Oxford Democrat. [volume] (Paris, Me.) 1833-1933, 1869-12-25

Dut not IODS ulu WdlCh NY uV"oiS'
for, my dear. at this very party | first saw
hin,--my ideal hero-my fairy prince.
From all that goodly company singled
him out at n glance There were the
dark blue eyes, there was the Greek pro-
file, the black curly hair, the Byron peak
and all.
Imagine the emotions Of your friend
when to her secluded window-seat this
very young gentleman was brought by
her hostess and presented rs "Mr. John
Trevalyan." II it wasn't just Trevalyan,
il was quite rs respectable name. The
John I'll stand by.
Mr.. Trevalyan talked of poetry, art.
music and flowers, in a low, sweet, be-
quilting particular way, after the manner
Of his kind. He said, of all the fine arts,
his enthusiasm was decidedly for sculpture
$50 cold, so pure, so exalted and he
begged to know if shared his aesthetic
preference.
suppose, if had been properly train.
ed or 4 year or two older, | might have
answered: 81 am cnrapturcd with music,
Beethoven. Mozart. Henry Russell, and
the Scguins. I dearly love art-Titian,
Michael Angelo, and Benjamin West; but
adore poetry-Milton. Byron and n. 2.
Willis"
As It was, with desperately honest
impulse, replied: IL admire art and mu-
sic, poetry and all such things, but don't
know much about them yet. To tell The
plain truth, my particular enthusiasm is
just horses! suppose it's pervcrse and
improper, and all that but do know
something about horses and like them. y
Myhero smiled in beaming, indulgcnt
way, and declared that he participated in
my enthusiasm that his love for horses
amounted to quite passion, and that he
flattered himselfhe owned the fastest trot-
ter in all that region.
All! at that moment, to quote from dear
Miss Bremen, "our souls met"
Mysterious sympathy of passionate
young hearts
His eyes, upon Il nearer view were gray
but their expression vas full Of poetic
sensibility. They beamed with that tender
Difference, half wistful, half wicked, hard,
est of all looks for even "little women TO
resist. suspect the fellow knew it. They
all do.
At parting he begged from my bouquet
sprig of geranium, which he placed in
his button-holc 'for remembrance" Then
he asked leave to visit me, which gra-
ciously accorded. Then we murmured
our adicuX.
went home with my head among the
stars. Ny dear, absurd rs it may seem
really believed had that night met my
destiny, and met it, on the whole, in a
very satisfactory shape.
| did not know just when to look Tor my
admirer, but WAS ready for him, morning
and evening. grew strangely careful oi
of my dress. assiduously brushed and
curled my hair. applied cosmetics to
my sunburnt face. | slept IN kid gloves.
Six days waited in vain. The seventh
magic number. brought him, but
letter. 1t was dainty. looking missiyc
all rose-tintco and glt-edged.
1t was directed-this letter of letters
in one of those rearing Italian hands once
so fashionable. 1t was sealed with lilac.
colorcd wax, and the seal bore the motto
how well rememberit it, though didn'
in the least know what it meant then-o
"T0yours fdele".
With my heart beating into my finger
tips, | broke the seal opened the letter
The very first line was something start
lingly unequivocal-"Ny dearest Lore
Without waiting to read another wore
turned the leaf TO look at the signature
"oh! my prophetic SQUIRT was "Johr
Trevalyan.'
/ made no copy OF that letter, ant
fond memory has been little unfaithfu
in regard to the exac, wording. know
that read it with great satisfaction-il
especial love-like inventory which i
contained Of my most amiablc and admir-
able characteristics. There were thing
set down there that had supposed known
only to myself.
Toward its close the letter assumed
practical tone. II will with your leave,
it ran, "call on your father in day o
two. In the mean time, love, perhap
You had better confide our dear secret t
no one, unless it be your brother Tom"
All heavens! Me letter was not for me
Alas! had no "brother Tom"
Providence had been bountiful in son
to our house. Our cup had run over wit
that particular sort of blessing, but tn
respectable name or Thomas had some
how never struck my mothers rovin,
fancy. AT the baptismal font she ha
never given it in.
Fatal omission.
"Madam you might have saved m
from this"
Ire-sealed that letter. ! sent it wit
all lldispatch, and courteous apology. T.
my double, now my rival. | was wretch
ed but | could not be base.
Yes, she married my John. Atler tina
/ got no more OF her letters, which wa
some consolation.
i N. IL. ,ai.aitu - IN La