Spirit of the age. [volume] (Woodstock, Vt.) 1845-1913, 1873-01-16

icate young ladies, good for nothing
but to display the latest fashions, and
waltz a little, and torture the piano.
Better some rosy, sturdy Gretchen than
o poor doll like them. 1t would be a
shame for Tom, with his splendid
physique and vigorous brain, to be tied
for life to such woman! !! And then,
turning down School St., my thoughts
wandered off to a blue-eyed girl I had
loved for many a year-a girl who was
not satisfied with the small triumphs
of the croquet ground, but who could
send the arrow straight home to the
mark and climb the hills with me,
her step as light and free as the deer's
in the glade below and hold a steady
oar in our boat on the river; and swim
ashore, if need should be; and then,
when walk or row was over, who
could sit down to a lunch of cold meat
and bred and butter with an appetite
as keen as a yonng Indians after a
days hunt; yes, and who knew how
to be efficient in the kitchen and the
rarest ornament of. the parlor. How
impatient | was to see her, the bewitch-
ing maiden whom a prince might have
been proud to marry. And again |
said to myself, as went up the Parker
House steps: II do hope Tom hasn't
made a fool Of himself!'
-Four o'clock found me at the station I;
and a moment latter in walked Tom,
carrying basket filled with Jersey
peaches. "They don't grow in Green
land said he, tucking the paper down
over the fruit. "Come this way |
followed him, and we had just seated
ourselves comfortably in the car when
the train moved off.
Now for the story, Tom, said as
we crossed the bridge and caught the
breeze cool from the sea. "But I can
guess beforehand the girl you married
1t was Clara Maitland"
y shadow passed over Toms face.
Clara has been dead four years." said
he. "She inherited consumption from
her mother. We did everything for
her-took her to Minnesota and to
Florida; but it was Of no use. She
didn't live to see her eighteenth birth
day.
Poor Clara She loved you dearly,
Then | suppose you chose some Boston
girl Of your acquaintance ?"
"Jack, you couldn't tell who Mrs.
Tom Foster was if you should try from
now till tomorrow morning. | shall
have to enlighten you" And moving
his basket to one side and settling him
self in his seat, he went on: "You
know have the misfortune to be an
only child. After I was twenty-one,
father and mother began to talk about
my marrying. have plenty Of cous-
ins, YOU know, and we always had
young ladies going in and out of the
house but while Clara lived, she was
company for me, and after she died |
was full Of business, and didn't trouble
myself about marrying. To tell the
truth, Jack, | didn't fancy the girls.
Perhaps was unfortunate in my ac-
ouaintances; but they seemed to me
all curls and founces and furbelows,
and | would as soon have thought Of
marrying fashion-plate as one Of these
elaborate creatures. | don't object to
style | like it. But you can see fine
gowns and bonnets any day in the
Washington street windows; and my
ideal Of woman was one whose dress
is her least attraction.
"Do you recollect fathers former
partner, Adam Lane? He's a clever
old gentleman and millionaire, and
father has the greatest liking and re-
spect for him. He has two daughters
one married years ago and the 9th
er, much younger, father fixed upon
as @ desirable wife for me. | rather
think the two families had talked it
over together; at any rate, Miss Matil-
da came to Greenland for long sum-
mer visit. She is an amiable girl; but
so pettcd and spoiled that she's good
for nothing-undeveloped in mind and
body. She looked very gay in the
evenings, attired in Jordan, Marsh d
Co. s latest importatlons. But she was
always late to breakfast; she didn't
dare to ride horseback she couldn't
take walk without stopping to rest on
every stone; and once when | asked
her if she had read the account of the
battle OF Sedan, she looked up, in her
childish way, and said: No, Mr. Fos-
ter. Newspapers are sotiresome.' Bless
NE! what should | have done with
such n baby?
"a year ago this summer | was very
much confined to the store and, when
August came, instead of spending the
whole month at home, | thought |
would have a little change, and so |
went down to the Cliff House for a
fortnight, on - Beach. It's a quiet,
pleasant resort, and you'll always find
from fifty to one hundred people there
during the season. The landlord is a
good fellow and distant relative of
mine, | thought he looked hurried when
went in, and after few minutes he
took me one side and said:
"Tom, you've come at an unlucky
time. | had a very good cook, that l
GOT from Boston, at twenty dollars a
week; but she is high-tempered
woman. Last evening she quarreled
with hnr assistants this mnrninn the