M'arthur Democrat. (McArthur, Vinton County, Ohio) 1853-1865, 1860-02-16
From the Knickerbocker.
He Ii A NIX NOT

Gin the States Prlson!' | echoed.
"Oh! ofconrse you mean as a visitor"
and | felicitated myself that my good.
natured host had not "sold" me.
"NO; ! mean as a convict"
"As a convictp echoed again,
dropping my pipe in amazement.--
"Impossible9"
"True, nevertheless"
Mrs. Emore raised her eyes from
her knitting, and looked at her hus;
band and then at me, with a sort Of
sad smile, that seemed to say; "True,
every word of it,"
Mr.. Elmore was planter, living
near Natchez, in Mississippi, and |,
fancying myself an artist, was at that
time staying at his house, ostensibly
engaged in painting portrait Of his
daughter Annetta, fair young bean.
ty OF seventeen.
True, my stay had already been
longer than was strictly necessary for
purposes of painting, but for reasons
which will appear more fully hereafter,
| still fingered on the plantation, an
honored guest. And often, in the
calm autumn evenings, we would all
sit together on the veranda, and talk
for hours in q house like, old fashion.
ed way. under the shadow Of the
clinging vine.
"In the States Prison as a convictw
| repeated, after pause, inwardly
wondering how it could be possible
that that mild, benevolent old gentle
man could ever have been so abused.
"Perhaps you would like to hear
how it happened!" he said, inquiring.
ly.
"Most certainly,ifyo are willing to
narrate it."
81 have never spoken ofit:since |
have been here, but ifyou will listen
to an old mans babbling, | will tell
you the story"
Forty years ago, to-day, was
twenty-five years old, and, improba.
bic as it may now seem, | was prac,
ticing law in the city Of Boston. Or,
rather, | was sitting in my Office wait
ing to practice. My father, who had
died when was but boy, had been
a lawyer before me, and it was my
ambition always to be like him, as |
dimly remembered him, and as my
mother described him. .|
cat that time my mother and my.
self were living together in little
house at Roxbury, and had just be-
gan to see some prospect Of success in
my business.
"lhere was an acquaintance Of
mine, Louis Milton by name, at that
time cashier in one Of the city banks.
circumstances had thrown us
much together, and we had grown to
be very good friends, so much so that
he had often spoken to me of certain
Mary Marshall, whom he was accus.
toned to regard as his future wife;
the contract, for such only it could be
called, having been entered into years
before by their parents.
"Weston Marshall was a wealthy
importer, and the elder Milton chiet
owner of the bank in which Louis was
cashier. Both were wealthy, and
both were aristocratic, and hence the
foundation Of the contract. had
never seen her, aud never thought oil
her but when be spoke Of her, little
dreaming that she would one day in.
directly effect a thorough change 10
my whole life. But | must not antic-
ipate.
~ shall never forget one snowy
night, the first time. ever saw her
Some theatrical celebrity was star.
ring at one of the Boston theatres,
and Louis and myself, happening to-
gether in the evening, strolled to the
play. In one Of the intervals between
the acts, Louis turned to me and ask
ed: IT. -t
Have you ever seen Mary?'
81 answered that | had never had
that pleasure"
"Do you see," he said, directing my
attention to a remote part Of the house,
''that young lady dressed in purple,
with dark plum es in her hat!"
81 replied that | did.
"Well, that's Mary
"Placed as we then were, in the
gIaring light, could see little beyond
the particulars of dress he had remark
ed; but the chances Of the crowd, as
we left the theater, brought me quite
near her, and | thought then, and |
thiEk now, that had never looked
into a pair of deeper or more hearttul
eyes. But we. passed on chatting
pleasantly of different things, and that
night slept as sound and dreamless
a sleep as if there were never a wo-
man in Christendom. a. 'b'.
"Mayhap you have uoticed--ifyou
have what people call IAN ear for mu.
sic,' you certainly have-that you may
l - A.