Oxford Democrat. [volume] (Paris, Me.) 1833-1933, 1876-08-01

S0a lage, an III cum Oack an sun
say he's been seed bodily round Bowles's
Mill moonlight nights. But YOU needn't
be scared, miss. The book is nat'ral
harmless. An if you say so, I'll git it fur
you this mint, an when you're through
readin' ont. I'll put it back"
Up 10 the rafters be climbed nimbly by
certain foot-holds not very visible, and
brought down. with a flying leap that
startled Miss Thatcher to her feet in nerv-
Gus apprehension for his safety. dusty
volume. which he CALAMITY wiped upon
his coat sleeve and offered.
An autobiography, not 50 very old, for
It's closing date was lS47. Four hundred
pages Of yellow letter-paper stitched to-
gether by The dozen sheets, and finally
bound in wrap of black leather. Writ
ten IN fine, pointed hand, difficult to
read at first. but once mastered IN its
idiosyncrasies, legiole at ease. And hav-
in. this peculiIrily: on almost every
page. mixed in with the text, were maps
carefully drawn and dotted. inclosed in
neatly ruled paraGelograms, but without
any dgures or marginal references to
show connection with the writing.
II am ouc oftwo brothers." the nsrra-
tive commenced, "in all points as unlike.
from the moment of birth, as Jacob and
Esau."
Then followed, interspcrsed with the
iucompreben i5le maps, briel history
Of an uohappy childhood, unloyed as
childhood could be, an adolescence utterly
Eu5.yssed and dissatisfied; and alter q
page ol atheislical TRADE against the in
,quali'y OF fortune and the bitter tyranny
OF fate. the personal history developed
no a descriptive diary of travels and
business connections in South America,
whittier the wri:er had immigra,ed in his
t~enty-,i1,h b year.
So lar, and a lil.ie farther. the manu-
script bore marks OF having been read:
pages were dog-aared, and there was an
occasional thumb print. But the style
was so dull and molotonous. and the de-
,lll so lacking in adventure. that not one
OF 1.-THE visitors at Red Cedar Pond" had
been inspired with sufficient curiosity to
read the volume to its close.
Not one-excep,ing Miss Thatcher.
Sue read every page carefully, even with
ayidity.
Oae Saturday morning-a beautiful
sunny morning, for rainy DAYS could no
longer be waited for. the interest of The
diary bad become 50 absorbing-Miss
Thatcher was early in her favori'e place
at the Old milI, when Tim, with sur
pri,iogly long face. Accos,cd her in .
startling whisper:
The manuscripts Tin called fur"
Miss Thatcher turned quite pale. "ls
i. gone ?" she asked, family.
NO. miss. not gone" said Tim, gadi-
artly, well satisfied with ''thc start" he
had given her; mo, tux away when goH
wus @ roadin' ont. Catch me! Says /,
Sir. Won must bEiug written order 50
ae went up The bill to the old deacon's-
that wus Yesterday. He'll be here fur
certain today. But you've got the man
scrip. miss, to look at once agin, anyhow.
Catch me s-giyin' ont up till | had ter"
Tim. YOU are very good, kind TEL
low, said Miss Thatcher.
She took the manuscript, and it was
then that. before she had read = word she
wrote in fine pencil mark upon the mar
ON ot one of the sailow pages-a page
She turned over leaf alter Leaf especially
to lind
NO one to love, none 10 caress.'
Hardly had she written this when The
sound OF crutch was heard on the mill
bridge, and voices. and in another mo
meul the sunny doorway OF the mill was
darkened by two figures.
There was no escape for Louisa. She
arose from her love ol corner, with the
manuscript in her hands.
Il am sure you have come iHr this
she said TO the old deacon. Then she
I t--.--l l.,
/ lie could certainly bear no relation TO
1.-The curusest spesmin oil human crelur
described by Tim as the author OF the
diary. She caught the impression, in bel
rapid glance, of a scholarly looking
young man. with pale forehead and
dark mustache, who wore eyeglasses.
~ believe am the owner oil the RECORD
LETT here so many years ago." the Young
man explained. "But have no reason
10 carry it away at this moment. l shall
be in the village over the Sabbath, per
haps through the week. Ityou have 10
iaishod reading it. | shall leave Ihe koo'
with you gladly
"Oh no, said Miss Thatcher, quickly
100 quickly she altetward thought; ou
embarrassment, or perhaps fate, urge'
her 10 decline the strangers politeness
She was going, and US she went :;
uncomfortable impulse caused her to turi
back. and sag. at you are kindred to th
man who wrote tho book, twill make yo'
very sad. l hope-I hope you will ies
little love for him"
Al caurch on Sunday the Claimant G
D,:.I ,,anrscriut aDuearat