The Bloomfield times. [volume] (New Bloomfield, Pa.) 1867-187?, 1872-12-03
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met before, sir, !" growied Mr.. Magog 'and
if you know what is best for yourself, we
shall never meet again" t
"On the contrary, my dear cir, hope to
have the pleasure of meeting you quite Of
ten in the future. The truth is, Mr.. Ma
gog, l am very much in love with your
daughter, and / am happy to inform you
that she reciprocates my love-"
"Ten thousand"
"Hold, Mr.. Magog Don't excite your
self, beg. Hear me out, and then, if you
desire it, will retire, for this evening, at
least"
Mr.. Magog flung himself into chair,
quite overcome with rage, for our hero was
so exceedingly cool that he didn't know
what to do or say; and he had found that
he couldn't frighten him.
"Go on, young man. Say what you've
got to say, and then leave the house."
"Thank you. Believe me, shall remem-
Der this kindness, and repay it when have
the right, as your son-in-law."
Mr.. Magog glared but said nothing.
"Look at me, sir. In form and feature
l am certainly not very Objectionable. AS
for my family, whatever they were, am
the only representative of the family left"
"That's lucky, 'sneered Mr.. Magog.
Perhaps So" continued Hugh. "I
have nothing to say about that" .a
"Go on''
"Well, sir, have not so much wealth as
| I,.A L 7 l.
"And you're spending it YOURSELF"
growled Magog. "Now, see here, young
man, what are you driving atP What do
want ?"
"Iwant your daughter" answered Nc
Gonagle.
"And you can't have her."
''Aud your daughter wants me-"
But she can't have you.''
"Je6erson J"
Mr.. Magog sprang half way across the
ROOM "What the deuce was that? Who
spoke ?" he asked; but no one answered.
Della was staring at her grandfather's
portrait and trembling, while McGonagle
was staring at the same portrait and shiv-
ering.
"Who spokeP" stammered Magog, look
ing wildly around him.
81 Ispcke'"
'Twas the portrait ~ gasped Della,
throwing he rself into her lovers arms for
protection %
"Ha what?- portrait 9-my father?"
And Mr.. Magog trembled till his teeth fair
ly chartered.
"Yes, it is your father Jefferson Ma
gog," said the portrait; and its terrible
eyes seemed to gleam fiercer than ever.
Wha-what do you want of me P'
asked Mr.. Magog in hoarse whisper,
staring fxedly at the portrait; and then
suddenly gaining courage, "Pshaw. what
a fool
"Who do you call fool ?'' demanded
the portrait, in a terrible voice.
"By heaven I'll know the meaning of
this" cried Mr. Magog, springing forward
and dashing his right foot into the middle
of the canvas. Then he staggered back.
"There isn't any one hid behind there"
The portrait laughed, "Ha, ha, ha W
but it didn't smile. No, it looked just as
fierce as ever, and that terrible laugh made
Mr.. Magog's blood curdle in his veins. The
color left his cheek, great beads of perspi-
ration broke out upon his face he stag
gered back and fell into seat.
" This is no mortal business" /" lie groan-
ed.
Jefferson" said the portrait, assuming
an injured tone, "aren't you ashamed to
strike your poor old father2''
"Great heavens ! cried Mr.. Magog, in
agony, "if you are my father, tell me what
you want of me-"
List, 0 list unhappy man." began the
portrait. "Have you not already caused
misery enough in the worlds and do you
wish to add to your manifold sins and wick
ednesses by dividing two loving heartsP'
"What !" cried Mr.. Magog, springing to
his feet, while his eyes rolled from the por-
trait to the lovers.
"Hold not word, Jefferson said the
portrait, in voice that struck terror to his
heart "If thou didst ever thy dear father
love-"
Shakespeare" muttered Magog. "The
old man always was fond of Hamlet"
"Then step not between this young man
and this fair maiden" continued the por-
trait. =" They belong to each other. Give
thy consent TO their union.'
"Neverp yelled Magog, writhing in
agony upon his chair.
"You must p said the portrait, once