Lexington weekly intelligencer. (Lexington, Mo.) 1871-1887, 1879-07-19

wretched, and would have been glad to
die if he had had even enough force to
give himself surcease. Something of
this state, perhaps. became evident to
Mrs. Mynshyn; for one day she was
found in his study turning over the pa
pers again. There is enough OF this
dene,' she said, ..if one could make |
head or tail OF it. to send TO the printer
Tor beginning. Have another copy ist,
and get it ready, Arnold" He agreed
with her, and
Gas the king said so was it DONE
"Statuesque rs Memnon STILL; said
Miss Furneval. after glance at the hos
tess, on the night when she was installed
at Mr. Petersham's in obedience to his
advertisement for q copyist, land, like
that, has lost the music" Then she
turned to meet MIR. Petersham coming
past thirty, with Il lace that, had it been
less pale and melancholy, would have
had beauty in it like the rugged beau
tv OF the hills-a son OF Anak. But
what Miss Furneval thought she kept to
herself. only her fingers tightening on
the back of the chair she grasped, as
Suc UcllL III SllcuG dlsWcI " ulS obIue.1-
ton. '.Entombed. With this mummy
she murmurcd to herself as she went to
her room to prepare for tea. 81 wonder
| if she remembers when she was the
daughter of the Pharaoh? Three thou
sand years old, at the very least. How
| few it makes ones poor little number!-
| and was feeling SO old and sad before"
One of the daughters of men, said
nj M oh oil cnI fINn
land thanks be to praise! very plain
one;' and she repeated the remark Tor
Mr.. Petersham's benefit.
Was she PLAIN? Mr.. Petersham thought
| of it a moment next moruing rs she be-
gan to copy the scraps that he had PIN
ned together for her first days work.
where her old predecessor of three years
ago had lett it. Why, yes; probably
yet hardly. No; and he remembered
King Solomon's love, who was dark but
comely. For if Miss Furnevais cheek
was dark, peculiarly dark, like deep,
soft, sunburned tan, the steady scarlet
underneath its tint was rich as pome-
granate; and the eyes-well. the long
black lashes that almost rested on the
dark-hued hollow above the cheek, as
she bent over her pen, hid their starry
darkness; for the rest there was some-
thing smooth, sweet and wholesome
about the face that answered well In
place of scupturesque outline; the black
hair dressed low on the brow in large
rings and Recamier locks, and square
of black lace always tied over the head
and about the chin, with its fluffy shad-
ow, increased the picturesque appear
ance. Ozark but comely," said MIR.
Petersham, ssand writes q remarkable
hand. Singular how the same occupa-
ton develops the same trait-same num-
her of hearth beats or nervous moYe-
ments, suppose; has a trick like that
old woman, the last copyist." And just
then Miss Furneval glanced up, and
F. meeting his curious gaze. smiled little
in spite of herself, and the smile deep
ened TO a laugh, an infectious laugh,
and the pen fell from her fingers ano
half an hour alterward, when she TOOK II
up again, they were on excellent terms
If she was plain.
When Miss Furneval went out at sun
set, the first thing that she saw was ina
desolate little graveyard, with its bro
ken fence and its low slate stones lichen
= ed and storm worn. Nothing ever seem
l ed more melancholy. A week or so at
terward she ventured 4 second tlm'
/ within the enclosure, and stopped Il
make out one of the inscriptions:
; Pass, way farer, and do not waste your time
On bad biography and bitter rhyme;
Y What am now this cumbr0'ls clay inSufes'
| And what was is no affair OF yours.
l She read it again ,and saw that. to stran
S ger, it ght explain much to be felt rath
G er than observed IN the character AM
IS condi.iun OF these people, the represeta
l. tlves of these dead AS she leaned ol
o the old stone, looking at the landscap
l. around, which, with its dun shades an
: violet mists, had q wilder and sweete
i charm than ut other times, Mr.Petershan
e came down the hillside and stood a mo
s ment looking over the valley too
i 'sDesolatlon OF desolatlon! said he.
II "Why do you let it stay SOP" she re
II spondcd, as il thinking he meant tn
,r little group OF graves.
Il ..Oh, that? l neither let nor hinder
l. Nature has taken the graves to herself
and does rs she will"
v sBut I little care would make 1t les
n desolate. 1T you removed this broke
S. fence, planted some shrubs-You hav
no tlowers-you could make this wilder
e. ness blossom like the rose. and tax
+, such pleasure from the flowers"
t. You can do as you choose with il
s. Ii you love flowers and their care, plar
% some here, Miss Furneval, said MI
to Petersham. "Make it less desolate
of you can.'' And with Il bow he passed OF
e. Two days aiterward a young silver
< stemmcd birch-tree was shaking its lea
IN less boughs in the April weather by th
5. block mark ed with Gerarda's 8 name, an
h. a neighboring mound had been turne
le into bed OF deep and double violet
a. After that Miss Furneval was her ow
J. carpener, and the rest was done b
If transplanting in her sunset strolls, b
le the aid of knife and trOwcl, the flower
T. and bushes that she found and love'
le AS the May days heightened, and M
Petersham used to see her in the lal
at twilight planting and wedding and W:
I'd tering the tender things. 4 sense of lift
le different from any he had known to
o. years, touched him; and when one Jun
le morning he looked out and saw the spt
IN mass of azure and crimson and gol'
le blossoming under her fingers, it SCENE
at as if she had brought the dead to lite, AN
r. had turned death itself INTO beauty;
v, if, after all, he might have been mistal
in en- in his dark imaginings, and thel
n were some joy and use in the world th'
le was not all a hollow travesty. 1t plea
te ed him to see this young person pursuin
M her own llfe-golng to church. to ear
It. and late service aud prayer-meetin!
of having now and then Il call from ID
Ig Gilbert, the old minister, refreshing he
e. like wine. singing her little hymns |
a. herself. 1t grew to be like the turnin
le of q page in new book to him evcl
d. day.
er Meanwhile the copying proceede
hit much like Penelope's web; for as Nj
if Petersham walked somewhat from h
ry moral lethargy, he was more and mo-
IN dissatisfied with his work ,and undid al
III did again every days achievement, N
So in the conversations that naturally el
le sued he felt himself. for the first TIN
T. in years, experiencing the beginnil
VS. of vital interest in something.
IN something? Yes, truly; not merely
d. work, not merely in the blooming
H. flowers, in the returning beauty OF I'll
SIS changing mountain pictures. but in tn
stately young woman. Pshaw! M
H. Petersham would not whisper the su
ct picion of such thought to himself. Ill
ar with his jeunes$e epuiSee he. dol
re with life; he, pinch of ashes. ready
no blow on the winds-what had he to {