Centre Hall reporter. [volume] (Centre Hall, Pa.) 1868-1871, 1871-02-03
WHY HE MARRIED.

And don I YOU know when YOU will
pass through this part Of the country again,
Mr. Verley ?n
"NoI don't said the old bachelor, de-
cIdedly.
He was something Of bear to answer
so crustily when Babara Smith stood in
the doorway, with the shadowy lashes
drOOping over the soft brown ewes, and the
roses melting into deep carrnine on her
rosy cheeks, until her muslin dress was
plain in comparison. Such a petty. big
eyed, loving little Barbara rs she was. in
all the blonde freshness Of her eighteen
summers, and the soft sigh that fluttered
from her lips as the one-horse carriage
drove away, was checked Instantly. Bar
bara had no idea of becoming n victim to
unrequited love. though she had rather
iancied Mr.. Verley during his brief sOiurn
at her fathers house.
Mr.. Verley drove away through the
rustling green draperies Of the summer
lanes, whistling sadly as he drove
a shall be in very good time Tor the
1880 tram" he meditated to himself
Punctuality is the soul Of business, and
never was one Of the behind-hand tribe,
thank Providence. Besides, think il was
becoming dangerous 70 remain in that
place any longer. / am thirty-nine to-
morrow, and that IS Just twenty years too
old for me to 90 making fool Of myself
Fancy me getting married No you don't.
Joseph Vericy. my friend
As he settled himself comfortably in the
crowded railroad car, and opened letter.
the subject again occurred to his mind
with curious persistence.
The letter ofmy poor brothers excu-
tor came just IN time, or should certainly
have fooled away more time than would
have been sensible or profitable. Poor
dear Harold; / don't see what On earth
possessed him TO fall sick and die on his
way home from Venice and leave his
daughter ON my hands too. Why could
he not have left son instead of daugh-
teri never did understand a woman's
ways, and what's more, don't want too
am to meet her at Speedville, and take
her home with me. "0p' groaned Mr..
Verley, referring despairingly to his letter.
And what I'm going TO do with her when
get there, I'd like TO know Tsuppose
she's a great creature, with ringlets and
ribbons, and just as IitaIy as not an Italian
lover talking sentiment to her-a creature
that reads Byron, and keeps an album,
and eats slate-pencils and chalk TIL send
her to boarding school, that's what I'll
do with my niece-and perhaps when she
has graduated there the schoolmaster can
suggest some means Of getting rid Of her
or course she'll have dozen large trunks,
and a bonnet box and a parrots cage
that's the way women generally travel,
believe. | am glad | am out Of the way
OF Barbara's fascinations nown
Mr.. Verley looked out or the car win
dow, in sort Of calm desperation at the
prospect before him
q lsuppose she'll want piano. and may
be poodle dog, and there's no knowing
what else. ] don't see why Harold want
ed 20 die and leave his daughter to my care
just now. Speedville station-twenty-
seven miles further. | wish il was
twenty-seven hundred miles-that's what
] WISH"
And with this vindictive sentiment in
his mind, our hero tied red silk handker-
chief over his head, and tried to lose him
self in a series of brief troubled dreams.
wherein the vision of tall, nice young
lady figured conspicuously.
Are we here already 2" he stammercd.
starting to bis feet, as the conductor
bawled out "Speedville Station" and
seizing umbrella, valise and travelling
shawl, with the bustling bewilderment
peculiar to people just aroused from sleep,
he alighted
Speedville was rather large-sized vii
Iage. situated at the junction of several
railways, with an imposing American
Gothic structure for a depot. Into this
building Mr.. Verley walked, looking right
and left for the young lady whose guardian
ship he was to assume
"Of course" he responded mentally,
"she'll be on the lookout for me women
are proverbially curious"
But Harold Verley's daughter was not
on the lookout for her uncle. When the
crowd incident to the evening train had
subsided and the people had gone their
different ways, the only remaining occu-
pants Of the depot were Mr.. Verley, lame
old man who sold peanuts and apples, and
decent looking colored woman, with a
brilliant Madras turban ON her head, who
took care Of the building. Neither of these
could be his niece, SO Mr.. Verley, after
little perplexed hesitation, addressed him
self to the colorsd woman, who was busily
polishing the window with piece Of
crumbled newspaper. 4