Port Royal standard and commercial. [volume] (Beaufort, S.C.) 1874-1876, 1876-07-27

| by certain fOOtnOldS nOb very 'lslple,
and brought down, with a flying leap
that startled Miss Thatcher to her feet
in nervous apprehension for his safety,
dusty volume, which he gallantly
wiped upon his coat sleeve and offered.
An autobiography, not SO very old,
for its closing date was 1S47. -Four hun
dred pages of yellow letter paper
stitched together by the dozen sheets,
and finally bound in wrap OF black
leather. Written in a fine, pointed
hand, difficult to read at first, but once
mastered in its idiosynorasies, legible at
case. And having this peculiarly !: on
almost every page, mixed In the text.
were maps carefully drawn and dotted,
inclosed in neatly ruled parallelograms,
but without any figures or marginal
references to show connection with the
writing.
81 ara one of two brothers," the nara
tive commenced, "in all points as un-
like, from the moment of birth, as Jacob
and Essu."
Then followed, interspersed with the
incomprehensible maps, a brief history
of an unhappy childhood, unloved as
childhood could be, an adolescence
utterly unblessed and dissatisfied and
after page of atheistical TRADE against
the inequality of fortune and the bitter
tyranny of fate, the personal history de-
veloped into a descriptive diary of
travels and business connections IN
South America, whittier the writer had
immigrated in his twenty sixth year.
So far, and little further, the manu-
script bore marks of having been read
pages were dog-eared, and there was an
occasional thumb print. But the style
was so dull and monotonous, and the
detail 60 lacking in adventure, that not
one of "the visitors at Red Cedar pond"
had been inspired with sufficient curios-
ity to read the volume to its close.
Not one-except Miss Thatcher. She
read every page carefully, even with
avidity.
One Saturday morning-a beautiful
sunny morning, for rainy days could no
longer be waited for, the interest OF the
diary had become go absorbing
Thatcher was early in her favorite place
at the old mill, when Tim, with a sur
prisingly long face, accosted her In
startling whisper:
"The manuscripts bin called fur"
Miss Thatcher turned quite pale. els
it genei" she asked, family.
"No, miss, not gone," said Tim, ra-
diautly, well satisfied with "the start "
he had given her "not TUX away when
you was a-readin' ont. Catch me! Says
+: Sir, you must bring a written or.
der So he 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 mannscrip, miss, to look at once
agin, anyhow. Catch me a-givin' ont
up till I had ter"
+" Tim, you are very good, kind TEL
low" said Miss Thatcher.
She took the manuscript, and it was
then that, before she read a word, she
wrote in fine pencil mark upon the margin
of one of the sallow pages-a page she
turned over leaf after leaf especially to
find:
"No one to love, none to caress."
Hardly had 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 corner, with the
manuscript in her hands.
81 am sure you have come for this, |"
she said to the old deacon. Then she
glanced at his companion. She caught
the impression in her rapid glance of o
scholarly looking young man, with pale
forehead and dark mustache, who wore
eyeglasses.
"I believe I am the owner of the
record left here so many years ago, the
young man explained. "But have no
reason to carry it away at this moment.
I shall be in the village over the Sab
bath, perhaps through the week. If
you have not finished reading it, I shall
leave the book with you gladly"
"Oh, no." said Miss Thatcher, quickly
too quickly she afterward thought;
but embarrassment, or perhaps fate,
urged her to decline the strangers
politeness.
She was going, and as she went an un-
controllable impulse caused her to turn
back and say: elf You are kindred TO
the man who wrote the book, twill make
you very sad. I hope-I hope you will
feel little love for him"
+ =
At church on Sunday the claimant of
the BeFles' 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 highroad to the schoolhouse,
she met him, and he evidently expected
a recognition; but intent upon the neces-
sity of absolute dignity in "district
school-na'a a'am," she vouchsafed him
none.
"She blushed, though" the young
man reflected, consolingly. That even
ing he called at Mr.. Seaman's with one
of the village dignitaries, but the desire
of his eyes was cup stairs correcting
COM ositions," and he did not gain a
gil lpse of her.
At noon the next day the mother OF
flaxen- haired Nettie, pet of the baby
class. came with Nettie's luncheon, ac-
companied by the indefatigable 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 highroad and
the pretty wood path that closed it, and
giving each other gradually, with all the