The Van Buren press., 1874-05-05
MISCELLANY.
Death or Marriage.


ing the hour Of nine. 1t was no smart
toy, no trfe of bronze or alabaster, but
a tall, square, solid relic of the last centu
ry, looking not unlike coffin case set
on end, in the corner--a clock that had
lasted through four generations, and,
Judging from appearances, was quite
likely to last through several more.
Deacon Shermer cherished the old heir
loom with sort of pride which he him
self would have scarcely confessed to
There was great, ruddy fire of chest
nut longs in the red brick fire place; and
the candles in the brightly polished brass
sticks we're winking merriiy from the
high wooden mantel, where they shared
the post of honor with curious sea shell
and couple of vases, each containing a
fresh osage orange, from the hedge that
skirted the clover.f field behind the barn
At the window, a curtain OF gaudy chintz
shut out the tens of thousands OF stars
that were shining brightly on that au'
tumnal night, and on the coy rug OF
part, colored rags fat tortoise shell cat
purred away the slowly lapsing minutes.
But the tortoise shell cat was not the
only inhabitant of the farm house kitchen
"Tlmothy!" said Mary Shermer, de-
cidcdly, IF you don't behave YOURSELF
Fll----'
What she would do, Mary did not say ;
the sentence was terminated by laugh
that set the dimples around her mouth
in motion, just as a beam of June sun.
shine plays across cluster of red ripe
cherries.
Mary Shermer was just seventeen--a
plump, rosy girl, with Jet black hair
brushed back from low forehead. and
perfectly arched eyebrows, that gave a
bewitching expression of surprise to a
palr of melting hazel eyes She was
rather dark; but the severcst critic would
not have found fault with the peach like
bloom upon her checks, and the dewy
red of her full, daintIy-curvcd lips. Evi
deutlv Mr.. Timothy Marshall was quite
satisfied with Mary's peculiar style Of
beauty.
Come, Maryl said Tim, moving his
chair where he could best watch the flush
of the firelg ght upon her face, and pick
ing up the thread Of the conversation
where he had dropped it, when it became
necessary for Mary to bid him d" behave
himself f"-"you might promise. It's
nine o'clock and your father will soon be
home.
Promise what, Tim p said Mary, de
murely, fitting square of red in her
patchwork, and intcntly observing the
effect.
"Nonsense, Mary You know what
very well Promise to marry me before
Christmas! / tell you what, Mary, it's
all very well for You to keep putting II
fellow Off, hut l can't stand it. What
with your fathers forhiddng me the
house, and that romantic Tom Stanley's s
coming here every Saturday night"
Mary gave her pretty head a toss, LAS
if Mr.. S;anley's coming here made any
difference in my feelings, Tim !"
mo but Mary, it isn't pleasant, you
know. I'm as good man as Tom Stan.
ley if don't own railroad shares and
keep an account at the Hamiltonville
Bank and ! love you, Mary, from the
very bottom Of my heart! Now this
matter lies between you and me only no
other person in the world has a right to
Mssrfere between us. Come--promise
me" He he'd both her hands in his,
and looked earnestly into the liquid hazel
eyes.
"Do you love me. Mary2'
"You know love you, Tim"
"Then we may just as WE'LL Hush,
what's that I"
There was a portentous sound OF
drawing bolts, and rafting latches, in
the porch-room beyond, and scraping Of
heavy boots along the floor. Mary rose
to her feet with sudden scarlet suTused
brow and cheeks.
"Oh, Tim, it's father"
"Suppose it is p
"But he musnt find you here. Tim
Hide yourself some where, dow
"What nonsense, Mary" said the
young man, resolutely standing his
ground II haven't come to steal his
spoons Why should l creep away like
a detected burglar?'
For my sake, Tim Oh, Tim, if you
ever loved me, do as say! Not in that
closet; it is close to his bed room; +; not
through that window it is nailed down
tight. He is coming he's coming !
Here, Tim, quick
And in the drawing of a breath, she
had pushed Timothy Marshall into the
square pendulum case of the tall old
clock and turned the key upon him 1t
was not pleasant place Of refuge, mas
much as his shoulders were squeezed on
either side, and bis head fattened against
springs and wheels above, and the air
was unplcasant,y close; but Tim made
the best of matters, and shook with sup
pressed laughter in his solitary prison
cell
well jolly scrape to be in, :"
thought Tim, "and no knowing when
! III be out of it. Mary's shrewd little
puss, however, and | can't do better
than to leave matters in her hands. -
$50 you haven't gone to bed yet,
Maryr' said Deacon Shermer, slowly
unwinding the two yards of woolen scarf
with which he generally encased his
throat Of an evening.
mot yet, father, said Mary, picking
up the scattered bits of patch work with
glowing cheek. "Dld you have u
meetingt"
"Well, yes" quoih the deacon, re-
nec,ively, sitting down before the fire,
ura,tlv IN MarV's constprnation-,hp