Connecticut western news., 1874-03-27
DEATH OR MARRIAGE,

DEATH OR MARRIAGE.
 The ancient clock in Deacon Shermer's old-fashioned kitchen was slowly chim- ing the hour of nine. It was no smart toy, no trife of bronze or alabaster, but tall, square, solid relic of the last century, looking not unlike 8 coffin case set on end, in the corner-a clock that had lasted through four genera tions, and, judging from appearances, was quite likely to last through several more. Deacon Shermer cherished the old heirloom with sort of pride which he himself would have scarcely con- tessed to.
 There was great, ruddy fire of chest nut logs in the red brick fire place and the candles in the brightly polished brass sticks were winking merrily from the high wooded mantel, where they shared the post of honor with curious sea-shell and a couple of vases, each containing fresh osage orange, from the hedge that skirted the clover-feld 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 autumnal night, and on the cozy rug of parti- colored rags fat tortoise shell cat pur- red away the slowly lapsing minutes. But the tortoise shell cat was not the only inhabitant of the farmhouse kitchen.
 Timothyp said Mary Shermer, de- oidedly, eff you don't behave yourself, I'll"
 What she would do, Mary did not say the sentence was terminated by 8 laugh that set the dimples around her mouth in motion, just as beam of June sunshine plays across cluster of ! red ripe cherries.
 Mary Shermer was just seventeenth plump, rosy girl, with jet black hair, brushed back from a low forehead, and perfectly arched eyebrows, that gave a bewitching expression of surprise to a pair of melting hazel eyes. She was rather dark; but the severest critic would not have found fault with the peach-like bloom upon her cheeks, and the dewy red of her full, daintily- curved lips. Evidently MT. Timothy Marshall was quite satisfied with Mary's peculiar style of beauty.
 "Come, Mary P said Tim, moving his chair where he could best watch the flush of the freight upon her face, and picking up the thread of the con- versation where he had dropped it, when it became necessary for Mary to bid him "behave himself might promise. It's nine o'clock and your father will soon be home."
 "Promise what, Tim ?" said Mary, demurely, fitting square of red in her patchwork, and intently observing the effect.
 Nonsense, Maryl You know what very we'll. Promise to marry me before Christmas tell you what, Mary, it's all very we'll for you to keep putting a fellow of, but can't stand it. What with your fathers forbidding me the house, and that romantic Tom Stan ley's coming here every Sunday night
 Mary gave her pretty. head toss. "As if MT. Stanley's coming here made any difference in my feelings, Tim I"
 "No; but, Mary, it isn't pleasant, you know. I'm as good man as Tom Stanley, if don't own railroad shares and keep an account at the Hamilton vile 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 right to interfere between us. Come-promise me l" He held both her hands in his, and looked earnestly into the liquid hazel eyes.
 "Do you love me, Mary ?"
 "You know love you, Tim"
 "Then we may just as we'll Hush, what's that p
 "There was a portentous sound of drawing bolts, and rattling latches, in the porch-room beyond-a scraping of heavy boots along the floor. Mary rose to her feet with sudden scarlet-sufusing brow and cheeks.
 "Oh, Tim, it's father l"
 Suppose it is ?"
 "But he mustn't find you here, Tim Hide yourself somewhere, do l"
 What nonsense, Mary p said the young man, resolutely standing his ground. |" I haven't come to steal his spoons. Why should I creape away like 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 bedroom not through that window; it is nailed down tight. He is coming !--he s com- ing Here, Tim, quick p
 And In the drawing of breath, she had pushed Timothy Marshall into the square pendulum case of the tall old clock, and turned the key upon him. It is not pleasant place of refuge, in- asmuch as his shoulders were squeezed on either side, and his head aattened against springs and wheels above, and the air was unpleasantly close but Tim made the best of matters, and shook with suppressed laughter in his solitary prison cell.
 "Well jolly scrape to be in, thought Tim, "and no knowing wher I'll be out of it. Mary's shrewd little puss, however, and I can't do better than to leave matters in her hands,"
 "So you haven't gone to bed yet Mary ?" said Deacon Shermer, slowl. unwindinR the two yards of wooleI