The Eaton Democrat. (Eaton, Ohio) 1875-1903, 1878-04-04
VOL. XI--NO. 10.

burnt face and brown arms and hands,
felt my heart beating fast, and knew
he was not coming to see father, but to
see me.
We had hardly ever spoken, but l had
known John Grove for years now, and
we had nodded and waved hands to one
another often and often as we had passed
up and down the river.
F aHeaye us a rope, my lass" he said,
as he came close in; and I did it
dreamily, and as soon as / had done so
I began to pull it back, but it was too
late; he had hitched it round the thwart
of his boat, and was up and over the side
before / could stir; and then he stood
locking down upon me, while l felt some
times hot and sometimes cold, and as if
could not speak.
e Do you want to see father 2" I said,
at last.
& "No, my lass" he said, quietly, 81
want to see you."
"Mep ] faItered, with my face burn
Yes, you, my lass" he said; and his
handsome brown face Lit up, and he
looked 80 manly as he laid his hand on
my arm.
Prudence, my gal," he said, we're
both young yet, for I'm not six-and-
twenty, but I thought it was time l spoke
/" Spoke to meY' / said, with my face
burning still.
I" ""Yes, my lass, spoke to you, for
we've. been courting now matter of
four years."
90, JohnI'' 1 cried, bursting out
laughing, and feeling more at my ease,
"why, we've never hardly spoken to one
another"
t" That's nice," he said, drawing long
breath. "Over again"
cover again? What?" l said.
3 "Call me john" he replied.
Well, then, john" I cried, hastily.
!" That's right, Prudence; but, as 1 was
going to- say, not spoken to one anotherl
Well, how could we, always taking our
turns at the tilIer as we were? But all
the same, my lass, I've been always
courting of you, night and day, these
four years, and looking out and longing
for the time when the Prudence would
come in sight, and / could give you a
hail and get wave of the hand back. !"
/ could feel the color coming into my
cheeks again as I heard him speak, and
knew how anxiously / had looked out
for his barge coming up or down the
river; and then / began wondering what
it all meant, and soon knew.
Prudence, my LASS" he said, I've
saved up ten pounds, all my own; and
our owner has Just given me command of
a new barge, with as pretty cabin in as
you'd wish to see; and so, my Lass, /
thought I'd ask you if SO be as now we've
been counting four years, you wouldn't
come to me and be my wife"
"No," 1 said, "no," and shook my
head. "I belong to father, and l could
never leave him-never."
"But you'll have to some day, Pru-
dence," hesaid, looking dreadfully down.
hearted and miserable.
"No," I said, 81 shall never leave
him; he wants me more and more every
day, and must stay"
Prudence" he said, sharply, "you
amt playing with me, are you3"
Playing with your
Yes; mean you amt going to take
UP with any one else, and 60 aboard any
other barge e-no, no, he cried, 81 won't
be so mean as to ask you that. But,
Prudence, dear, some day you may have
to leave him, and when you do, will you
please recollect as John Grove loves you
better than aught else in the wide world,
and is waiting for you to Gomez"
&c Vas Toby, - 7 coid aimpIu
You mean it, Prudence?" he cried,
in delight, as he caught my hand.
= g Yes, John; / don't know any body
else, and there's no one as cares for
me.p
Hundreds ON the riYer," he said,
sharply.
"fhen I don't care for them, John, /"
/ said, simply; g and if you like me, and
l ever do-do-leave-O, dear! what am
l Isayingp'
/ sat down on a fender, and covered
my face with my coarse red hands, and
began to cry; but he took my hands
down, and looked long and lovingly in
my face, with his great, honest brown
eyes; and then he couldn't speak, but
seemed to choke. At last he gasped
out:
"Thanky, Prudence, thanky. Pm go.
ing away now to wait, for you'll come to
me some day, / know
Ididn't answer him.
For the time may come, my lass
when you'll be all alone in the world
and when it does come, there's the cabin
of the Betsy Ann, clean painted up, and
waiting for you, just as her masters
awaiting too.o
He went quietly over the side and cast
off the rope, and was gone before knew
it and / sat there in the calm afternoon
and evening, sometimes crying, some
times feeling hopeful, and with sense
of Joy at my heart such as never had
felt before. y.
And so that evening deepened into
night, with the barge a quarter of mile
astern of us, and no wind coming, only
the tide to help us on our way.
1t must have been about ten o'clock a
night, when 1 was forward seeing to the
light hoisted up to keep any thing from
running into US, when l heard father
come stumbling up from the cabin, anc
make as if to come forward to me.
"Prue," he cried, PrueP P'
" Yes, father, coming" said; ant
then uttered wild shrek; and rushed
towards where the boat hung astern b,
her painter, hauled her up and climbed
in; for no sooner had I answered than
heard a cry, and a heavy splash, and
knew father had gone overheard.
l was into the boat in a moment, ant
had the scull over the scull, paddlin,
away in the direction that the cry ha'
come from; but, though I fancied il
these horrible minutes that l saw ham
stretched out of the water, asking as
were for help, I padded and sculle
about till / was far from our barge, an
then sank down worn out to utter moa
of horror, and sob, go, father! father
what shall 1 doT
"Is that you, Prudence?" said voics
eyes, John, yes" I cried, looking ou
through the darkness, out of which
boat seemed to steal till it was alongsid,
when John stretched out his hand an
! took mine.
"Quickp' 1 gasped, "save him, job
-father-gone overboardW
"When you shrieked out, PrueF"
eyes, yes," walled; go, save hin