Mexico weekly ledger., 1878-10-24

carving to reply.
"What is name? Is he a towns
man?"
ssI--I didn't ask him. Is it true
that baltimore has failed?" said MIR.
FELTON,.
"These good friends evidently
don't went me to deal with their
butcher, but / WILL" soliloquized
Basil Cameron.
On his way down town the next
morning he took pains to pass the
new butcher shop; glancing over the
doorway fancy his horror!) he saw
a spick-and-span new sign with "Mau-
rice 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
a steady-going town where business
rarely failed or started up vigorous
ly, and chances to establish ones
self did not occur twice in a lifetime.
Maurice was standing near the
door when his father approach with
his immaculate apron and snow shirt
sleeves, glossy collar and narrow
black necktie, he was a handsome
picture in spite of his very unroman
tic surroundings.
"Good morning, father" said h.
cheerfully. "You see I have gon,
to work took the money I've beef
saving for a trip to Europe, and open
ed this little place. I've got Evans
son with me, and he knows all about
meats and things I'll learn after q
while. You'll give me your"
"Great Heavens! 1t isis it
your"
"Yes, sir. Maurice Basil Cameron,
Jr."
! think that '.junior' was the bit
terest drop in the whole cup for the
old man ; L really believe that, for a
moment, he repented naming his son
after himself. Too angry, too much
astonished tc know wha: 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 delicate straw-colored
handbllls were thrust under his eyes
by boys who were distributing them
through the town, and all bore the
same legend every time he picked
up q newspaper he saw Maurice's adj
vertisement /; all ofhis acquaintance
were laughing over Matrices freak,
as they called it, and not a few men
applauded the young man and blam-
ed 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 oycr
the separation, and strongly suspect
ted 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 c butcher was
doing a thriving trade, there was 10
hope OF bis suing for mercy Or for
help.
Three months passed, and a day
came that for twenty-eight years Mr..
and Mrs. Cameron had held q home
festival-their wedding anniversary.
The night before it dawned, Basil
Cameron knew that his wife had cried
nearly oil night. How could she
keep a festival without her boy?
"Oh, dear!" he grnaned as he left
the house after breakfast. 81 must
do it. The boy is as stubborn-as !
am and / can't see his mother fret .
lie shall have his country girl-con-
found her-justa as he had the ham,
mer and the looking-glass when he
was a baby"
sRichard, the coachman, also fanci-
ed himself crazed when his master
told him to drive out on the Barton
road to Farmer Litchfield's, instead
of down to the bank, Is usual early
in the morning.
"Does Miss Sophie Litchfield live
here he asked of a pretty girl who
was just coming out the front door OF
the house pointed out to him as the
Litchfield's.
eyes, sir; please walk in; she's
here in the parlor."
Instead of a slipshod, blowsy gil,
Mr.. Cameron found Sophie to be Q
very attractive young lady; quite as
well-mannered and pleasant as Lottie
FELTON,. His visit was far longer than
he intended, for he ended by going
| all over the farm with the father
while the daughter was making a few
changes in her dress, preparatory tc
spending the day with her future
mother-in-law. Mrs. Cameron had
smiles instead of tears that day; fol
she not only had her boy at home
again, but discovered that Sophia
was just exactly the sort of a girl she
had always pictured as Maurice's
wife. 81 could not have chosen bet
ter myself" vas her verdict.
Maurice stuck to his determination
to go into business, instead of playing
the fine gentleman all his life; but