Raftsman's journal. [volume] (Clearfield, Pa.) 1854-1948, 1861-11-13

eut aS possessed, ana received MS earnest
thanks. He, in return sang three sweet songs,
with fullness and richness of expression that
had never heard before. When the last
words had died upon his lips, he said decisive
ly:
'sNo more music tonight. You are as sen
sitive as little wind flower, Miss Faith"
Then, rising to go, he took my hand, and
holding it with soft, close pressure, he add
ed:
"You need some one to care for and cherish
you as they would bird or gem-anything
that was more rare and precious, do you know
it, little Fay ?''
1 think it was his tone more than his words
that made my heart thrill with new, yet
strangely sweet sensation of great joy and
gladness /; yet only said, very quietly
''But You are not going yet, Mr.. Liston2
think / can hear the sound OF carriages in the
distance already. Surely you will stay and
see mother 2''
ssNot tonight he answered.
Then, with a certain seriousness OF manner
that made his words seem too deep for mere
compliments, he added
ssThis evening has been to me one of such rare
enjoyment, that cannot bear to mar it with
the sight of another face, or the sound Of a.
mother voice. Good night. l shall take the
road back to the village, think, sleep at the
hotel, and not dawn upon the the gallant Cap
tain's till Tomorrow by which time l trust,
the storm caused by my non-appearance will
have had time to blow over. Is not that the
sbetter part of valor p My respects to your
mother, Miss Faith. I shall call upon her
very soon. Once more, good night.''
And, with smile, bow, one last pressure
of the hand, he went down the steps and a
way.
The sound of his retreating footballs was
lost in the noise of the approaching carriages,
and, as they drew up to the door, descended
in time to receive into my arms Carries little
figure, heavy with sleep, and to feel the tight
ening clasp Of her arms about my neck, as she
awoke 10 the consciousness of my presence.
80, darlin' Fay !" she murmure l, drowsily,
Pm so glad. | wanted you so all day.''
But as bore her in and laid her down upon
the parlOr sofa, she sank again into the heavy
sunber of complete exhaustion. Then ran
back again to the door.
We'll, what kind of time did You have
Who were all there! What did you do 2
Was the music good !-and the oration3 Do
tell me all about it,
so, Faith 20 exclaimed Charlie, little i'm
patiently, ssfor mercy's sake don't ask SO
many questions all in BREATH or, rather,
don't ask any at all until tomorrow. We
are little the forlornest party you ever en-
countercd. Wilhelm, Lucie and Carrie have
slept in concert for the last mile, and Bess
and Will have quarrelled the whole way
"Quarrelled o Bess!'' | exclaimed in
astonishment. s'It seems so strange to me
that day OF such pleasure should end in
quarrel.
"Well, Faith," said Bess, with slight
shade of self-reproach in her tone, sshe's been
too cross for anything in this world. Come
into the parlor, that's good girl, and help
me off with my things. Bother this hat the
strings are in a knot of course. Well had
4 right pleasant time after all. But, o, Faith!
just think, the young lawyer-Liston his name
is-didn't come after ALL Wasn't il too pro-
voking 20
ssIndeed, should think it wasp 1 tried
to say, sympathizihg: s'And he is SO very
pleasant, too
"Pleasant 20 she cried, turning suddenly,
with a look of amazement. "Why, Fay De-
vine, how do you know? You have never
laid eyes on him ~
eyes, but have though. He spent the af-
ternoou and evening here"
"Well, 1 never, Mother, just hear this.
While we've been fretting ourselves to death
over the non-arrival of our distinguished guest
Faith has been quietly entertaining him at
home. l declare, it is enough to provoke
saint.'
And by the way of her establishing her
claim to that title, Bessie went off to bed in
decided fit of the sulks.
ssYou shall tell us all about it in the morn
ing, my daughter" said our mother, coming
sion on my face. ssJust now we are all tired
and cross and want to get to bed as soon as
possible. Here, Win, carry the baby up for
sister. Don't Fay, she's too heavy for you.
Take charge of these wrappngs-will you,
my child / have my hands full, you see."
And she followed the procession of weary
children that were slowly dragging them
selves up stairs.
'sBut, mother, dear,'' said, pausing at my
door to await her approach, ssdo tell me,
have you had pleasant time 10
GA delightful time, my daughter" she
said softly, ssmade doubly so by the remem-
brance of her to whose ilial love owed it all.
And you-you have not been unhappy
"Oh, mother," | cried, throwing my arms
around her neck, and hiding my blushing face
on her shoulder, ssit has been the happiest
day of 10Y life. And now / know you have
enjoyed it, l am so much more than repaid for
my sacrifice.
And so, indeed, was. Not only because
the petty self-denial of this morning had been
my first step in that path of sacrifice which, |
sooner or later, all human feet must learn to
tread-not only because it had knit my moth |
er's heart and mine in bonds of firmer and
closer affection-not only because it had
taught me that our greatest trials may often
prove blessings in disguise, and, therefore, al
to hope and trust but because
have you not guessed it already y the friend |
ship commenced that morning beneath the
shadow of the old arbor ripened, in time, into
the true, earnest and protecting love which
makes me at this moment the very happiest
little wife upon whom the sun shines.
1t has become quite a practice in the South
to present commanding officers with race hor-