The workingman's advocate., 1866-06-23
CHICAGO, JUNE %, 1866.

passage il taken, and We must follow the
destiny which is leading US on. But, Fiory,
my poor child" she added, regretfuily, :"
gr'eve to stand in the way Of her prospect
Of happiness. Perhaps, even now
Mother, | interrupted, laying my hand
upon her arm, do not try to shake my re-
solution | must 60 with you and papa.
And believe me, MIR. Owen, that IL new nv
true and only reason for turning deaf car
70 your pleadings. | am wiser, if sadder,
than | was year ago"
Is II indeed so 2" said John. "Do YOU
love me at last, my Florence! Then |
can bear all, even this bitter disappoint-
ment; and believe me, my darling, that the
very ace which destroys my hopes raises
you higher than ever in nv estimation
Farewell, Florencei May heaven bless your
good works, and prosper you an ~
Il lie turned to my father and mother and
warmly shook their hands. Then he paused
before leaving the room.
Zone kiss, florence" said he aft "a tha
last time - A
What could do but yields For one in
slant he strained me to his heart-the next
he had left me, and the wind moaned sadly
round the gables, and the night fell darkly
round. 4
Y II was glorious evening in July all
around spake peace to the tried and tired
n spirit, and filed it with the ineffable calm
which sometimes comes through the me-
dunn Of quiet and beautiful scenery to the
heart which, amid all its worl ily cares. has
not lost the freshness Of its love for holy
nature. Tears rose unbidden to my eyes
as gazed on the dreamy loyeliness of the
landscape which lay before me. bathed in
the golden light of sunset-tears which
were not all sorrowful and memories Of
the old dear days at EidUun for a time dis
) PEELED the recollection Of many heavy and
scathlng trial which had come to me during
the last seven years. All, me il was
only hve-and-.wenty, yet my youth-time
seemed very lar away SO much had come
ana gone IN that seven years. The first
long voyage, the Australian experiences,
which had promised brightly ut first, until
malignant fever swept away my father,
aunt and uncle in few days the sorrow
lui leaving OF our dead in their lonely bur-
lai-piaces IN the bush and the subsequent
return Of my widowed mother and myself
Ia second Naomi and Ruth-to the old
country, still called home, though offering
now no certain home to either of us-all
this outline, filled with a crowd Of attend
ant details, seemed 10 compress q life's
history into the short space have men
toned.
/ And nov my desr mother had found q
home with Ter own kindred, and the same
refuge had been offered to me; but my ma
ture rose in proud rebellion against life Of
dependence on Others Coz .scuently had
sought and obtained situation as govern
ess. Ny new abode was in q picturesque
part Of Deyonshire, and something in its
bowery lanes and sunny fields reminded me
irresistibly of my girlhood's home I was
a much better walker than were nv little
pupils, and on the evening have mention
LED was on ny way to distant village
church, (it was Sunday in order to Be
present at the evening service Rising
from the seat 1 had temporarily occupied
on fallen tree, l psrsued my road, and In
due time arrived at the sacred edlfce.
entered, and was shown to large, old -faash-
loned, square pew. The officiating clergy
man was young man, perfect stranger to
me. listened, earnestly at first, but grad
ually with di tracted thoughts, as the service
proceeded, ti, new consciousness sudden
ly aroused my whole attention. The intro
ductory words which preceded the sermon
were pronounced IN o clear, full voice, which
rang through every chord Of my memory
like strain Of music.
4 had been sitting in the corner Of the pew
with my face turned away from the pulpit,
and now | did not move No look was
needed to assure me whose voice il was
that was speaking, in the old eloquent tones,
those words Of comfort and counsel. Like
a food Of light there came upon nv spirit
the joy and confidence Of earlier years.
never for an instant thought that there
lcould be a change in that noble generous
nature; and when at last the pastors voice
ceased, turned and gazed with loving rev.
erenoe on the face (hOmely, perhaps, in the
eyes Of others, but more attractive than all
IN tie would beside to me,) Of my true and
dear friend, John Owen.
L As turned, our eyes met. IL spite of
my altered appearance, my faded cheek, my
heavy black dress, l saw that his recogni-
ton Of me was instantaneous I left the
church, but fingered in the churchyard, for
was sure he would join me there. And !
Not many weeks after, Rev. John Owen,
rector Of Woodleigh, one OF the richest liv-
!, ings in the comfy, was calling at Harleston
nall, and took occasion to say 10 my em-
lploy er, most amiable and ladylike woman,
|" Mis 3artram, I am going to request you
to release Miss Gilbert from her engagement
with you. have established claim upon
her, to which no impedimept is alleged, and
this is my third time Of asking" One
month later was his WIFE,
II The Atlantic Gable.
IN I'm Tunrdav Mov 90 .hc.,& O0o -. a