Weekly Trinity journal., 1879-05-10
HOW FRED FOUND A WIFE


eighth year in the vain hope of finding
some paragon who would enchain his
senses, and prove to be his ideal. In the
search after this undiscovered perfection,
he had become weary. At last, one ear
ly summer day, he found himself at
Maplewood, beautiful village among
the hills. He was delighted with its
surroundings, and resolved to remain for
day or two at the little inn.
To his amazement he found fruit for
breakfast, though it was still June. "'Tis
like living in Paris" he said to himself,
slipping his coffee. "These strawberries
are the best l ever ate" he remarked, to
the landlady. Do they grow in your
garden ?"
"Oh, no these ara some that Miss
Stainey raised. We've young lady
here who has fne garden, and we bay
OF her, because we always get the best, :"
said the hostess. "Her father died last
year he was clergyman, and left Moth
ing but the house and garden. Miss
Stainely supports her mother and her
self"
Miss Staineiy must be quite gem
ius," said Fred, taking up his paper.
" Indeed she is her garden isa sight
to be seen. They send for miles around
for her fruits and flowers"
" An old maid, 1 presume" muttered
Fred.
" No, indeed as fresh and blooming
young lady, and as well hammered as
you could wish to see. Every body loves
Miss Stainely."
Fred smiled 90 himself, and soon for
got Miss Stainely. But some hours after,
went out for walk, he saw little brown
cottage that arrested his attention by its
pictuIesqueness. There was vine.
covered porch, with the Wisteria climb
ing up all the corners, and there were
great double roses, full of sweet odors,
blushing beside the pretty entrance.
just then little boy came out Of the
small gate with basket of strawberries.
Pray, my lad" said Fred, "who
lives here ?"
iss Stainely, sir" was the answer.
Fred glanced again at the strawberries
They looked douby beautiful now that
he knew young lady and one said to bo
pretty, had picked them. He wondered
II her fingers were fair. Then he laughed
to himself at the folly Of such an idea.
Suddenly voice sounded so near that
1t startled him.
PLEASE bring me my pruning shears,
Janey this vine needs attention." it
said.
Heavens is she strong enough to
WELD them ?" thought Fred, with sort
of horror.
All the poor little things how
bate to cut them But they must CO."
said the voice, And Fred noticed how
caressing and tender, how soft, and low,
and womanlY the voice was. "And
here's my darling little Conrod," the
voice went on, putting out such tiny
moist buds | gave it upa week age,
and came near cutting it down how
glad | am | spared it,"
By this time Fred was in an agony to
see the lips from which proceeded such
sweet sounds. At that moment gentle
faced, elderly woman appeared at the
back door, and said
Rose, dear, the sun is getting too
hot"
Yes mother" was the reply; and
slight girliSh figure, the face complete
ly shaded by large garden hat, came
bliIhely forward, sprang up the steps and
vanished.
Rose What pretty name !" mus
ed Fred, more Interested than he had
ever found himself before "And such
a little creature. l had fancied her large
and masculine in face and figure
Pshaw what fool | am What is the
girl to me ?"
True, what was she TO him 1t was
very strange that her voice haunted him
so. little country girl who sold vege.
tat tles-he would not think Of her again.
But the next day, almost before he
knew it, he found himself sauntering to-
ward the brown cottage. AS he came
near, there YVES Il sound of music a
piano forte, we'll played "The Wed
ding March, " lis favorte. He stopped,
thunderstruok. What did it mean
Could the hands that dug and weeded
elicit such harmonious chords
Presently the music ceased.
"She must go out and pull radishes,"
laughed Fred, nervously to himself.
Then bright thought struck him.
She sold berries, seedlings, slips. Why
not sell some to him He would, at least,
ask her.
You see, Fred was bold fellow, and
no " faint-hearted coward. In mo,
ment he was ushered into a room, which,
at first glance, he took for habitation
OF the fairies. Hanging basket, rustic
frames, vines twined over every window;
little grotto of moss and shell-work in
one corner book cases, tastefully orna-
mented the piano, with one of the most
beautiful covers be had ever seen in his
life the carpet like bed Of ferns the
chairs and tables quaint IN their fashion
ing.
Miss Rose Stainely came in. She was
neither blonde nor brunette. She had
charming large, gray eyes, under straight
lashes, and lips just large enough and
sweet enough to match the voice Fred
whirl. Never had he been less As.s