Spirit of the age. [volume] (Woodstock, Vt.) 1845-1913, 1873-01-02

of names, that one is Andrews"
''But surely, John" said, 'you must
have reason for this. What can it
be?" and slipped off his knee on to
the lounge, and made preparations to
listen comfortably to long story; for
my brother had been great traveller,
and had the power, when he felt like
it, Of taking his hearers with him to
every place he had visited. | soon
found that this was one of the times
when he didn't feel like it, for he said,
with a smile and a good-natlred shrug
Of his broad shoulders:
"You got all fixed for it, didn't you,
little curiosity-shop? bnt its no go. |
had q friend once who bore that name
that's all; and he disgraced himself
and his name, and caused a few of us
coed deal of trouble. That's the
sum and substance Of it; but all this
happened a good while ago, and it isn't
worth thinking about. Come, off with
YOU to the dress-maker of the odious
name, while | go down town and see
What the news is"
1t was natural, [ suppose, that |
should speculate little about this Sc
cret of Johnston that it was a secret
was quite sure by the way he dismiss
ed me from his confidence; and so as
| rode along to the street and number
where | was directed to find this won
derful dress-maker, who could fit with
out measurement and trim without pat
terms, | immagined all sorts Of strange
adventures for my brother, in which
everything conceivable figured, pistols
and coffee, ETC., etc. .; IN short, every
thing except love. That could never
have befal]en him, or should have
heard Of it. True, John had been
away from lis for at least five years,
and during large portion of that time
we had scarcel ly heard from him. Still,
had he been through any love affair,
we should certainly have known it; and
then, again, John wasn't the kind of a
man to fall in love, anyway. He had
been always extremely reserved in So
ciety, invariably preferring companion
ship Of his own sex, much to my dis
comiiture, who had made at least half
a dozen splendid matches for him.
In the midst of my reverie the coach
man appeared, saying, "This is the
house, madam and l found that | had
rolled into quiet, clean street, and
had stopped before a plain two-story
frame house, bearing the number | was
in search Of. A wholesome, motherly-
looking woman opened the door, and
in answer to my call for Mrs. Andrews,
directed me up stairs to the second
story, 'front.' and there | found her.
| wish | could give you even a slight
idea Of the figure that greeted my eye
as entered the room. She was about
medium height, with slender, grace
tul-wonderously gracefill-fgure. /
thought then, and | say now, that she
Was he most beautiful woman | ever
beheld. Such exceedingly symmetry
of face and form is hardly met with
more than once in a lifetime 1t is
no use to attempt description. Her
eyes were dark blue, yelled by long,
sweeping lashes, adding to the look of
patient sadness expressed in every fea-
ture. Shelooked about twenty though
| found afterward that she was some
thing older than this.
"NIrs. Andrews?" said I, interrog-
atively, as she opened the door to my
knock.
Mrs. Andrews" she answered with
smile-a smile so sweet and rare that
| could have caught her in my arms
and kissed her without further parley.
"The dress-maker?" | asked again
coloring to the roots of my hair with
out the least reason in the world.
"A[rs. Andrews, the dress-maker,
she replied, with dignity, the smile
fading from her face. "Can | do any
thing for you?'
In five minutes more | had explained
my business, and waited to see what
she would say.
II have engagements for all this
week. she said, in low, sweet tones,
glancing at her memorandum book
"And then, again, Mrs. Sinclair, | nev.
er 60 out. My work is all brought tc
me here, and when it is finished, my
customers"-here she turned her head,
and looked out of the window for q
second "my customers" this time
more decided " ''send for it."
"You do not mean to say that you
never 90 out Of doors ?" inquired
with shudder Some way the idea Of
this lovely woman forever shut up with
her work In this lonely street was more
than | could bear.
"Ohno," she answered, smiling again
very much to my delight, 81 only mean
that | never go out to work
"llave you any special reasons fol
this q was my next query. "Do you
not find it equally remunerative p.
ooh, it is not that she replied
quickly; "but l have a little baby girl
not quite two years old, whom | find
it impossible to leave"
"But that will make no difference tc
me-" interrupted, warmly. 81 think
| should quite enjoy having your little
one with us. She will be company fol-
my baby and, my dear little woman,
really believe the change would be
good for you both. l think | can safe
" promise not to overwork YOU