The Manitowoc tribune. [volume] (Manitowoc, Wis.) 1866-1878, 1876-06-08
AT A COUNTRY INN

he can be accommodated with bed and
sitting room.
ga bed, sir p replied MIR. Hunter, a
big man with red face and gray hair,
"yes, / think we can manage to give you
a bed"
''And sitting-room 2" continued the
stranger.
ga sitting-room |" echoed the land
lord, in the tone of one who is consider
ing some great undertaking zone min
ute, if you please, sir y and Mr.. Hunter
disappeared into little room immedi-
ately adjoining the bar, there to hold
counsel with some second person, the
upshot being that in few minutes Mrs.
Hunter, Miss Hunter, and few Hunt
ers just out of the crawling state, issued
forth, bearing respectively working ma
terials, socks in process of being mend
ed, tin whistles and decapitated dolls.
"You can have this room all to your
self, sir, I" said Mr.. Hunter, triumphantly.
"You really must not let me disturb
you," rejoined the traveller.
"Don't you mention it" replied the
landlord, in tone which was at once
genial and confidential. eve would
not turn customer away from our
doors. You see we do not have much
parlor company.
''And this is the only room you have
disengaged9" 2"
swell, yes, sir this is the only room
at present. Susan, make a fire for the
gentleman"
The traveller having as he thought
shown due amount of consideration
for the comfort of Mrs. Hunter and the
young Hunters, was glad enough to en-
ter the apartment before alluded to and
to draw close to the fire the one dilapi-
dated arm chair.
Arthur Seton, lawyer by profession
and literary by choice, was not really
more than 80, though he looked consid-
erably older; for the dark hair and beard
were streaked with gray and the face,
with its regular, handsome features, wore
habitually look of such intense mental
weariness as would have saddened the
most hopeful man had he looked on it
for long.
For some time he leant indolently
back, his hands clasped behind his head;
at length ne rose and took from his bag
a locked-up diary. which he opened, and
ayailing himself of pens and ink which
stood upon the table, made the follow
ing entry:
Oct. II, 1sT4.-Got up late. Called on the Bri-
anstOnes George was out. Had a pleasant
chat with Annie; went like fool, to G,
and, like fool, haunted the O. House. 1t
but heard children play ing in the garden. The
house is let, believe. to city people. Came
back to c.. dined with the Frazers; went to
the club. Got back home late. Wrote col
never know a moments forgetfulnesss ''
He then drew from the leaves of the
diary letter written in delicate femi-
nine hand and addressed 'tArthur Seton
Esq" This letter he regarded with a
long, sad, loving look then, resting his
head on his hand, he read it through
very slowly. It ran as follows:
cous, so jealous and so exacting, can not see
ho.y we are ever to be happy. Faith without
words is dead, and love without faith is no
blessing, but weary burden. l am tired OF
cross words and dark looks. Some women,
believe, like the feveriSh excitement OF quar-
rels, but only wish for peace This miserable.
petty Jealousy Is quite unworthy of you. Do
try and put it from you; and remember that
love, once wounded, is sometimes hurt past
safely, but cannot speak about it now. You
have made me too sad, too weary, and even a
little indignant Yours affectionately,
ALICE CLARIFIED.
He replaced the letter, closed the di-
airy, took up his pipe, and began smok-
ing. The early part of this day had
been fine and mild, but toward the af-
ternoon the sky grew all at once leaden
and the wind shifted to the northeast
now the wind was rising and the rain
was falling-a cold, penetrating, impet-
uous, determined rain. The country,
which but brief while since had look
ed so fair in bland October sunlight,
now seemed q thing to shudder at. The
dun -colored woods, wet and forlorn,
seemed to have no iora of any returning
summer and to know the utter desola-
ton of the end. It was impossible, in
deed, to imagine that in the green, soak
ing fields, where now a few cows were
together and believing discon-
solately, glad children could ever have
tossed each other in the warm, sweet
smelling hay ; the rain drove drearily
against the window, and the wind shrek
ed round the house and occasionally
thundered in the chimney; and the wag-
ons numbered by or drew up in front of
the door, and while the drivers availed
themselves of the tavern's hospitality,
the large, broad backed horses beat the,
miry roads with heavy hoofs. There
was not much to occupy mans thoughts
in the dreary little rarlor. A great vari-
ETY. of whips hung against the wall, and
over the mantei-piece was photograph
of fine chestnut mare. Under it was
written, .Being Mr.. Hunters favorite
mare, who died in her fourteenth year"
A short way on was a photograph of
Mrs. Hunter in full holiday costume. A
large Bible and photograph album lay
upon the table.
Seton mechanically opened the album.
Here WIS tinted photograph of a young
girl with profuse gold ringlets, large,
round face, and meaningless blue eyes.
Under it was written, Presented to
ssHunter by her affectionate friend,
Isabella Grant" Poor Isabella How
many honest country hearts, I wonder,
had she caused to ache while the hair