The Wellington enterprise. [volume] (Wellington, Ohio) 1867-188?, 1879-05-29

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OF deep which he bssso~sth pienssousiy.
Piilowsd upon his brsast scross our brow
Grief or joy aching-hks . breath Of balm
0od's fingers pass, more soft and soothing now
Than mothers tranquil touch; appesssd Ne bow.
And sink In slumbsr. rsstful. deep and calm.
HOW A NILd-DAN MADE A AATOH
Just opposite a certain pretty little vii
lsge, that shall be nameless, stands, or
rather stood some years ago, in the centre
of low green peninsula, the cottage of
the widow Patrie-a little white dove-cot
of place, nesting down amid the trees,
and almost concealed in the close embrace
of luxuriant grapevine that flung its
mantling leaves and tsndrils around the
weather-beaten walls, like handsome and
witty woman yelling the weaknesses of a
beloved husband.
From the cottage, the land sloped steep
ly down 70 nleef the lmillstreanl, that
served ass dividing line between it and
the main land, the only method Of COM
munication being rustic bridge, formed
of the rough trunk of tree thrown across
from side 70 eide. Said stream was the
most capricious and elfish wster-course
that ever Ofilciated in the prosalc capacity
of turning mill.wheels. II could never
flow onquiefly. II, q direct line, but was
continually bending, turning, widening
and contracting. running up in the land
in lstle, tafk. shady pools then dancing
cut into the sunlight again, with laugh
and ripple, cutting of little. pieces of YER
dure, and manufacturing proyokingly pref
ty and Inaccessible islands, and never mis-
sing an opportunity of tumbling itself
.II,rt nc ST,;.o S,,i} Enayr tbn. sev;utr tha
nfilfUwhefs MN the labor in constructing
their dams.
Adjoining the cottage, garden Haunted
throughout the summer with blue, yellow
and crimson giories, while within blOomed
the fairest flower of all, sweet Alice Patrie,
tho widows only daughter She was lit
tie and 1.-the, with low voice that haunt
ed you like music heard in a dream, and
mysterious brown eyes that seemed two
unfathomable wells oflight and tenderness.
Her complexion had the fresh, soft hue of
and rich maSscs of golden brown hair
hung around her graceful neck and
shoulders in silky ringlets-while lovely
features and perfect little figure rendered
her decidedly the prettiest girl in village
where pretty girls were by No means q
scarce commodity: that Is, in the opinion
of the sterner sex, for the ladies OF that
ilk, one and all, were wont to declare. with
an unanimity of sentiment wonderful to
witness, that Alice had not the slightest
pretentions Of beauty, being only little
hair.
But let none suppose, thought men,
ton this fact rs one of those phenomena
Incidental 10 the female method of think
ing that completely puzzle our blunter
wits, that by any means intend to in
sinuate that these damsels were actuated
by jealousy or malice. There have been
barbarous and audaci0us men so lost to
every finer feeling as boldly and persistent
ly to assert the softer sex to be particular
ly susceptible to his unworthy emotion.
But am n married man and as such re-
gard the dear creatures with peculiar awe
and admiration. i believe them all to be
angels, even the red-haired ones, and If
Laura Matilda turns to the color of the
peOny when chance to praise dearest
Clara's figure, and say something about
an interest in the cottonmarket, l should
only consider her a highminded young
lady actuated by lsudable love of the
truth, and unwilling to cOuntenance q
deception even by a wink of her beautiful
eye-lid.- . 1s,az FrS
So if the Misses Derwent, dashing young
ladies, leaders of the ton, possessors each
of apug nose, and pair of cold, green eyes
turned up the said pugs an inch highe
whenever they met poor little Alice-half
of the village girls following suit-1 at
tributed it to no ungenerous envy, but
rather to that stern, republican spirit which
fixes the standard of worth at a certain
number Of dollars and cents.
Hattie and Sallie Derwent were the
daughters to the squire, who lived in an
immense white barn which was the pride
of the village and the honor of strangers,
and had joint stock interest in a hand
some oad-shouldered brother, whose
mustache created decided sensation at
church the first Sunday after his arrival.
Whether the aforementioned facts had
any influence on the gentle bosoms of the
village damsels, 1 cannot pretend to say !;
but certainly 1t was, that if Alice Patere
could scarcely count a friend among hri
acquain.ances, the Misses Derwent num-
bepell. rtheis by dozens; and so fiercely
| burned The fires Of sffiendship, especially
after the arrival of Luke Derwent. that
young gentleman. who would have march.
ed to the storming of q battery with a
decent share of compOsure was fairly ap-
palled. "a s'.s7-
"Hang it." he said to his friends, ssit is
/ getting unbearable; there is q perfect
dropping fire of notes and messages; and
Sam, the waiter has given us notice that
Il
ton can endure such an amount of fatigue.
| / should think the old house was haunted
by the ghost of a whole convent. Petticoats
continually rustic through the hall and
whistle past the banisters. If / enter the
jdrawing-room there is a giggle and q rush
behind the curtains. If take a stroll
through the grounds, there are more gig
giles and rushes into side-arbors. and as
surely as the girls walk out, in pops some
ringleted feminine, who is so sorry they
are out, and so surprised To see me, that 1
actually feel as if l had no business to be
found in my own house. Then she sim
pers and blushes, and l bow and grin,
wishing all the while that dared shake
some OF the nonsense out Of her"
~What brute!" exclaimed all the young
ladies in q chorus, when some of the men
| were malicious enough TO repeat to them
the above sentiments, and "What a mon-
ster" echoed all the old maids, widows,
and mammas, when Luke, day after day,
sailed out, followed by q pack of yelling
hounds, and equipped with gun or fish
ing rod, or clsttered through the streets
sitting grimly erect rs a stone statue on q
vicious brute of q horse, yclept Lucifer,
and as black rs that parsonage is generally
painted. The deacons talked him over and
shook their heads at him, the old ladies
held up their hands and said, "Now, did
you ever ?" between each pinch of snuff.
Then the sewing society got hold of him,
and after that il was all over with him.
He had not rag or shred of reputation
left TO be discussed. But, like Gallo, he
cared for none Of these things, but went
| on waging war with the birds and sQuir-
rels, and doing his best to depopulate the
neigh boring streams, till one afternoon he
mate his fate in the person Of Alice, in