The true northerner. [volume] (Paw Paw, Mich.) 1855-1920, 1878-08-23

men OF the State. CauuOus, persever-
ing. obstinate, he had marked out cer-
tain course for his handsome, talented
bow. and determined that he must carry
il out, forgetting that the son usually |
inherits most if not all of his stronger |
parents characteristics. Mr.. Cameron,
too. was proud; proud of his good
Scotch descent, of his abilities and posi-
ton in society; and the idea of Maui
rice taking as wife this daughter of
small. unknown farmer was bitterness
indeed. 1t is true he knew nothing
whatever of the girl, but that made no
difference; he had made up his mind
that Maurice must marry into either
the FELTON,, billiard, or Stuyvesant fam
lies: therefore this unheard-of Sophie
Litchfield was an interloper.
Mrs. Cameron worshiped both hus-
band and son, consequently this dis
agreement-ripening, as it did, into an
Oh en- rupture between the two-cost her
many tear, but against two such stub
born natures she was powerless.
The Lltchfelds were, as Mr.. Cameron
had said, poor, but they were honest,
cultivated, sensible people. Sophie was
the second daughter, and was as pretty,
well-read, graceful girl as any Cameron
ever wooed, and would do honor to any
position in life. Mr.. Litchield talked
seriously with Maurice when he heard
of the quarrel between him and his
father, and, finding that he was deter
mined to pursue his own course, told
him that little adversely, little genu-
inc work, would probably make man of
him, and that he would give him Sophie
more willingly now than ever. So Basil
Cameron was false prophet.
Maurice left home, bag and baggage,
the day of the conversation above re-
corded. His father felt very much Curl
osity to know what he would do, but
would not condescend to make any in
quiries or show any interest.
A fortnight passed away. Mr.. and
Mrs. Cameron were dining with the
Feltons Ga very quiet family dinner) one
day, when there was very fine leg of
mutton on the table.
eyes, thank you, FELTON,, I will take
another SLICE" said Mr.. Cameron;
"that is the best mutton I've tasted
this long time, far better than Brooks
gives us-you trade with Brooks-don't
your"
eyes, usually" answered FELTON,,
hesitatingly, while Lottie and her mother
exchanged amused chances, and 12-year-
old Susie giggled outright.
CT shall go to Brooks tomorrow and
tell him to send me just such leg as
this" continued Mr.. Cameron.
"We-we didn't get this Of Brooks. +"
"No2 Who then?'
"Of a young man who has reopened
Evans old place." said Mr.. FELTON,,
smilingly.
"Then I'll patronize him."
"You could do no better; he is very
worthy young man," said Mrs. FELTON,;
her husband was too busy carving to
reply:
"What is his name? Is he towns
man,"
CT didn't ask him. Is it true that
Latimere has failed?" said Mr.. FELTON,.
"These good friends evidently don't
want me to deal with their butcher, but
1 will" soliloquized Basil Cameron.
On his way down town the next morn
ing he took pains to pass the new butch
er shop; glancing over the doorway
Clancy his horror y he saw spick-and-
span new sign with "Maurice Basil
Cameron, Jr., Butcher, Poulterer and
Fishmonger, plainly painted thereon.
Young Cameron had indeed gone to
work; this was the first, indeed the only,
opening that presented itself, for Nelson
was steady-going town where business
rarely failed or started up very vigor-
ously, and chances to establish ones
self did not occur twice in lifetime.
Maurice was standing near the door
when his father approached with his
immaculate apron and snowy shirt
sleeves, glossy collar and narrow black
necktie, he was a handsome picture in
spite of his very unromantic surround
ings
"Good morning, father, said he cheer
fully. " You see have gone to work !:
took that money I've been saving for a
trip to Europe, and opened this little
place. I've got Evans son with me, an
he knows all about meats and things; I'll
learn after while. You'll give me
your"
"Great Heavens 1t isis it you ?"
eyes, sir, I, Maurice Basil Cameron,
Jr."
think that "junior" was the bitter
est drop in the whole cup for the old
man; really believe that, for a mo-
ment, he repented naming his son after
himself. Too angry, too much aston
ished to know what to say, he turned on
his heel and walked away, but he could
not escape the memory of that awful
signboard; three times that week deli
cate straw -colored handbills were thrust
under his eyes by boys who were dis
tributing them through the town, and
all bore the same legend; every time he
picked up newspaper he saw Maurice's
advertisement; all of his acquaintance
were laughing over Maurice's freak, as
they called it, and not few men APP
plauded the young man and blamed his
father. 1t was genuine agony.
Then, too, he loved the boy and
missed his bright face from the house
that was so quiet without him; he knew
his wife mourned deeply over the sep
aration, and strongly suspected that she
visited the obnoxious shop every day;
he did not want to hurt her feelings, SO
he never asked her where she bought
their meat and poultry; and as the new
butcher was doing thriving trade there
was no hope of his suing for mercy or