Litchfield enquirer., 1869-11-18

suAb aal Io LazassA.l <. .. .-A a-L..a Ll- : 57T -IIE7- IT a77-TT0T7 TsfETTfTG W-7 ] TG-- 7-- s.4 tt.Well she's gone,'' said he, s.and sup pose might as we'll burn up the ittle notes; to tell the truth, I always hated to. they were such pretty little things" e1a
 Andyou'ye kept kbems all this time?' W a iss have arre really, Alfred the Great. I mus ,u
 cenfessit andaI thing there is little locl of hair, yonngl love. iyon know!' He smil ed, but I thought there was sigh at the end of it. As'we stepped out of the boa
 he took the newspaper, and, rolling it into a. ball, threw it into the water, saying
 Farewell, little Miss Inman," and witt
 it, for aught I could see. the sigh disap speared. .4L Saa Gt sf:.sG gt-ga9I3na l5fa
 Y Three. years slipped away.ss Tom came
 home twice a year, looking better, more
 manly, and, to me, more delightful eacI
 time. I summed myself in those weeks, ol days. I always felt less stiff and stupid ir
 society with him.. and when he was al
 home, used to visit at his fathers, and go'
 on famo nsly. often wished I could gc there with the same ease when he was away. Eas ft1fa5is sr-iuo 4efs
 About this time an uncle of mine died in Detroit, leaving his affairs at loose ends and I went out to look after them. Ol coursP, when had finished, being within an odd hundred miles of Tom, pushed on. I reached his rooms in the evening, and learning the number, walked quietly up stairs and tapped at the door. thought the response ''Come in" was not in his usual key. He was binding up a bruised ann, and looked pale. But he for got the bruises, and gave me such greet ing as does away with fatigue.
 "But what's the matter, Tom" touching his arm; chow did tbis happen?"
 ':An in good time; thereby hangs tale which youashall have presently, meantime I'm not much hurt, rely upon that, old fel- low. That you should get there just now, of all the nights in the year."
 -a I shall try to give his story as he gave it. for I remember it we'll A memorable night it was to me, for then I first knew, and took the knowledge, bitter as it was, into my heart. that was to loose, yea, that I had already, in 2 degree lost my Jonathan.
 ssTwo days ago went to Niles. I had engaged to meet man there on refer ence case; we finished our business in the evening, and I intended to return on the early express train, but slept too long and was obliged to wait for the next one. I found the cars full, and, as always do Imet several acquaintances who whiled the time away, and we were within an hour of home, when there was dreadful crash, most awful sensation of being scat tered in fragments, and knew. nothing more until I found myself lying on the cannot describe, and I wish I might enever again think of the scene around me. I fear shall see it for many day. rose as quickly as possible, and tried to help my fellow sufferers. All but one were found alive, though some, l fear, were mortally injured l had already assisted several unfortunate creatures, when I saw Q lady making great effort to rise; she had a child in her arms" (Tom put his hand in mine) ''She was dressed in black. Her face did not see. I went to her and offered my assistance. Ali, it was Agnes Inman. She knew me at once. 'Oh, MT. Grey, how thankful am to see you! If yeu will get me little water, my Agnes has tainted. j One glance showed me that the little spirit was too far on its way to the still waters for recall. l can't tell you all I took the poor lady, Mrs. Rutledge, to a hotel, sent for doctor, and we did all that could be done to satisfy her mothers heart; at last she gave it up." (Tom covered his face 3sThe shock was too much for her; for a long time I doubt ed if she would breathe again. At last her eyes opened, and to please us she tried to swallow something. After all was done for her comfort I proposed to tell agraph to her friends. When she could trust herself to speak, she said: T have no frion6o That oovo ho m EftIp girl has gone to meet her father whom she Ifelt; all the old feeling that l hardly knew existed, and that I buried in the little pond at home that day when l found it did exist all rushed upon me. Icould not speak, sat I know not long; how cold and hard she must have thought me. When I could push myself out of myself, I learned that she had only an old and feeble father to whom she was journeylng her husband had been dead for two yeafs." ra 9Hi1y4gsr ? ef ....fF
 Here he pulled out his watch. "Deai old fellow, you'll excuse me, must go and inquire after her before it is any later" 9n s.Nay, Tom, said I, 'tyou go not alone your burden is mine; I go too. We set off together. n.ssSilence is deeper than all speech.'", Not word was spoken, and we parted at the door of the hctel with grasp of the hand. Ipaced up and down and very soon Tom rejoinedl me. sEob -~..
 ''She is far too much worn ont to talk she only put out her hand and said: ] cannot do otherwise; may I trouble you and trust you to arrange what is necessary? tell you Alfred the touch of that little hand would put life into Q clod." 5a..e.e.
 It is only real nobility of soul which knows how to trust. In all my lifelong love for Tom, nothing was more delightful to me, even while I rebelled againsh it, than the rare, and could almost say di- vine frankness tso little is it human), with which he opened his heart to me-;
 -o In day CT two little Agnes Rutledge was buried there. Her father slept be- heath the broad Atlantic, ,and there appear ed no good reason why any other arrauge- fhent should be made Of course Tom begged the privilege of making all the sad and "gave no sign" beyond the most considerate attention to every de- tail 10 He would have done itwith cordial for any one;1 and yet I think women's sensibiities must be very obtnse, if she did not feel his heart throb through it all ----.+~r--- - o11" s"
 The days slipped by; I could as easily have stepped. out from any chapter of my own life, as to leave Tom there; and such was the completeness of our friendship that think it never occurred to Tom that