The daily phoenix. [volume] (Columbia, S.C.) 1865-1878, 1867-06-14

| On, don't gor slyt
81 must, love, I'said, us 1 pushed
back from her forehead the clusters
of bright sunny hair. s'Don't be
silly, child,"I added, as I kissed a
foolish little tear from her cheek.
"You know We don't dine till 6, on
account of Uncle John. Ishall leave
the city at 5; half an hours walk
home; half an hours chat with him
4 suppose Ee's sure to come, by
the-by?'' ~ I
"Of course he will. Oh, that hor-
rid bank! You make me quite angry;
and the first Christmas since our
marriage, too"
"Well, goodbye, love. 1t won't
happen again. must be off now.
It's getting late, and unless L am
punctual, | can't expect to be re-
lieved in time"
eff you're minute later than
half-past 5, I'll never kiss you any
more. Goodbye, bad boy!" and,
half laughing, half crying, she opened
the door to let me out.
It was a lovely morning, but very
cold. L walked sharply along Hol-
born to the city, through streets that
to me (mostly used to their weekday
aspect) looked strangely deserted.
AS the clock struck 8, knocked at
the entrance. Cole, the watchman,
opened it to me.
every cold, SIR"
eyes," said, "fne morning. All
right, Cole?"
"Not mouse stirring" he an
swered, unconsciously quoting Ham
let.
''Havc they sent in my lunch?"
[ had ordered some fowl and
bottle of claret from the neighboring
Kings Head.
cit came in last night, sir. You'll
find it on the counter, between the
scales"
''That's right; candles and coals?"
Everything there, SIR"
Every good, Cole; then don't stop
minute longer, for L shan't give
you any grace"
sIll be here punctual at 5. You
can depend on me. When 1 shut the
inner door, sir, you will please put
up the bar. III shut the outer one
after me. The housekeeper and
family are all out for the day; but
I've seen that you've got everything.
You'll have the house all to yourself" :"
$50 much the better. / shall be
quiet. Do you smoke, Cole?"
''As you offer me cigar, sir, I'll
keep it, with your permission; but L
never smoke till night
81 do" L said, as L stopped to the
blazing fire.
"Would you like the fire lit in the
"No," 1 said; ''it's too cold in
there, with the sky-light. Good
morning, Cole" said, as I let him
out. "1ou'n be punctual?"
Gas the clock, SIR" he answered.
And having watched him down the
paved court, into the lane, l. shut the
outer door, locked and barred the
inner one, and then stretched myself
before the fire on couple Of chairs.
So l lay, reading, till, all over the
city, broke out the chimes, and, close
by, the little cracked bell Of the al
most deserted church rang out, for
half an hour, its warming to Il few
worshippers that the hour of service
had come. tried to picture to my
self tho people whose footsteps 1
heard, now and then, along the court.
Now, it was an old, infirm step that
tottered by, nearing the grave every
hour; and then L heard, mingled
with other steps, the pattering of n
child's feet, and the -crry little voice
ringing through the cold air. After
a while, they all ceased. The tinl1-
ling bell stopped, and then, softened
by distance, came the peais of the
rich old organ. How strange it
seemed to me to be there alone; and
to walk up and down the partners
room, rs did, profaning with the
smoke of my cigar those hallowed
precincts
Again and again I heard the soft
tones of the organ, and when it be-
gan playing the psalm before the ser
mon, ran up stairs to have Il look at
the church. The dingy trees in the
church-yard, too hardy to be choked
out of existence, were sooty black,
and withered; cotld such sticks ever
come to life again? 1t was n dismal
place in winter, and looked, just now,
doubly cold and cheerless, for snow
had begun to fall heavily, and was
fast forming white lines on the ledge
which projected over the fire ladders,
and along the tombs built into the
walls. L gave a shudder, and hurried