The Weekly Perrysburg journal. [volume] (Perrysburg, O. [Ohio]) 1861-1???, 1863-10-14
night could not sleep in town, and they

| X,
barking, ran before us as we plodded on.
And as we went, | drew from Ellen some
further particulars of her brief history.
Left an orphan very early, she had been,
| 1t seemed, brought ur in the house Of her
| fathers brother, an old parish priest in
| Counaught who had taken pains with her
| education, rs education is understood by
his caste and country. This, at any rate,
accounted for what had puzzled me, the
propriety of diction and manners-pcrhaps
elegance is q filter word--with which FL
len expressed herself, and which seemed
extraordinary III peasant.maiden. Father
Ncalc had taught her many things, even
something of the foreign tongues he had
learned at Douai, and had wished. in his
simplicity, to make her q governess. But
when the good priest was dead, no resource
remained for the orphan niece but to ac-
cept the hospitality of another kinsman,
Cassidy the smith, Just then on the point of
emgrating to America to better the fortunes
of his family. Cassidy had been a good
| man, and his wife amotherly, warm-hearted
woman but | fancy the poor niece had
| missed, many day, the cultured talk, the
pleasant studies and the higher sympathy
Of her former guardian.
THAT was his dog sir" said Ellen, srnil-
| ing on tho faithful brute that looked up
lovingly at her. " Yes, poor Toby came
with us from Ireland, the only old friend
left! !" And tho bereaved girl sobbed and
moaned as if hey heart would break,
But now we were out of the forest and
among the fields, and on road which was
more deserving of the name than the irreg-
ular path along which We had hitherto
journeyed. We had met one or two coun-
try farmers, too, trotting homeward on their
raw. boned nags, and they had stared at my
| companion and myself with scrutiny the
| reverse Of flattering. | began to cogitate
on what might be the best course to pur-
sue. / could not take Ellen with me to the
| could | place her, alone and unprotected,
i'll one of the noisy caravansaries of the
| town. In the first case, her reputation
might suffer and in the second, she was
by no means secure from the annoyanccs
which her great beauty and unfriended con-
dtion might bring upon her, in tho midst
of so much unbridlcd ruilanism. Here,
then, was n dilemma, made only the more
perplcxing by the unconsciousncss of the
person principally concerned. The stun
ming blow of the sndden bereavement had
in manner served to benumb the girls
faculties, and she was but gradually recov-
ering her accustomed powers of percep-
ton. For the present, it was for me to de-
eide on what was tttest, and the rcsponsi-
bility puzzled mo sorcly | made it my
task, as deicately as possible, to discover
from Ellen what aCquaintanccs she had on
that side of the Atlantic, and what might
be her views as regarded the future. The
information received was not, at fret, OF
q reassuring character. One or two nanies
the girl had treasured in her memory as
those of friends, or rather of friendly ac-
neutrality-suspicious., at any rate. who had
shown goodwill toward herself and her
unfortunate relations; hut alas they all
belonged to dwellcrs in Northern cities, or
to farmers of the Northwest. Ellen had
not long been in the South; she had seen
little that was pleasant there, but much TO
alarm and disgust her. and she shook her
head hopelessly when ! inquired who, in
Georgia or Carolina, would afford her tenn
porary protection. Think again" said /.
Surely you must be known TO some one
who would not scrupc TO receive you be-
meath o friendly roof. Is there no lady, no
grave and respectable citizen of Savannah,
which town you have 80 lately left, who
d" No, no." broke out the Irish girl pas
sionately, mot one / am known TO no
one but few who are too poor TO support
ne, were l willing to become burden to
them and tho only rich man to which my
poor uncle was known--the wretch II
would sooner die of hunger in the swamps
than eat bread Of his"
1t cost me infinite pains TO soothc poor
Ellen, so far as to induce her to explain her
aversion for this person, whose very men
tion seemed so disgusting. But at last she
told mo that her uncle had worked in the
foundry of wealthy ironmastcr of Savan-
nah, and that the employer had thought fit,
though an elderly man. to persccute her
with hateful attentions. For long time
the girl had contented herself with silently
repulsing the advances of the gray-haircd
sinner; but at last she had been so fright
encd as to complain to her uncle. John
Cassidy had demonstrated with his employ
er, had been answered by sneers and taunts,
had knocked the insulter down on the
Threshold of his own foundry, and bad been
compelled to leave his work in consequence,
and TO set off on the journey in which the
pestilence had barred his course.
His name 2" / asked Indignantly; for
although, l am afraid, such things have
before, the sight of beautiful
woman in tears rouses all the champion Of
ones nature.
"Joel Mathewson," said the girl, slowly
and unwillingly.
"What!" cried /; "Joel Mathewson
that lives in the large bay-windowed house
in Franklin street, with the great garden
and high walls; Elder Mathewson, as they
call him?"
1.-The same," answered Ellen flushing
angrily at the detested name, which ought
hardly TO have surprised me. A bad man
was Joel Mathewson, one of the worst of
bad genus of Americans; a planter, man
ufacturer, banker, aud also, it was said,
a slavedeaer under tho rose; he was one of
the most opulcnt men i'll Savannah and in
spite of his prohigacy, was an elder Of his
church. q distinction due to his wealth and
his cunning. He was sanctimonious,
withal, and could talk unctiously and make
canting speeches by the hour. lie owned
estates his money multiplied amazingly
and he had twice married heiresses of fair
plantations, who had soon been glad to hide
their welded misery in the grave. In per-
son, he was a bony, cadayerous, tall old
man, with iron-gray hair yellow face, and
eyes glaring intensely from under his shag
gy brows. | knew the man. because he
was director of my railway company, and !
he had house III Augusta, where he spent
part of the summer. But all this did not
help me TO find secure and crcditable ref |
uge for Ellen Neaie, the poor waif had
found in the forest. We were getting near
Augusta; villas began to dot tho country !
round, and roofs TO congregate. The black |
who were lounging about their /