American citizen., 1879-02-22

hitching-post, and afterward, with his
hand or the very knocker, he paused to
scan the distant horizon, as though he
had come mainly for view of the
mountains. Miss Olive opened the door,
her cheeks flushing like late October
woman had she not OWNED the Dea-
cons tender mission, proclaimed by
every detail of his immaculate toilette,
by the grasp of his hand, by his nervous.
expectant air. And, moreover, Miss
Olive was an attractive woman, not un-
versed in lovers ways.
"Happy to see you, Mr.. Phoenix.
Walk in," said she, flurriedly, ushering
him into the sitting-room, where her
aged father dozed in his armchair.
"Who is it, Oliver" said the old gen.
tleman, waking up with a bewildered
stare.
"Mr. Phoenix, father. You remem-
ber Mr. Ph0nix, I'm sure"
"I don't know as 1 do" said he,
querulously, fumbling with the guests
outstretched hand. What's he come
for, Oliver"
The Deacon looked as if he was sud-
denly feeling the hot weather; Miss
Olive was positively feverish, but she
deftly evaded the troublesome question
by diverting her fathers attention. His
peppermint tea was ready-would he
not drink itp As she hovered about the
invalid, Strengthening his footstool, ar
ranging his pillows, steadying the cup
while he drank, Mr.. Phonix regarded
her admiringly. How young she SEEM
ed still! Not gray thread in her gold
en- hair, scarcely wrinkle in her face.
That was because of her excellent dispo-
sition. He waited till she had soothed
the old man into slumber, then in di-
rect, manly way introduced the subject
that lay next his heart.
Miss Olive interrupted him by an elo-
quent glance toward her father.
"He is very childish and dependent.
He can not do without me-"
"Let me help you care for him.
Olive; my house is large, my means are
ample"
81 couldn't, Mr.. Phonix-it is like
your generosity to propose such thing
but I couldn't have him burden upon
you"
"Why, bless your soul, Olive, do you
suppose l should consider a friend OF
yours burdenp"
"You don't know how trying poor
father would be to any body but his own
daughter, and think he is likely to live
to a great age, as grandfather did"
"For that very reason, then"
Besides, it would make him wretch
ed to take him from the old homestead. -
"But, Olive"
$50 you see I'm engaged, Mr..
Phenx," said Miss Olive, playfully,
while she whisked away tear. elm
engaged. You must marry some lady
who isn't. And 1 hope you'll be as
happy as you deserve to be-" she added,
with little tremor, springing up to ad-
just the curtain.
In vain he tried to bend her to his
wishes; she remained outwardly firm
as the hearth-stone at her feet, till at
length he arrived at the unwelcome
conviction that she had no liking for
him, or she would have listened to his
pleadings. She had interposed the old
gentleman merely as sort of cushion
to soften the blow of her rejection.
II he took smiling leave, it was be-
cause pride tugged at his facial muscles,
for, to tell the truth, he had never been
more disappointed and chagrined in his
life. OF what avail the stylish equipage
upon which he had once plumed him.
selfp Was it not bearing him on to the
tomb? And why should he wish to pro-
long this earthly pilgrimageP What
further attractions had life for him, a
lonely old man nearing 70p
Hardly conscious of the reins, he had
driven some miles at an unsanctifed
pace, when he almost ran over Mr..
Torrey, brother of the deceased Lu-
cinda, who was walking behind his car
riage up long ascent.
"Going to ConferenceP' asked that
gentleman, after an exchange of greet
ings. "Didn't you come a roundabout
way?"
"I'm inclined to think did, )" assent
ed the Deacon, with prodigious show
of candor. ga roundabout way and a
hard way. Is your wife with youp"
"Yes, and the Widow Vance. have
to foot it up hill, you see. Horse step
ped on rolling stone back piece and
famed himself"
"Your load is too heavy; let Sister
Torrey ride with me-"
But Sister Torrey being nervous like
Lucinda before her, and mortally afraid
of the Deacon's spirited steed, it was in
the end Mrs. Vance who nestled into
the vacant seat. She was a gushing
young widow whose mitigated grief
manifested itself in certain coquetish
bows of pale lavender. She protested
that she felt already acquainted with Mr..
Phonix through her late husband, to
whom he had been so kind. She was so
glad of this opportunity to thank him.
She should never cease to be grateful for
the many favors he had conferred upon
dear Charles, etc.
In the morning the worthy Deacon
would have smiled inwardly at this ef-
fusive panegyric. This afternoon he
hugged it like a poultice to his aching
heart. 1t soothed his wounded seh-love,
and inclined him toward his fair eulo-
gist, to whom he recounted pleasant an