Ashtabula weekly telegraph. [volume] (Ashtabula, Ohio) 1853-1873, 1866-11-03
Why he Married.

again, Mr.. Nerley 2" f".s7 %
NO. l don't" said the old bachelor de-
cidedly. ,,ryf-t ..r s ...i...-s.a.
He 1cds something of bear 60 answer
crustily, when Barbara Smith stood IN
the doorway, with the shadowy lashes
dropping over her soft brown eyes, and
the roses melting into deep carmine on
her pink muslin dress was pale in com
parison. Such a pretty, bright-cyed low
able little Barbara as she was, in AL the
blooming freshness of her eighteen sum
mers and the soft sigh that fiuttered up
from her lips. as the one horse carriage
drove away, was checked instantly
Barbara had no idea of becoming vic
tim to unrequited love, though she had
rather fancied Mr.. Joseph Verley during
his brief sojourn at her fathers house.
Mr. Verley drove away through the
rustling green draperies of the summer
lanes, whistling softly as he drove.
Il shall be in very good time for the
twelve-thirty train," he meditatcd to him
self Punctuality is the soul of business,
and / never was one of the behind hand
tribe, thank providence. Besides, think
it was becoming rather dangerous to stay
at that place any longer. "rm thirty
nine tomorrow week, and that's just
twenty years too old for me to go to ma
king fool of myself Fancy me get
ting married! No you don't, Joseph Yer
ley, my friend"
AS be settled himself comfortably in
the crowded rail road car, and opened a
letter, the subject again rccurred to his
mind with curious persistence.
"The letter from my poor brothers ex-
ecutors came just in time, or l should
certainly have lounged away more time
at Toms than would have been either
profitable or sensible. Poor dear Harold !;
| don't see what on earth possessed him
to fall sick and die on the way home from
Venice, and leave his daughter on my
hands too. Why couldn't he have left a
son instead of daughter? l never did
understand woman's way, and what's
more, l don't want to. | am to meet
her at Speedville, and take her home with
me, ell p groaned Mr.. Nerley, referring
despairingly to his letter. "And what am
to do with her when get her there, I'd
like to know? Isupposc she's a great tall
creature, with ringlets and ribbons, and
j
ting sentiment to her-a creature that
reads Byron. and keeps an album, and
eats slate pencils and chalk. I'll send her
to boarding school-that's what Pll do
with my niece-and perhaps when she
has graduated there, the school ma'am
can suggest some means of getting rid of
her. Ofconrse she'll have half dozen
huge trunks, and a bonnet box, and par
rot cage-that's the way women general
ly travel, believe. L am glad l am out
of the way of Barbara's destinations noec.
One woman is quite enough to keep me
distracted with her freaks and her fan
cies-taoo of 'em would drive me to sui
eide p . Aa.il .-.
Mr.. Verley looked out of the car win
dow in sort of calm desperation at the
prospect that lay before him.
81 suppose she'll want a piano, and
maybe poodle dog-and there's no
knowing what else. don't see ,chy Har-
old wanted to die and leave his daughter
to my care just now. Speedville Station
let me see: twenty-seyen miles further
on. l wish it was tweutyseven hundred
miles-that's what l wish -
And, with this vindictive sentiment in
mind, our hero tied silk pocket-hand-
kerchief over his head, and tried to lose
himselfiu aseries of brief, troubled dreams
wherein the vision of a tall niece figured
largely. t*tg
care we here already? ?" he stammered,
starting to his feet, as the conductor
bawled out, "Speedvilie Sta-a-tion ~ and
seizing umbrella, valise and travelling
shawl, with the bustling bewilderment
peculiar to people reused suddenly from
sleep. 'H
Speedville was rather large sized
village, situated at the junction of sever
al railways-a bustling, striving little
place, with an imposing American Goth
ic structure as a depot. Into this build
ing Mr.. Verley walked, looking right and
left for the young lady whose guardian
ship he was about to assume.
''For, of course, /" he reasoned, mentally,
"She'll be on the lookout for me--wo-
men are proverbially curious" . -rt
But Harold Verley's daughter was not
on "the look out" for her unknown uncle.
When the crowd incident to the coming
and going of the evening train had sub
sided, and the people had gone their sew
eral ways, the only remaining occupants
of the depot were Mr.. Verley, lame old
man who sold peanuts and oranges, and
decent looking colored woman with a
brilliant Madras turban on her head, who
took care of the building.
Neither of these personages could pos
sibly be his niece, so Mr.. Verley' after a
little pcrplexed hesitation, addressed HIM
self to the colored woman, who was
briskly polishing the windows, with a
piece of crumpled newspaper. al
"Ahem-I was to meet my niece here
to day. do not see her."
"Your niece, sir 3? What was the name
"Verley-Joseph Verley."
80, yes, sir--she has been here these
two hours, bless her dear heart; she's
asleep now.
"Asleep? gasped Mr.. Verley, but the
stewardess only answered him by bustling
into the inner apartment and bringing
out what appeared to be compact bun
die, with pink face at one end of II and
a mass of long, trailing embroideries at
the other.
Joseph Verley recoiled, as far as the
anole of the wall would. allow him to- n