New Ulm weekly review., 1880-11-10
PHILIP GRANGER'S LOyE.LETTERS

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PHILIP GRANGER'S LOVE.LETTERs.
THE widow DAILY, Postmistress In the
town of Camden, New York, laid down
the package of letters she was sorting,
and turned to her daughter, with
troubled expression on her face.
"What is the matter, mOtherf' asked
pretty Mary DAILY, who acted as
assistant to her mother, and was busily
stamping letters for the next mail.
"Why, here is another of those pretty
letters for Philip Granger. They have
kept coming for the last six months, and
no one ever calls for them.''
Mrs. DAILY had once been much better
off. Her husband had been q lawyer in
excellent practice, when the war broke
out; but he had joined the army; had
risen to the rank of colonel; and then
had been killed in battle, leaving her
and his only child penniless. Her
friends had interested themselves for
her, and procured her the position of
Postmistress; and the rather scanty
emoluments of this Office, added to her
still soantier pension, was all she had to
live on. But she put q brave face on
things, as did her daughter, and though
sometimes she sighed when she thought
Of the past, she never repined.
II can not find, continued the moth
er, "that there is any such person in
town. The writing is so clear and good,
and the envelope is 80 white and neat
and always sealed with wax, with the ini-
tial H on the seal THAT somehow, to my
mind they are the prettiest letters that
come into the office. Yet, Ihave to send
them, one after another, to the Dead
letter Office; and it just makes me sad
to think how disappointed he must be
at not getting them, and she at not get
ting any answer; for they are plainly
love-letters."
"Why, MOTHER" laughed Mary,
"you are making quite q romance of
the affair. Perhaps they are not love-
letters after all, but only mere business
letters.''
"Don't tell me-" returned Mrs. DAILY.
IL am just as certain these are love-
letters, as that I am standing in the
post-office this blessed minute. Care!
She cares any way, or she wouldn't
write so regularly; and if he don't, he
ought to be ashamed of himsef-that's
all.''
"Is there no way in which you could
not deliveredP" suggested Mary.
"Couldn't you tell the postmaster of
whatever town they come from, that
they are never called forp 1t is just
possible he might ascertain the writer"
~ thought of that," answered her
mother; "but she is evidently moving
from place to place; scarce two of the
letters bear the same p0st-mark! No,
I don't see any way to help them, poor
souls; but 1 am very sorry,' and with
this return to her original state
ment, Mrs. DAILY went back to her task,
and the conversation dropped.
But the subject was not forgotten by
her, r,or her daughter; and often, as week
after week passed, and the little white
dainty missives continued to arrive,
the two women would lay them sadly
away, until the appointed time came to
forward them to the Dead-letter office.
Even when Mary, that autumn, accept
ed the invitation of former school
friend to make her a long visit, the let
ters were not forgotten, one of her part
ing injunctions to her mother being to
be sure and write to her whether they
were called for.
Mary's journey was a long one, and
she was weary of the incessant whirr of
the cars, long before she reached her
destination. The book, with which she
had provided herself, was less interest
ing than she had anticipated, and she
laid it aside, and tried to amuse herself
by observing her fellow-travelers.
There was the inevitable fretting-ba-
by, and nervous mother; and half-a-doz-
en- giggling girls trying their best to at
tract the attention of some rather f1ashy
individuals, who from their manner and
conversation probably belonged to the
genus "drummer." Several staid old
travellers, occupied with their newspa-
pers, completed the assortment, with
the exception of pleasant-looking old
lady, who sat directly opposite Mary,
and who glanced up quickly, whenever
conductor or brakeman opened the door.
Mary had observed q gentleman, appar-
emily her husband, with her, a short
time before, and was idly wondering
what had become of him, when
he entered the car, accompa-
MED by one whom Mary mentally
pronounced the finest looking man she
had ever seen.
"Was 1 gone too long?" lie said to
his wife; 'sthe fact is I met my old
friend, Philip Granger, in the smoking
car, and have brought him to make your
acquaintance :
Mary's thoughts VI y in = wkif1. Had
she misunderstood ta9 namep But no,
for quite clearly. in a momentary lull of
the noise of the train, she heard the
lady's response to her husbands intro
duction: --. .....~.
: II am happy to see you, Mr.. Gran
ger" Gould it indeed be that she thus
accidentally discovered the owner of the
lettersp But it was hardly likely, for
they were all addressed to Camden,
New York, and this man had never,
as far as her mother could discover,
been in the town. Perhaps, however,
he did not wish to claim the letters. Or
he might have been there under an as
sumed name. Mary finally decided that
this could not be the case; the frank,
manly face before her, the pleasant,
genial voice, were utterly at variance
with such supposition. 1t must be
some other Philip Granger, and endeav-
Ging to satisfy herself with this idea,
she turned to her book.
But after awhile, the lady's voics was
again audible.
Where are you residing now, Mr..
Grangerp'' she said. The answer was
distinct. g. have been in Camden,
NoHz Yoraou 40,e aouorol ,,nonfha - .t