you dance win me to-
day?"
40, yes, certainly"
| was glad to have him ask me that. OF all
persons in the world, | best loved to dance with
him. | had told him so hundreds of times too,
SO that he knew well enough what my smile
meant. We danced together so many times
that day, that the Cranston people-or at least
all OF them that attended the picnic-grew big
eyed with wonders Noticing how close they
watched u.s. John said, as he led me to my seat
! .or the last tineS
I'VE sre sarng our good townsfolk from q
great deal of sin Bessie; because while they arc
speculating about such innocent sort of people
as you and |, they cannot be talking of worse
ones. We are getting famous"
l was happier that night, after returned
home than had been for weeks before. But
my happiness was ofshort duration, for after the
supper was cleared away, and while sat by an
open window, recalling the events of the day.
my mother said to me-
Your Amt Hastings was here to-day, and
she said that John BlailIlie was finishing his
house on the hill. Did you hear anything about
it at the picnic r.
"No," | said, scarcely above whisper
"And she said if Fannie was going to marry
John, she kept it dreadful sly; for besides
piecng up few squares of patchwork she hal
not made the first step towards getting ready.
What do you think about III"
| "I think she will be ready as soon as the
house is" answered, turning my face towards
the window, that she might not see the express
sion of my features.
" Well, take it altogether, Bessie, it's queer
| piece of business.
did not answer, only let my forehead droop
low upon the window-seat Seeing this, my
mother came up to me and rested her hand upon
my head, and said:
" Poor child y
How from my heart blessed her for her
quiet sympathy The next two weeks that fol-
lowed were sad and tedious ones to me- Every
way that turned, news of John Blaiklies APP
preaching marriage was poured into my ears
and even Fannie herself, who had always been
very pruden. about it, seemed pleased in telling
me of the arrangements that were going on up
to Johns house-of this piece of furniture he
had selected of the carpets which had been left
to her judgment exclusively, and of the beauti-
full toned seraphine that Johns uncle had pre-
sented him for the little parlor.
"You will be very happy" said one day, in
answer to all this.
Fannie looked up suddenly into my face l
thought quizzical expression drifted across her
features.
How pale you look, Bessie" she said "what
is the matter with you ?"
"Nothing, am sure,' l answered. with some
little show of spirit.
81 an glad of it; but, indeed, you do look
downright i'll. Won't you go up to the new
house with me night-perhaps that viii make
You feel better. ! believe you keep too closely
to the house. But you need not shake your
head you will go. John will be there, and we
will have pleasant time oft"
: And | went in spite of myself, although every
step that took towards the house that was once
to have been mine, was like very torture to me.
, y, whata pleasant house it was and how sim
ply and tastefully furnished, from the cunning,
neatly grained kitchen to the well-carpeted par
lors Everything was just as had planned it,
a hundred times, in laughing jocose way to
, John Had he indeed remembered it ALL on
purpose to torture me with now? 1t seemed so.
ado you like the house, Bessie ?" he asked, as
if divining my very thoughts.
Very much indeed" | answered. "Every-
thing is neat, pretty and tasteful Is it too early
to wish you joy 2" asked, feeling that he was
expecting me to say something
"No, not too early, but it may be too late"
looked up into his face Its expression puz-
zled me.
al do not understand you clearly" said
But never mind" added noticing that Fam
ME had gone from the room. 81 have wretched
headache tonight, and hardly know what l am
saying.
Headache when all the time it seemed as if
my heart was breaking
| "Where is Fannie ?" asked a moment after,
seeing that she did not return.
"oone homer he answered, in the coolest
tone imaginable.
What and left me here p
ayes, and left you here Are you frighten-
ed?"
Not much-but my poor head will 60"
Wait moment if you please" he said, de-
tanning me. {" have something to say TO youl'
| Something to say to mel Did he know that
every kind word that he spoke to me pierced my
heart like barbed arrow?
This house is yours, if you wish it, Bessie,'
he began, in slightly embarrassed way. 81 am
afraid you made harsh decision in casting me
off forever. 1t seems to me that know your
heart better than you know it yourself"
looked up into his face 1t seemed to mo
that was dreaming. told him so, between my
sobs and tears
God forbid !" he said, taking both my hands
in his I" But the past summer has been
wretched reality Of doubt and despair to me-
Tell me, Bessie, isit ended here ~
| could not answer him in words, only 90
closer to his side, and nestle my hands fondly in
his.
"This shall be your home then, Bessie" he
sad kissing me. "But, remember, my dear,
that cannot allow my house to go without an
encumbrance, as the papers say. Does that idea
please you?"
40, yesl7 answered. And John believed
mel Why shouldn't he !?
Bsy@ He who viii thrive, must rise Mt FIVE.
says the proverb, though there is more rhyme
than reason in it; for if
He who will thrive must rise at five,
it must follow, foTtiori,
Il. IL 1 IL. =. L