The weekly register. [volume] (Point Pleasant, Va. [W. Va.]) 1862-1909, 1881-07-13
A LOVE EPISODE.
Which Imparteth u Good Moral.

VAlcH lulptTtGtu u UOOu NAOrNl.
Albert Morris was young Phila.
delphian, of family, wealth, fine
talent, considerable beauty, and with
all these, an honest and feeling heart,
acute sensibility, and pure, correct,
moral principles.
1t CHANGED that one sunny after.
noon in October, this unexceptiona.
BILE hero of ours was saunlering down
Chestnut street, in listless or rather
unhappy mood, his brow lowering,
and his eyes glancing about with Il
restless look Of discomfort. Now
what possible trouble or annoyance
could come nigh so fortunate and
charming young man?
Suddenly he gazes an eager look
forward, his eyes frightened, his
checks flushed, and his step quick,
cned. Surely he could not mistake
that form, that gait, that air-no, it
was Clara Atwood. She did not see
him. or seemed ~ mark him till they
were almost face to face. Then she
smiled, blushed, and paused mo-
ment, us Morris, lifting his hat, in
qnired with a joyful air, when she
arrived in town..
"0nly last night" she replied, and
after few more words, passed on.
Miss Atwood was an undeniable
beauty, and a belle Of much celebrity.
Her taste in dress was exquisite,
though rather on the magnificent
order. She had many accomplish,
ments, keen wit, and some genius;
so it is little wonder that as far as
she had revealed herself, she had
been enchanting to the poetical and
somewhat irrepressible Albert Morris.
1t was spring when they first met,
and before they both left the city for
the summer, dreams, wondrous pleas.
ant, in which the perilous belle al
ways appeared, became perilously
frequent with him.
And Miss Atwood? Why, she smil,
ed sweetly on all he said or did, and
bent herself toward him slightly
very slightly, from the pedestal Of
her pride. With Il most comfortable
faith in her own irresistibleness, she
even considered the heart of every
man she met as u kind of fruit, very
ripe, and very soft, and only waiting
the least possible shake on her part,
to fall into her hand or at her feet.
But let US return to that walk Of
our hero's down Chestnut street.
His heart was filed with indescri-
bable emotion, heinvoluntarily turn,
cd his head to look after the fair lady.
As he did so he remarked that she
swept along with her half nonchal.
ant, half naughty gait, the fringe Of
her rich mantle caught on the edge
of a basket borne by poor old wo'
man who was hobbling with crutch,
The basket was filed and piled up
with oranges, and as Miss Atwood
gave an impatient pull to extract
the fringe, she half upset the baske,
-purposely it was evidcnt-and out
rolled golden shower Of oranges
With no expression of regret, but
with frown like midnight, and 4
cool "You should have kept out oI
the way, she pushed maJestlcally
on, and entered Levy's inviting door
The old woman stood the image o.
despair; poor feeble creature, jostleG
by the fashionable throng, she coulc
not help herself in this sad eXtremi
ty. Surprised, indignant, and shock
ed beyond expression, Morris, witt
one of his quick, humane impulses
turned back to assist her; but he was
too late, for slight graceful figure
sprang forward, and two dear littl,
white gloved hands began picking
up the oranges and replacing then
in the basket of the grateful old dame
and sweet, kind voice said
20, do not thank met is moth
,..IN, ~