The Kenosha telegraph. [volume] (Kenosha, Wis.) 1860-1888, 1864-06-16
The Sorrows of Greatness.
From Chambers Journal,
CONCLUDED FROM LAST WEEK.

From Chambers Journal,
CONCLUDED FROM LAST WEEK ....r
slept inditferently. Strange visions dis
turbed my rest Emily Leverton, seated OF
side saddle, rode an enormous perch, which
lowered over my bed then her father appear
ed armed with Dutch cheese, which he
flung at my head. | awolle with a cry Of
fear. '.Ah you may we'll sing out, Maste
Grampus; and I'll send another at your heat
if you do it again! F"
1t was Tubbs who spoke, ferocous, bull
lying boy. He sat up in bed looking mos
trucuent, with his night cap cooked over biz
left ear He brandished slipper in his hand
" Do what?" asked i'll my absurd trebit
voice
''Do what?.. said Tubbs, rnimicing my
shrill speech. ''Do what? Why, snore.-
You, We been snoring loud enough to wake ole
Wicknam."
''Have |? I'm sorry for it."
''Do it again, and you'll get this slipper,
and cold pig into the bargain" growIec
the bully, composing himself to sleep, for il
was barely five o'clock.
This was melancholy awakening
never Ioathed Poplar House Academy SC
much as did that morning | tried to &c
to sleep again and dream of the big perch,
with its fair rider; but fear of the cold pig
i was not gifted with personal courage
kept me awake till it was time to get up
REPAIRED more diligently than ever during
the next few days to my riverside haunt
partly to escape from the inquisitiveness of
my companions. who wanted to know why
the fish preserving hunks, old Leverton had
invited me to supper.
Il know why,' piped small youth of
nine about the height (metaphorically) ofsix-
penny worth of halfpence. q know why.
He wants Goliath to marry his daugh-
ter"
The handsomest and talIest boy in the
school-his head just reached my chin
Immediately boxed the little urchin's ears,
saying, as he placed his hand On his hip and
ran his fingers carelessly through his light
curls:
Il fatter myself she could choose much
better"
Poor Goliath blushed scarlet, and skunk
away to the river.
| had not the least idea then-such an
innocent was What was the matter with
me but have since discovered that the
over grown boy of fourteen, was in love with
Emily Lever ton.
l broke both the large and small blade Of
my pocket knife, trying to carve e. L. on
one of the old willows | attempted to make
rhymes to her name but l could think of
none but Everton, which smacked Of toffey
l tried to catch glimpse Of her father
buV was unsuccessful. now and then OBJ
served the top joint of his fishing-rod
through the trees, but, though he must have
seen me, he showed no signal Of recogni-
ton.
A fortnight of anxious expectancy passed
away was waiting as usual by the river
for the school supper-bell to ring, when again
a hand was laid on my shoulder. Although
had anticipated the touch Of those fingers for
thirteen successive evenings | started as con-
vulsively as if Mr. Leverton had put frog
down my back.
Nervous, eh?, said he. eve shall cure
that 1t is not good for man to be alone.
Let me see, g he continued, .stroking his
chin contemplatively Twenty years old
Then you will be twenty-one next birth
day?'
Yes, sir, /" murmured, feeling what a
falsehood was wrapped up in this seeming
truism g On the ninth OF September. {.
''Hum-ha," said Mr.. Leverton. g Supper
waits for you
Again'a dish of fish, Dutchscheese and ale.
I was less shy this time: began to talk,
and told my host all about my family.
Emily looked lovely i'll her simple white
muslin After supper, at her fathers bid
ding, she opened the pianoforte. and sang a
few songs | was in the seventh heaven,
and the singer was st. Cecilia.
Her father broke the spell.
Come" he said looking at the clock;'' tbs
time to go-I will walk with you"
AS soon as we were outside the house, he
spoke thus, as if in soliIoquy:
+" Twenty-one in September, he will do
admirably Gentle innocent and pliable: |
shall mould linn like wax. Instead of losing
a daughter, l shall gain a son. David, you
shall marry Emily"
l stood in the moonlight with my mouth
wide open, looking, suspect, like gigantic
baby.
s'Sir! | stammered.
Wouldn't you like to marry herr"
''Yes."
''Very well-then t at is settled. In the
midsummer mondays shdi4 COIIO an Vol II
to your father about it. David. Till then, he
said sternly,'' silence. Good night"
After this conversation, l was frequently
invited to Mr. Leverton's abode we did
not always have fshfor supper-stllli frugal
ity was the rule of the household. had
overcome my shyness with the reeluse, and
in his company conversed pretty freely; but
alone with Emily sat as mum as stock
fish My attempts at counting consisted IN
turning over the leaves OF her music book,
invariably at the wrong moment doubt
if Jeanne Deans thought the Laird OF Dunn
biedikes as dull as Emily must have found
me. | began to fancy, too, that the young
ladys manner had grown frigid ard con-
strained: saw a furtive tear occasionally
start from her eyelid. What on earth did
it me an?
| W eut home for the midsummer holidays,
and found myself confronted by sad calanl-
ity. Nv dear father who had so often meas
ured others, died suddenly, and was him
self measured for his coffin. Shortly after
his funeral, the will was read. He had been
a prosperous professional man land had saw
ed money. After providing for my mother
and sisters and leaving the business to my
elder brothers, my name was mentioned.
$50 my beloved son David leave the
sum of five thousand pounds-to be held IN