The Bloomfield times. [volume] (New Bloomfield, Pa.) 1867-187?, 1872-07-23


letters in the pocket of the neglectful ma
tive servant who had undertaken to deliver
the mail to the Calcutta Office.
"But it don't matter SO much now ~
l thought she would be the more delighted
poor, little girl! ~
And then cold chill seemed to creep
through all my veins, like November's
wind suddenly breathed across a bed of
flowers. IAA& >fl t-l ~ l- n.
Clara had heard nothing of me for
fifteen months--%hat might have happened
in that time? All that Tewksbery, and
Jones, and Allen, and all other prophetic
ravens of me acquaintance had said, recur-
red to my mind like burden of an uneasy
dream had been counting the hours
and the very minutes, until we should
touch port-but now that my feet rang
once more on the pavement Of my native
city. actually dared not go home.
turned into down town restaurant,
where had been wont to go, in the days
of my bachelorhood, and skunk into dark
corner-the twilight was just falling, and /
was sheltered by the partition. .u
Hush that was Tewksbery's voice,
harsh and jarring,as of old.
"Just what might have been expected"
said Tewksbery. "Pretty and young
widows don't go begging in this market"
"Follot might have known it," growled
old Farnum. "Poor Folliot, there was
some good points about him, too! sad thing
that, very sad thing p'
"We must all die" said Tewksbery,
gravely.
" Yes, but a fellow would naturally pre-
fer dying in his bed to be carried off by an
East Indian fever and buried in the jun
gles."
shuddered. Had come home to my
own funeral as it were.
"And she is going to marry young
Birmingham after all ?' added Farnum.
The paper dropped from my hand.
al could have told Follot so when
found out the confoundeG idiotic will he
had made" said Tewksbery. So gold has
fallen again. Just my luck; sold out to-
day."
stayed to hear no more, but staggered
out in the darkness with one idea whirling
through my dizzy brain--my Clara was
mine no longer.
1t was unquestionably as Tewksbery
such end Shesvas too young, too lovely
for such rough fellow rs was My
widow what curious sensation the woids
gave as l mentally pronounced them.
Under my own windows, with the ruby
red light shining through the wine-colored
damask curtains l stood there feeling as
Rip Van Wrinkle might have felt in the
play-like dead man walking upon the
earth once more. Voices and lights were
within. opened the door softly and crept
into the hall
The drawing room door was ajar-
Clara herself stood before the fire. with a
frill of white Grape on her auburn gold
tresses-the awful sign of her widowhood.
Directly opposite stood Harry Birming-
ham, looking diabolically young and hand
some in the soft light.
"Clara, Clara" he cried, "you surely
are not in earnest. You will reconsider? ?''
"My answer is final," she replied
"The time might once have been when
l farcied had a childish liking for you,
Harry Birmingham. But that time has
long since passed away. l gave my heart
to the best and noblest man that evei
breathed-Paul Folliot-and in his grave
it is forever buried. loved him once,
shall love him ON into eternity never
was half worthy of him, but"
And Clara's voice was choked with sobs
"My love-my darling-my own precious
wife -
How I ever got into the room-how
managed to make Clara comprehend that
was nay own living self, and not ghost
risen from the shadow of the sepulchre,
cannot tell to this day neither can she, but
know that young Birmingham somehow
disappeared, and was standing with Clara
clasped to my breast, the happiest MAJ
that ever breathed Gods blessed air.
For Jones, Tewksbery, Farnum & Co.
were all wrong-and to use the words o
the orthodox fairy stories, slightly phar
APPRAISED, and my widow lived happil
ever afterwards.
tB In Western city cabinet-make
employed two Germans as porters to delive
his furniture. One morning he loaded hi