The mountain Democrat. [volume] (Placerville, El Dorado County, Calif.) 1863-1943, 1865-05-13
THE BROKEN sHILLING.

1t was rather a cool evening in Septem.
Der, remember, and we had fire light.
ed in the back parlor.
Mr.. Smith was reading a package of
letters. Mrs. s. dozed in corner on the
sofa, lulled to rest, suppose, by the tire.
less drumming Of Miss Lizzie on the pi-
ano. in corner by herself, with single
lamp beside her, Betsey Lake sat sewing.
Know that | answer to the anti.euphonius
name OF Betsey. was christened Eliza
beth, and up to the time of my coming 30
live with the Smiths, had been called
Lizzie Lake. But Mrs Smith said it was
'nconvenient' having two of the same
name in the family, and she would have
me called 'Betsey' or, 'Batsey,' to give
her smooth, drawling pronunciation.
did not like the change. The name seem.
cd old fashioned, and homely, and quite
unsuited to my fourteen years.
However custom had rendered the un-
graceful nppelIation familiar, and now af-
ter the lapse Of six years, | have almost
ceased to remember and regret the name
given me at my christening.
Here is line from Graham said Mr..
Smith, Stating that he is coming to N
on business and that he intends to stop
few days with u.s.
This announcement caused quite sen.
sation in our quiet family party. Mrs.
Smith suddenly y sat bolt upright, looking
wide awake. Miss Lizzie left the piano,
and ran to look over her fathers shoulder
at the letter.
Even BetSey Lake was guilty Of little,
silly start of surprise, whereby her needle
glanced from the cambric, and penetrated
the fore finger cf her left hand.
For three successive Summers the
Smiths had met with Weld Graham and
his mother at Saratoga. The acquaint-
ance thus commenced had ripened into
Intimacy, and for two Years the two lami-
lies had cOrreSponded.
An animated discussion followed the
reading. of the letter, the debated point
being whether party should be got up
on the Grahalns' account. or course |
had neither voice nor interest in the mat.
ter. But | had my own busy thoughts
for company, and they led me back 20 Ger.
tain pleasant "reminiscences in my some
"''Hh NiNANNH NNPSI vi NV. III NY
eleventh summer my father had left ME
motherless child, in the charge of friend.
while he went South. in the vain hope
that change Of climate might restore his
failing health.
Weld Graham was then lad Of sixteen,
preparing for college, and boarder in the
family with myself. Every incident Of
that bright and brief summer was chron.
icled in my memory. Our manifold quar-.
rcis and reconcilementS; the garden where
we made some astonishing experiments in
horticulture; the swing put up for my es-
pecial pleasure. and our exercises in draw
ing, in which was tutor-Weld my pu-
pill. | have decided talent for drawing.
| say it with pride, because it Is my one,
sole gift. When a child, delighted in
Sketching caricatureS, and at the request
Of Weld Graham, executed numberlesS
rough, but graphic sketches of individuals
known to both Of US, and who possessed
peca!ia'ities of physiognomy upon which
ny pencil could seize and enlarge Some
oi these had been claimed bv Weld as
kccpsakeS, and few OF them | still re.
tanned. On the whole, was glad Weld
Grahlm was coming. | remembered him
As spirited, active, and ambitious lad,
and | wished to see in what degree his
manhood fulfilled the promise Of his early
years.
Would he recognize me? | thought
not. The staid young woman, who did
plain sewing, and made herself generally
useful III Mr.. Smiths family, was quite
different person from the light. hearted
Lizzie Lake whom he had knuwn. Nor
did | wish to be recognized. Fate had
gwen me full share OF harsh experience.
No Sparing hand mcted to me my share
Of the worlds rough usage In child.
hood, parental love planted roses in my
path, but they withered long ago. Not
fresh leaf or blossom remained-t -thorns
only for my bleeding feet; but did not
faint by the wayside.
Resolutely | went on my allotted pill.
grimage, looking neither to the right hanl
nor the left. Yet if chanced to encoun.
ter those | had known in more hopeful
times, | in>tinct.vely covered my face,
saying:
we 60 on life's journey by diverse
ways, therefore | know you not
Thus it was that | wished for no recog-
milton on the part of my old play fellow.
10 see him, tfknow that he was prosper
Gus, happy and distinguished would give
me pleasure; but | wished not to he
known in return.
One morning, some three days after
Mr.. Graham came, was engaged in clear
starching Miss Lizzies muSlins, when
Mrs. Smith came to the door.
'BetSey, you will have to leave those
things she said, and carry Mr.. Graham's
vallse down to the cross roads lie is 60
ing to the north village, and left word to
nave Tom take his valise across the inca
dow in time to meet the morning coach.
'Why does not Tom go as directed!'
lie is away with Mr.. Smith some,
where, and Mr.. Graham has gone round
by the postoffice, expecting to find his
luggage at the cross roads when the stage
comes along
Can't Jane go''
NO; she says she hurt her ancle yes
terday. and it pains her this morning
There is nobody to send but you, BetSry.'
Very well, will GO
In few minutes | was on my way
across the field. rather liked the nov
city of the expedition, which would afford
n chance Of seeing Mr.. Graham. AS yet,
had not spoken with him. not hardly
seen him. so constantly was engaged in
sharing the housemaid'S labors.
On reaching the cross roads | sat down
on a rock by the roadside, placing the
valiSe before me on the grass. In short
time heard the coach coming, but no Mr..
Graham was in sight. 1t, the coach, came
up. The driver called to me. Going in
the stage, ma'am?' shook my head.
and the lnmherinn unhicln Sned On lis