The Vermont transcript. [volume] (St. Albans, Vt.) 1864-1870, 1865-03-10

childP
81 beg your pardon, Captain Doug
las, she said, petulantly; sit isn't al
all necessary to discuss matter soper.
fectly Indifferent to me"
Now Mark Douglas was only man
with all the infrmities incident tc
mankind. He bit his lip, and his brow
grew dark
'Rachal, you seem to have forgot
ten the engagement"
Engagement" she repeated, sharp
ly 81 am tired of az engagement
that only letters one party while the
other is free as air"
"Tired !" he hesitated moment, as
if vainly striving to command bis
voice. "Do you wish to be released,
Ray ?"
She did not apswer-perhaps she
was not quite prepared for this phase
of affairs.
Tell me-yes or no !" he demanded
sternly.
yes" she answered, with pettish
abruptness.
"Then good-by, Ray"
Gone? Yes, be was gone. She
watched him descending the noun
tain side with quick, even strides I'M
der the scarlet draperies of cfnging
vines, through patches OF deep, still
shadow into belts Of golden sunshine,
until the overhanging rock hid him
from her view; yet it seemed SO diff
cult to believe that he was really
gone.
She looked down at the tiny en-
gagement-ring that sparkled on her
foreinger-a simple turquoise set in
virgin gold, whose blue glimmer shone
dimly through her tears and she
could not but remember the tender
words with which he had placed it on
her finger
( 'Let it be token between us, dear
est, like the signet rings of old times
Wherever L may be, this ring will al
ways bring my heart to its queen"
And now
81 ought to have returned it." she
pondered, shrinking as if the slender
circlet Of gold were a ring Of fire. 81
,cW-some time !"
So Mark Douglas lost his sweet
heart, and marched down to Peters
burg q solitary man, marveling, as
many a one has done before him, on
the inscrutable mysteries Of the fe-
male heart.
"Dretful keen wind, amt it?' said
the Widow Taylor, untying the strings
of her worsted hood; powerful SHARP
frost last night Deacon Pettibone'l
dahlias is black as SCOT, and all Miss
Morrison's mornin -glories is blasted
Thankee, Miss Martin, my feet is cold
won't you take the rocking-chail
yourself? Why, Rachel, child, what
ails you? all the neighbors are talkin
bout how you've changed !"
Rachel colored and turned away.
II am well enough
81 tell you what, Miss Martin" be
gan Mrs. Taylor, in mysterious wills
per to the elder lady, you just take
a double handful o green willer bark
and bile it up well--or snakeroot tei
amt bad-and give her pint noor
and mornin. It's the most strength
ening But I've come round to tel
you what the Women's Committed
have decided on
"Ah, indeed ?" said Mrs. Martin, in
quiringly.
"We all feel to be dretful Thankful
the harvest's been SO good, and-anC
every things fetched up jest abou
right, intoned the widow "and so W.
thought it would be kind o squarin
up with merciful Providence to senC
box or tew o things out to then
poor soldiers that's fghtin like al
possessed It's only accordin' t.
Scripter, you know, and it would be I
kind o nice little Thanksgiyin' gift
now wouldn't it?
The widow dropped her eyelid
: simultaneously, and went on:
"Miss Darby's kindly gin us {
bushel O them sweet-potatoes the.
, raised in the south pasture lot
They're little damaged, not exactl.
fit for market; but theirs no doubt tn,
soldiers II be glad to get EN-; anc
: Mrs. Deacon Pettibone has Civ us
lot O. that fermented peach sass, an'
: Desire Wallis has made up sight c
} book marks, and Widow Smith ha
J cooked a peck o dough-nuts, with
: out no sweetinin. Sugars so high