The Wheeling daily register. [volume] (Wheeling, W. Va.) 1864-1878, 1876-07-22
the writer had immigra.ed In hi. twenty.

sixth year.
So far. and little farther, the manu-
script bore marks of having been read:
pages were dog-eared, and there was an
occasional thumb print. But the style
was 80 dull and mon otoAous and the de-
tail 30 lacking in adventure, that not one
of "the visitors at Red Cedar POND mad
been inspired with sufficient curiosity "
read the volume to its close.
Not one-excepting Miss Thatcher.
She read every page carefully, even with
vidity.
One Saturday morning. beautiful
sunny morning, for rainy days could no
longer be waited tor, the interest OF the
dairy had become 30 absorbing-Miss
Thatcher was early in her favorite place
at the old mill, when Tim, with sur
prisingly long face. accosted her in
startling Whisper:
"The manuscripts bin called fur"
Miss Thatcher turned quite pale. "ls
it gone| she asked, family.
"No, miss, not gone" said Tim, radi.
antly, we'll satisfied with "the start" he
had given her; "not tux away when you
wus a-readin' out. Catch me! Says 1,
Sir, Won must bring q written order
So be went up the hill to the old deacon's
that wus Yesterday. He'll be here fur
certain to-day. But you've got the man
scrip, miss, to look at once agin, anyhow.
Catch me givin ont up till had tel"
"Tim, you are very good, kind fel.
low" said Miss Thatcher.
She took the manuscript and it was
then that, before she had read q word,
she wrote in fine pencil mark upon the
margin of one of the sallow pages-a
page she turned over leaf after leaf es-
pecially to find
No one to love, none to caress".
Hardly bad she written this when the
sound of crutch was heard on the mill
bridge, and voices, and in another mo-
ment the sunny doorway of the mill was
darkened by two figures.
There was no escape for Louisa. She
arose from her love of a corner, with the
manuscript in her hands.
IL am sure you have come for this"
she said to the old deacon. Then she
glanced at his companion.
He could certainly bear no relation to
'the curusest spesmin of a human cretur"
described by Tim as the author of the
diary. She caught the impression, in her
rapid glance, of scholarly looking young
man, with a pale forehead and dark
mustache, who wore eyeglasses.
81 believe / am the owner of the re-
cord left here SO many years ago." the
young man explained. "But l have no
reason to carry it away at this mement.
shall be IN the village over the Sabbath,
perhaps through the week. If you have
not finished reading it, l shall leave the
book with you gladly"
"Oh, no." said Miss Thatcher, quickly
too quickly she sfterward thought; but
embsrrass ment, or perhaps fate, urged her
TO decline the strangers politeness.
She was going, and as she went an un-
comfortable impule caused her to turn
back, and say, IF you are kindred to
the man who wrote the book, twill make
you very sad. / hope-I hope you will
feel little love for him."
At church on Sunday the claimant OF
the Bowles' Mill manuscript appeared in
a conspicuous pew, and Louisa Thatcher
felt, even when he was not looking at her,
that his thoughts were studying her
through and through.
On Monday morning, as she trudged
along the high-rosd to the school house,
she met him, and he levidently expected
, a recognition; but intent upon the neces
sity of absolute dignity in "a district
school. ma'am," she vouchsated him none.
"She blushed, though" the young man
reflected, consolingly. That evening he
called at Mr.. Seamsn's with one Of the
village dignitaries, but the desire OF his
eyes WAS ''up stairs correcting compost
tions," and he did not gain glimpse OF
her.
At noon the next day the mother of
haxcn haired Nettie, pet Of the baby c.ass,
came with Netties luncheon, accom-
panied BY the interchangeable young man,
who was then formally presented to Miss
Thatcher.
From that time they met daily on the
way to school and the way from school,
walking slowly along the high road and
the pretty wood path with all the trust
full facility OF youth and Irresistible at.
traction, the confidential histories of
their young lfetimes. At evening he
came to see her,
And then, what happened? All at
once the dismal interior of the old house
where Louisa boarded became as rosily
TRANSPORTED as its exterior had been by
the glory OF the western heavens the
hour of Miss Thatcher's arrival. In a
more magical couleur de rose, the funeral
parlor blushed into boudoir; the low
Widowed bedroom bossomed into
beauty, not only with all the buds and
branches brought irto it as mementoes
of darling walks and drives, but with
the subtle eaorescent unfolding of love
dreams.
One evening the young couple were
sitting in Mr.. Seaman's parlor by the
dim lamp dignited by the mercenary
genius of Mrs. Seaman into can extra,
looking together over the mill manu-
script.
81 find it so dull" said Leonard Mans
field, "Were it not for one consideration
and one conviction lshould never be able
10 finish. The consideration is tor your
i sake, DcCduSe INpu iihO ~ A<oeAoni WV
conviction was the foundation Of my
coming 10 claim the record. When my
uncle's viii was read, seven years ago,
one clause struck my imagination:
"lf any OF my heirs feel sufficiently
interested IN me to inquire into my per.
sonal history they will find my diary in
the old mill, where it was written, q.
Red Cedar Pond, twelve miles from
u, j county, Conn. Personal
application TO be made to Deacon Treat
or Squire Wells The heirs noted this
direction with indifference"
"My share of the legacies took me
through college-as my father, one oI
the dearest and noblest Of men, but never
fortunate in money-making, could not
atford-and furnished me with small
capital to commence law practice. had
more than compunctious thought about
my beneiactor. 1t seemed to me ashsme
10 accept such benefits from q man in
whom | had not sufficient interest to &C
onain. myself with his personal history