Juniata sentinel and Republican. [volume] (Mifflintown, Juniata County, Pa.) 1873-1955, 1875-02-10
No. 81, Dead Letter Office.
BY NJ z. W.

letters she had been twisting and turn
ing for the last five minutes.
"To think" said she, "that tha,
hieroglyphic should stand for John
Smith, this one for Bill Brown, and
that one for Polly Jones. Why do not
people learn to write Education seems
to do no good, for the more sense and
learning they have the worse they write.
Wouldn't Horace Greeley and Jules
Janin have stood nice civilservice ex-
aminations ? Talleyrand said language
WAS given to conceal meaning, and
wonder what he thought of letter.
writing? Qhi dear Only twelve
o'clock, and the regulations say clerks
must be at their desks from nine till
three. Well, I've nearly directed two
hundred letters, days Office work"
She was bright. pretty little thing,
dainty and sparkling as tropical jewel,
with large, dark eyes, rosy cheeks,
CHEEKY lips, and brown. rippling hair
sunny, glowing face that uncon-
sciously recalled the music of the
Beautiful Blue Danube" and figure
light and graceful as forest ferns. True,
she seemed rather out of place in the
somber and business looking gallery,
with its groups of sad, pale faced elderly
women, writing quietly and silently at
their desks, seldom speaking or smiling,
and many of them wearing that look OF
calm despair and hopeless resignation
so often seen in the faces of those vino
have known better days; yet she was
very proud of her clerkship, very CRATE
ful for her salary, and wondered what
she would have done without it.
Her father was gay, dashing officer,
fond of luxury and pleasure but, as
gay, dasbing officers, have a knack OF
doing he died deeply in debt leaving
his wife and child an honored name and
untarnished memory, but no money.
Mrs. Buford, though lovely and accom-
plished, was, ,as most officers wives are,
sadly lacking in business qualities, and
there is no telling what humiliating ex-
periences of privation and dependence,
coldness and neglect. they might have
realizing their needs and her duty, de-
termined, child though she was, to be
independent and to make some effort to
support herself and mother.
Like all nobly born and well-educatei
women suddenly thrown on their own
resources for support, Daisy's first i'm
pulse was to teach, and she applied in
numerous quarters for position as
governess or teacher, but people would
ask with a smile her age, qualifications,
recommendations, etc., and her pretty
face and seventeen years generally
closed the subject.
Some one suggested the Departments,
adding lyon have so many friends ana
such high influence you can easily get
an appointment :" but Daisy, like the
balance of us, found very poor reeds to
lean on in time of need. Her father
had been on intimate terms with most
of the high officials in Washington, but
when she applied to them to recommend
her, the invariable answer was ''Really,
my dear, would be glad to do so, but
you know have no influence"
Men who dined every week with the
President, rode in Government car
riages, and had sons, cousins, and
nephews in every branch of the public
service, would shake their heads gravely
and say, 81 would not dare ask favor
of the Government.
She met one day by chance old
Senator M, whose son, when wounded
at Gettysburg, was taken by Col.
Buford to his camp and kindly nursed
till he died. The old man was not a
great debater or party leader, and
maybe that was why politics had left
him enough heart to remember the
kindness of his boy and be grateful for
1t. Hearing of Daisy's efforts, he said.
leave it to me, little girl, I'll attend
to it ;" and in few days brought her
appointment.
To-day was her second anniversary in
Office, and delighting, girl-hke, in COM
memorating events and making fete
days of every unusual occurrence, she
had, in honor of the occasion, a fresh
bouquet on her desk and beautiful flow
ers in her hair and bodice. Letter after
letter had been directed and filed, when
one, written in a bold manly hand, at
tracted her attention. Probably no
spot on earth has such a dampening in
fuence on female curiosity as the Dead
Letter Office, and after two or three
weeks service a clerk (even though it
is a woman) seldom glances at letter,
never reads one. Some prophetic in
huence, however, something magnetic
in the touch of the one Daisy held in her
hand prompted her to read the follow
ing pages:
"MIss REBECCA: can hardly think
that this letter will be a surprise to
you, for you must have OWNED long
since the feeling that prompts it, and
anticipated the avowal it makes. Again
and again l have sought your presence
to make this declaration, but each
time my trembling lips refused to DO
my hearts bidding, and now in despair
/ trust the message to nay pen. Some
times fear yOu do not love me, or you
would read my thoughts and make II
less difficult for us to understand each
other. Do you love me? Will you be
NV wife? You often banter me about
my castle as you call it, ask if L am
afraid of ghosts there, and wonder what
business l, an old bachelor, have with
fountains, roses, statues, &c. Now let
me tell You that when L planned and
built that house, the hope that some
day it would be your happy home, con-
secrsted cornerstone and roof dream
ing of the time when they would per
fume the air you breathed, l planted
those roses and vines. Even the books
in the library, the pictures on the walls,
the ornaments on the mantel, aye, the
little fancy churn in the dairy-all were
selected with reference to your taste.
Tell me, dear one, that have not hoped
in vain, that all these long years L have
not persued a phantom. L await
patiently your answer but implore you
not to prolong my suspense. Meet me
to morrow evening at the gate, and LEI
me read my fate in your eyes. Respect
fully, oh that had the privilege OF
signing myself loving yours,
The envelope was marked Miss Re
becca.
"Poor fellow" sighed Daisy, reading
it a second time, what a pity it was lost
though it's three months since 1t wa.