The Plymouth Democrat. (Plymouth, Ind.) 1869-1941, 1870-07-14

| AT tne WnOle DlOodtnlrsty pack, VINO, now
in full cry, were hcvering in our wake.
The warps of the two fully-manned
| whale boats were skillfully thrown up tC
me, and with those twelve resolute sea
mea on her deck, the Warsaw might bic
| defiance to any number of piratica
canoes. The tOpsails were hoisted at once
and everything trimmed. We closed
rapidly with the other ship, and l soor
had the pleasure of shaking by the hant
my former shipmate, Baylies, now in com
mand of the Calypso, and of presenting
my heroic little lieutenant, Jessie.
| A gang of men were spared sufficient
20 work the Warsaw, and together the two
ships bore away for Sydney. Here the
| damages were repaired, a crew shipped
and the consul put me in charge OF her tC
| take her home
The little Scotch girl, thus left upon the
world, became a member of cur family
My mother and Maria wo,id have as
| sented 10 any arrangement, if | had sug
| gested it; but their whole hearts were en-
| listed in the orphans welfare, when they
| learned the whole story of the adventures
which she had shared with me- The
small sum Of money found among hel
| fathers effects was carefully applied
toward her clothing and education; and
| bidding her tender farewell, left her tC
| follow up my profession.
made two voyages after this, md a.
each return | found Jessie all that the
tondest and most careful guardian could
desire. In all respects she was equal, in
some superior, TO my sister; and, had they
been twins, they could not have loved
| each other better.
| Jessie WAS twenty years old at the time
| | arrived home in command OF the Green
| wich. know not at what particular time
| during that voyage | began to think il
Was possible that she and | might love
| each other. | think this feeling came
| upon me very gradually. Perhaps it may
| have been something in the tone of heI
letters; for she always wrote to me much
| as a sister might write to an elder brother
but her letters, on this voyage, were not
quite so affcctionate as at first There was
a little embarrassment i'll the manner and
| style. Yet this was but natural when
| reflected uDon it. But ii must have been
this very change that put me in the way
| of rejecting. There was, after all, moth
| ing very awkward or anomalous in our
position toward each other. She was
| simply member of our family, an adopt
ed daughter, as it were, of my mother
But, wishing to support herself, she had
found employment as a teacher, and in
sisted upon paying her board. This
had learned from the various letters re-
coived and, of course, l admired her in
dependent spirit
l kept pondering the matter till il
formed the Chief subject Of my thoughts
through many long night watch. / did
not know of any other woman whom |
could love so WE'LL was only thirty-three,
even though | had been a bearded second
mate when she was wee sprite of child.
After all, the disparity of age was not so
very great and perhaps
But could not bear the thought of hav-
ing her marry meas perhaps she might,
it L asked her-frOm any feeling of graft
tude or obligation. Though | am satisfied
since that | wronged her, even in think
ing she might do so.
She had developed into beautiful
woman W hen we next mot she wac 'Si
IOiltlJ roud Of mo as ever, Tor the tears
came into her eyes at sight of me. But
! she did not, of course, rush into mv arms
and kiss me with the old childish abandon.
All of which was natural enough, when /
came to consider upon it.
/ took occasion very soon after my ar
| rival to speak to my sister, alone, about
Jessie / think | asked if she had any
suitor And perhaps | was transparent
enough to betray the interest / felt in
Maria's answer. At any rate she looked
at me very roguishly.
"NO," eaid she, "nOne that know Of
| wish she might have-that is, an ac-
cepted or an acceptable one. L didn't
mean to say that no suitors had applied
| l..
els she so hard TO suit, then ?" / asked.
avery" said Maria. "Yet l think ]
know a man whom she would not re-
| fuse"
"Indeeds Who is the favored One'"
"You are the last person who ough,
! to ask the question. Go look in the
glass;" she added, as she rose to leave
| me. -
"But l am too old Maria" This in
spite of having long ago argued myself
| into the belief that | was not.
"TOO old to look in the glass, do yor
meaus" asked my sister, innocently
She doesn't think So" mischievously
again.
| "Stayr' said 1, OBTAINING her, and be
coming very imperative and serious all a
once 81 am your brother, Maria Do
not Jest or trifle with my feelings"
"Not for worldsp she returned, ever
more seriously than 1 myself had spoken
Neither with yours, Priam, nor will
hers, for is she not as my twin sister ?"
90, the unreasonable inquisitiveness o
man! To ask woman how she know
in a case like this! There, let me 90
now. But, Priam," added the dear girl
turning back, and striking a tragic atti
tude, "thou canst not say did it"
OF course l couldn't but l thought
might do it myself, on this hint. And
think was hardly happier myself thai
were Maria and our mother, when the,
learned that Jessie and were to sail tn
voyage of life together. She doesn'
know any better than do, on the othe
hand, ut what particular time she foun'
out she loved her old guardian. But W
both agree that it is of no great conse
|