Orleans independent standard. [volume] (Irasburgh, Vt.) 1856-1871, 1865-02-03

And than the magnet more attractive.
mo, no, / never interfere in such matt
ters," and father Greyson shook his white
bead gravely. ats no use to make a
dam Of ones own self-will to stop the
stream of true love, as my old minister
used to say. No, no, learned a lesson
in that affair of Miriam's that | never
forgot"
"hIiriam 2"
"Yes, Miriam Gage. suppose you
never heard Of her, for she died years
before you were born. Poor Miriam !"
and the old man sighed mournfuly.
! said nothing, but my heart was fut-
tering with auticipations, for | knew by
the old mans air of mournful abstraction
that he was peering among the dim
records Of the past for some hall-forgotten
leai--some simple history, may be, Of one
who bad lived suffered, and died, long
e'er my own eyes had looked upon the
light Of day.
Miriam Gage" he continued, thought
fully, "wss an orphan whom my wife
adopted, out Of pure ompassion--a poor,
haf-starved pauper child, with not a
friend in the wide world"
| remember the first night after my
wife brought her home, how, after she
bad dressed her in new, warm clothes,
and given her big bowl of bread and
milk for her supper, the little Thing came
up to where she was sitting by the fire,
and laid her little thin hand on hers, and
said in her queer, old way:
"Are you one of Gods angels that he
sends for the poor little children that
haven't any father or mother, 10 take
them up to heaven?"
Mary was SO confounded that she didn't
krow what to say, for you see the question
took her so by surprise, and | said for
her:
why, what do you mean by that, lii
tie one p
She looked at me a moment with her
great, thoughtful eyes, and said
My mother told me when she died,
that il | was a good child God would
send an angel for me, and then | never
should be cold or hungry any more"
And truly the child was not SO far out
of the way, after all, for if ever one of
Gods blessed angels was sent down to
earth, Pm sure she was one and the old
man glanced tearfuly at a tiny brooch
which he always wore in his bosom, con-
tsining lock Of soft hair, and marked
with the name he loved so well--the
name Of her whose fair young face long
since moldered to dust beneath the gras>
sy turf of the quiet old churchyard.
Il don't know how it was" he continued
thoughtfully, "but, somehow, money al
ways slipped through my fingers faster
than it does through those of most people.
You see, was an only SOP, aud my
father was a rich man for those days,
and there didn't seem any need of my
learning trade to support myself BY
and as my money came easy, so it sceat
easy, and before was forty found my
self head over ears in debt, with a family
Of motherless children to provide for, and
neither trade nor profession to do with.
This part of the State was very thin
ly settled in those days. Bangor was
scarcely more than village, and many |
of the towns around, that now boast their
rich farms and handsome dwellings, were
then dense wilderness, with only here |
and there log but in the middle of
clearing to show that human beings had
found their way there.
Land was cheap, of course, and with
what money could save from my shat
tered fortunes boughta farm and house
in one Of the new but fast growing towns,
hung out my sign, promising entertain
ment for man and beast, t,moved my family |
there, and made up my mind to settle
down as q farmer and country tavern
keeper.
The house itself was a great lumber
ing, awkward building, full of unfinished
and unfurnished rooms, fit for nothing
but for the wind TO whistle through, max
ing music for the mice to dance BY
Things looked lonesome enough at first,
you may be sure, but the girls set to work
under the direction of Miriam, and soon
the old place began to brighten up won-
derfully. The great staring windows
were covered with neat white curtains,
the floors were secured until they almost |
shone, and the pretty braided mats look
ed so home,like that / almost fancied
myself back again in the dear old place.
Mtr;ou, had hro,ch. Il. r