North Branch democrat. [volume] (Tunkhannock, Pa.) 1854-1867, 1865-07-19
Se(ett ST orp..
PARsON DOVES STORY,

She was very beautiful girl. / think
never saw such lovely creature in my life,
though know thatlwe are very apt to be
mis!ed by our imaginatlons, and that the
eye makes lis own beauty. But no one
could have thought her any thing but pretty,
standing by the garden gate with her apron
full of wild flowers, and her curIs, lifted by
the wind, dancing around her forehead like
swarm of golden bees. ........... --
MY daughter, Rose," said her father, and
she put her htrIe white hand into mine as a
child might have done, just as simply and
! prettily, so that it was very hard for me to
shake it and let it go stead of keeping il,
But there was somebody else to shake
hands, also, and he standing on the other
side Of Deacon OImst cad, put out his long,
lank fingers, in black silk gloves, and per-
formed the ceremony, which he always went
| through with when one offered to shake
hands with him, and which could not have
been agreeable to anything except the viii
lage pump
|
waving his hand towards my companion with
impressment, Mr. Dove," and he glanced at
me, Who should say he is of no importance?
Ifs tea ready, my dear 2"
She replied that tea was ready, and we
went into the old fashioned house, for we
were going to take tea with Deacon Ohm
stead, and, moreover, to spend the night be
meath his roof, having c6me to W on
maxim point OF enterta aiming two young
ministers on such occasions.
The Rev. Be- jamm Birerworth was
much older than |, and much more import
ait In every way. had been lately called
to struggling little churches, exceedingly un.
fortunate in the way of difficulties and debts
! where The congregation seldom paid any SAL
AIRY, and always considered themselves III
used by the minister, who, in turn, was
somehow aIwaa> injured by the parsonage
called E.ier Babebaw, aud some body was
always accused Of mlsapprolaling the church
! funds | never could discover what they
| Ntit, All 'bt NV. suns Cn'". having
ah,u French leave IN great disgust, the CON
~. -ar 90 ad called for an tcnerprisng
\ uus u.InI@. ,I, aud have been selected -
Bur fl Benjamin BItterwnrth a warm nest
had been ready, and every one had predicted
hm Immense success.
HIS was a country church also, but it was
a rich one, and he had friends and influences
aud everything, which had not. Deacon
OImstead showed that he knew this by eve
ry glance of his eye and every tone of his
| voice.
But Rose Olmstead, who-her father be
Ing a minisler-was mistress of the house.
exhibited no partiahty. On the contrary,
thirk she liked me best and though Ben
iamin Bltterworth, long and lank. leaned
across the table to talk to her in his oily
tones over and over again, somehow she al
ways returned to our old conversation as
often as she could and made me very happy
with her girlIsh prattle.
She knew the village which had been my
boy hoods home, and had seen and spoken to
a sister ~f mine, dead years before so we
found many subjects in common But even
had we had none-had we spoken in differ
ent language, uninteIlie ible to each other-I
am sure that to have sat beside Rose Om
stead, with her eyes loo king into mne-not
bokly, only frankly would have been worth
the most eloquent words that ever fell from
any other woman's lips.
1t was very pleasant evening, for after
wards, in the cleaning, we went out upon
the porch, and she took me down to see the
| roses in the garden and the honey-suckle
arbor over the little seat where she sat eve
rp afternoon at work, and we stayed SO long
that Deacon Olmstead came down after US
dew, and had something of great moment to
say to me, SO that Benjamin Bltterworth
offered his arm to Rose to escort her through
the garden, while walked behind with her
father
We went back to the porch after that and
to the parlor' and soon there were family
prayers and genial goud-nlght. But II
beng a bright summer evening, with all the
windows pen, sitting at mine, and looking
at the moon, heard some one sngiing, and
knew that, Of all the household it could only
be Rose. 1t was sad song and sweet one
"a farewell, plantive fall in it that was
very touching, and [ knelt beside my window
and with my head upon my hand shed tear
thinking what if | were that departing lover
. and Rose Olmstead sang that farewell song
to me- Do we never unconscioualy reach
the future ? Sometimes | think so.
As we walked away to take the stage tht
I. nexbmorn,ng, Benjamin Bitterworlh, wore
! queer smile upon his face, and rubbed h'
long black gloves as though something pleas