The Evansville journal. [volume] (Evansville, Ind.) 1866-1870, 1868-07-23

| gt,gssd alas Adam 81 neyer mar
fhs words Jew out without any viii
Of mine. !.
"Why. Eve, thee is jokingt"
"No, Friend Adam; [ am In down
right earnest. Our engagement has
been a mistake; it is bounden upon
me to say sol | wish thee we'll Adam,
but there's not one spark of love tor
thee in my heart-not one snarkt
"Oh, Eve, Evera
- have deceived thee. Adam. |
beg thy pardon, If thee had enlisted
as thee said thee would, L should
have kept my word if it had killed
me. Now, as long as thee breaks Thy
own promise, how can thee hold me
to minet"
Adam gazed at me In stupor.
What | mad said was not to be com
pretended in a minute.
But Eve, thee wouldn't break
thv friends hearth" ,
lie looked asif the blow had
crushed him. 1 wanted to sink into
the earth. / deeply pitied the man |
had wronged. But what was, spoken
was spoken. and even if / could /
would not have taken it back. a
When I told father of it he was
sorely d~isploased.
He had thy promise, daughter
thy faithful promised"
How could father look me in the
face and say that n VCNAX4
Father" said |, earnestly, 81 be-
lieve 1 was led fo stnfa IFs baa
Adam fingered about the house.,
and besought aud beset me till / was
nearly wild. Even my pity was spent
at last, and L entreated him to sum-
mon all his manhood and go away
Then came out the true secret of
his persistence. He had used my
| capital In speculation and lost half of
it. IF [ would not marry him, what
would become of him, for he could not
pay it back. La9
So it was not loUe but debt that had
agonized him so! Thee may know 1
was only too glad to forgive the
coward what he owed. heard moth
ing more about lacerated affections;
and the bringing fellow went away
very. well pleased. Then my heart
danced for joy. The world might say
what it pleased. / was free, and even
my father was heartily glad of the turn
things had taken.
Thus ends the first chapter OF my
preachment; and if thee doesn't see
the moral, it is. this:
"A bad promise is better broken
than kept" sa ai4e
The second chapter of my story i:
very short; / mean that part of il
which viii bear telling.
Friend Edward came home from
the army. [ was vesy shy about let
ting him see how glad / was, for
had no more right to any emotion.
now than / had when he went away
though for a different reason.
Why, Eve, no welcome for me?'
Everybody can't be as pleased a
Miriam, [ suppose said [; and
wished next minute | could bite m.
t tongue out for its fooIishnessl
Thee doesn't say thee believe
( that silly gossip" said Friend Ed
ward, reproachfully, looking as bright
: nevertheless, as a June sunbeam.
D why, why, thee knows it's n
? concern of mine" stammered L, lik
an idiot. 4
Then there was more said on bot
t sides.
Ay-and-b by 1 ventured to look up
: "Ah, Friend Edward, if thee realI
t loves me so much as that, | think th
least [ can do is to-to-be true
myself" D.
That remark of mine was rath,
ambiguous; but it appeared to 81,
g entire satisfaction it showed Frier
Edward that | remembered and +
! spected his advice. q.
h Mr.. Douglass said he to n
father, can you consent to give yol
y daughter to one of the worlds pc
ple?'
l. "As to that" replied myfather, b
e nignly, If the girl t0iU marry out
y meeting. I'd as soon give her to tn
- as to any one [ know"
10 Which was saying a good deal I
3; father. ars
eli Cousin Sophia did not seem at fl
rs altogether pleased; but after she
if cided to marry the Reverend Sc
Up Witham, of Marlboro, her views
Id my prospects Underwent a Sehange.
Adam and Miriam have gone
En housekeeping across the river, ike
We pair of turtle doves.
Il Edward and | were welded thu
IOt years ago come next fourth mont
| and it is a true marriage; so | suppl
-er thee will say, that is all thee cares
as hear, about it.
2