The anti-monopolist. [volume] (Saint Paul, Minn.) 1874-1878, 1874-12-31

Drether. Guy had been mutterlng some
very bad sentiments, which would nave
erieved me more if l had not attributed
| hem in part to some unrlpe peaches
and the state of his stomach.
I "Guy." said I, suddenly. 81 We found
kew to much that makes people gasp
and stare at you. =,
! s.What do you mean Z! returned he'
rather roughly.
GHOST persons, went on ,are nan
angel, half-devil, they say. But your
angel and devil seem to share their
lod gine on the most curious terms OF
mutual forbearancc. They seem to
take YOU turn and turn about, in
watches. as it were. Your angel never
torments your devil, or interferes with
his mode of enjoying himself, his Wal
nurgis nights with his man; and your
devil, with equal politeness. never in
trudes himself on the angelical PRAYER
meetings. They could not possibly
come in contact without disturbing the
harmony of the system; but they seem
to agree to differ, like certain polite
married couples
Urouehart took his pipe from his
! mouth, and blew out long smoke
wreath. Then he leaned head and
shoulders out of the window. and
stared far away at the sun. now like
cot of blood on the livid horizon. till
eYen that crimson speck was absorbed.
Then he brought himself back to his
former position in corner of the rick.
etv old sofa, and from that dusky cor
ner spake.
.sYou hooked fine fat fish there,
ny young friend, with your moral-crit-
| ical line. Your sagacity really deserves
p.tting for having snapped up such a
good head of game. Still. you don't
/ know how the devil got into me how
should you! He had hardly set claw
| on your friend when we were boys to-
gether, and rather the better boy of
the two.
"You may well say that, old fellow !
! At that time land what little time
ago it is, after all y you really seemed
incapable of evil, or even of compre-
hending it. You trusted every body
implicitly, because you yourself were
IAN ASST roared Urquehart. "And
now listen
So, as the night fell, and "the case
ment slowly grew glimmering square
in the blackness, Urquehart's tale was
| told.
Fourteen months ago was lodging
for the summer in a farm house in a
village, no matter where. The only
house there belonging to gentlefolks,
! except the wretehed cid parsonage, was
SQUIRE Ringwood's. 1t was big, stu
! pid-looking mansion, on a hill, staring;
down over besringly at the poor little
tenements huddled together below,
and the burly Squire himself was for
all the world like his house, as he sat on
his tall horse and looked down POM
pously over his vast waistcoat at a
frightened crew of village children.
The Squire had an ugly, sickly wife
and daughter, and they had an humble
companion that was an angel Of beauty.
fell in love with her at church. Oh.
the little church in the west countrie
hid in the bovery orchard hollow Oh.
the sudden delicious gust that Uttered
the graves with blossoms Your
mothers grave, Charley; has the dear
woman the violets planted theref or
did they die like the faith and nope
she set in me fell in love with
Fanny Vale before | knew her name
learned that from the farmhouse
folks with whom | lodged. They told
me, moreover, that she was young
widow, and still in weeds when she
came to lodge very humbly in the vii
lage six months before; that the
Squire's wife and daughter had taken
a fancy to her, and had adopted her
into their family as a kind of reader
and useful companion Of all work.
made her acquaintance by note which
threw at her feet over a hedge the
first time | spied her walking alone
need not swear to you that |
never had an evil wish or thought
about her. To me woman was holy
thing. desecrated by ne lowness Of con-
diticn, deserving Of any gentleman s
love and reverence. If endowed with
certain qualities. These qualities now
took on trust. and. being enchanted bv
her beauty. saw also the perfection of
moral loneliness IN her face. Such an
angelic face. Charley! There she sat
in the Squire's pew, beside her ugly
patronesses. with such intelligence in
her melancholy blue eye ami fair half
moon Of brow, such breathing sensi-
bility in her silence; and when came to
know her. what sympathy in her
smile, what silken manners. so soft, so
graceful, caressing. yet modest and full
Of snaye dignity She did not answer
my note but when went to the copse
behind Ringwood house. where | had |
implored her to meet me, sha was there.
She came, she said. only to beg me to |
come and write no more. She was a |
poor dependent. and the least suspicion /
falling on her would cast her homeless /
and friendless on the world will not |
dwell On this stale love story !; it was
perfectly commonplace Of its kind, ex- |
cept that the dIpe was not for once
the humble beauty, but the gentleman
from London. She consented to be my
wife; and at the summers end, without
asking her a single question as to
her past, without knowing
more of it than the farm folks
had volunteered to tell me the first
day | saw her. | brought this girl to
London. and married her. That's what
came Of being too good for this world. /
Of evil. or the COMPREHENSION