Des Arc weekly citizen., 1868-05-02
Peterson's MagaEme.]
 MIR. MOUNTERyILLE.
BY MAY CARLETON.

His name was Mounterville-J ohm l Frederick Mounterville. That sounds romantic, doesn't it ]? like the hero of a high-pressure novel, you know, but for all that he wasn't bit romantic. Fans cy thirty y-five years, five foot six, two hundred pounds weight, horid com plexion, and sandy whiskers, and point out out the romance, ifyou dare. That was Mr. J. F. Mounterville; and he kept the large grocery store up the vil- lage, and sold kerosene, and hog's- lard, and pork, and butter, and molas- ses; and if there's anything romantic or sentimental in all that, l shall be happy to have you tell me of it. How he ever came to be Monnteevile, the gods above only know. Ifeyer Smith Peter or Samuel--was written in 6 "human face divine it was in Mir Mountervillc's But for all that it was his name, real and bona fide, and had been his fathers and prandfa5aer be- fore him, and was likely to be his son's if he ever got that far, for Mir. John Frederick Mounterville, grocer, was s bachelor. And that is how l come to be writing about him to-day; for ofall the odd things that ever happened, l thought then, and l think now, the oldest was, that that man should go aud fall in love with me.
 You sec ma--iua's a widow, and I'm her only one, and we keep the village school ma used to send mo to the grocery store for the butter, and sugar, and tea, and coffee of everyday life, and Mr. Mounterville used to wait on me a good deal, and make pleasing lit tic remarks about the weather, and the prices-current, and our school, and things generally. 1 didn't notice it myself, at first, that there was any dis play of the tender passion in all this, for one would as soon have thought of a kangaroo ill love as Mir. Mounter- vile; but sPhil Marks, one of the clerks, got into q way of grinning ' lodging off to wait on some other cus- toner, and leaving mo to "the boss" And then, by-and-by, in sheepish and shamefaoed sort of way, Mir. Noun teryille took to making me presents. Not bouquets of hot-house exotics, or Tennyson in gold and azure, or illumi- mated sheets of music, but nice little cakes of cheese, and pounds of roll butter, and drums of figs, and bottles of pickles, and such like, until gradual ly my eyes began to open to the truth, and realized the staggering fact that my black eyes and raven tresses had wrought havoc inside Mir. Mounter- villes capacious vest.
 When the thrilling conviction first dawned upon me 1 stood stunned, speeches., for about ten minutes and a half Then sat down in the nearest chair, and laid my head back, and laughed, and laughed, and laughed, and laughed, until ma came running up, and stood before me, with tears in her eyes, and the camphor-bottle in her hand, thinking it was mysteries.
 Go away, ma," said, as soon as I could speak, 'it isn't that---l mean hys- terics; it's Mir. Mounterville."
 "Mr. MounterviIle, Whatever has Mir. Mounterville done ?"
 "Nothing much, only-oh! good gra- cious." another paroxysm, "only, ma, can't you see through the little cheeses, and rolls of butter, and figs, and saul sages yetp"
 "See through them, Lucinda! What do you meanl"
 "Means Why, ma, look here; bat might see it-Mr. Mounterville's in lovew
 What! Lucinda, my child" with 8 look of horror; ''you never mean to say the unhappy man has fallen in love with ME"
 'No, ma, not with. you--only with me-"
 'Iucindap
 "It's true, ma; it has rushed upon mo all at once like an Alpine avalanche Cheeses and sausages are Mir. Noun terville's way of breathing his souls deepest feelings. l know what Phil Marks grins mean now; and I've only to say the word, and I'm oertsin to