Whig and tribune. [volume] (Jackson, Tenn.) 1870-1877, 1876-03-25
MISS CORSELIA's MISTAKE
BY MAEY KYLE DALLAS.

Miss Cornelia Lunt was the only child
of two good people who hal not married
until they reached the years which find
most welded pairs with their children
/ well grown up around them. They had
1 been very happy, however, and when
they died, left their daughter little in
come, which, by close pinching, she
could manage TO live upon.
COruelia was not pretty girl-old
/ peoples children never are; but thou
sands of palmer girls had married and
settled, while she remained a spinster.
| Perhaps the fact that she was by no means
/ Il good-natured person had something to
do with il. Certainly, she quarrelled
/ with he" friends and fell out with her
beaux, had feuds with her relatives, and
! was fond of saying unpleasant things 10
4 people generally, and the other half of
/ her soul was lucky creature in having
missed her in this world.
/ In her youth she had also compOrtetl
/ herself scOrnfully to well disposed young
men who belonged to the mechanic elias
ses, and had declared that she would only
/ give her hand and heart to 4 merchant, u
! physician, or clergyman. Merchants
were rare in BOttlehOle, the only speci-
mems of that order being two very old
bachelors. still connected with New
York firm, who were always 10 be seen
aSleS u on either side of their wide hall
door In pleasant summer weather, and
who only awOke at the instance of their
hOusekeeper long enough to take their
meals. The two doctors We're both mar
ried and the clergymen always had large
families. Miss Cornelia's ambiciOus
hopes were never realized, and her ia
theirs apprentice, Tim Cornell, who had
admired her, and had been quite a be-
lever in her as Il very elegant and gen
teel person" finally pronounced her
mighty proud and naughty" and aban-
toned his suit. The young mechanics
married or left the village, and Miss Cor
nelia at last awOke to the knOwlede that
she was getting on ia life, and that il
she was not careful people would find 1t
out.
Cornclia looked in the glass carefully
every morning, and very often through
the day. She did not age rapidly, hav-
ing always looked as old as il was pOSsi-
BILE to look. But for that dreadful family
Bible in which the record of her birth
was written down, she would have felt
safe in slicing OF ten years of her life,
proceeding which she fancied would in
crease her value in the eyes of a certain
Mr.. Dumsday, who had recently paid her
4 few solemn calls. He was really an
old man himself, but the older a man the
younger, generally, one finds his choice
of wife to he. And really, when all
as adding to ones age, why shOnld not
their efforts be thwartcd by reduction
Oh ones own part OF the one thing no
body ever wants more of:
Poor Miss COrnelia! She did not know
that one who never thinks about age at
all is the slOwest To grow old. She eyed
that Well-thumbed Bible which her COM
/ pauion and assistant, Cousin Betsy Ba-
/ ker, always would have upon stand in
/ the parlor, with absolute horror. She
/ did not dare object to its presence. She
/ was church member and thought her
self pious; but she did wish Cousin Betsy
/ in Greenland, when she called visitor :
/ attention TO the illustrations il contained.
/ Suppose any one should turn to the ily-
/ Leaf and read there: Born Dee, Is,
/ COrne!ia, first daughter of Mathew and
Abigail Luut. The thought was hor
ror.
She sat over the CRATE lire late one
night, thinking over the matter.
Who knows her exact agel Cousin
| Betsy. But Cousin Betsy would not
| wish To quarrel with her, and she Was
| too old woman to think her anything
| but young. The clergyman who baptiScd
her. But he was sIperanuated and lived
/ with his son -in-law in another State.
| The family doctor was dead, and the dear
+ old gentleman who had board a With
them from her baby-hoOd, who had al
I ways given her gut upon her birthday 4,
and on whom she had waitsd as a grand
child might, went 10 Europe years he
fore, and was probably dead. Goo old
man, She had liked him very much.
How well she remembered him rs lac Set
in his big aam-chair, lie had white
/ hair, and Tat hands with dinplc' in them,
and carried thick, gold-hcaded cane.
/ Good Ar. Nojre, But she should never
hear anything Of him again. Yes, IL
/ was safe. She would 30 H.. She did not
{ dare to name the deed-ir seemed ~ bad
[ 10 her ~ robbug a church. But ten
years Oh ones age i u terrible tcmpta-
I iion--at least it WAS 10 Miss CorneIia.
/ II was night-half-paSt twelve, at least
the hour when ''churchyardS yawn
! and graves give up thcir dead. Ghosts
[ might pop la upon her 40 auy moment,
I but such u deed could only be done at
such an hour. Miss C"rnCliI arose. She
stood before the fire with heg back to-
ward il, and took tle candlestick in her
hand. The room WAS clean alHt orderly.
The green shades were down. The
chairs stood IN row against the walls.
The little marblc-'op Iahi" held its wax
W"lpr-lilv under % gls~S shade. I'hOtO-
graphs OF the good Old parents, with more
cord lhgn frame. and more frame than
picture, hung Ia the rece>sr> on either
of the mauIei. sine did lot dare 70 glance
toward them. Two guilt vases aud A
inatch-safe adorned The mantcl. Two
feather fans stool behind the vases. In
the middle OF the room were Cousin Bet
Sv's ro.king-chair, q candle-stand, and
the big Bible, white tidy beneath II, a