Clarksville weekly chronicle. (Clarksville, Tenn.) 1873-1890, 1881-10-08
oUm auEEEs OLD LoDGER.

/ no rent to pay; owning the small OLE
fashioned house IN which we lived
and we looked strangely out of plac,
among the stateiy-loaking moderl
/ dwellings that crowded up agains
it ON either side, quite putting i
! out of eountenance by their superiol
height and appearance.
| Grandfather built it many year
| before, when young man, anC
when all that brick and mortar were
verdant fields and weIl-kept gardens
dotted here and there by houses a.
low and modest as his own. HC
owned a large farm and was consid
cred a wealthy man for those days
but acre after acre had been sold un,
til nothing. was left except the house
/ in which ray father was born, and
which was the only inheritance d
his children. But we made the
most of it, Margie and ], as you will
Sec
Ilhardly think we should have
dared to do such thing while faith
er lived, who would have consider
ed it sort of saerilege; but soon af-
/ ter his death we turned the front
part of the house into a shop, with
show-windowS which open out upon
the street, in which TO display the
| articles we kept for sale.
This was matter of necessity
rather than choice, it being all that
| could do at home; and / could not
leave Margie. Poor Margie was a
cripple; she had received fall when
| four years old, and never walked
since. She had been a great care TO
me for years, but never a burden.
She was so thoughtful, patient, and
cheerful that, in the event of our
separation, think | should have
missed her quite as much as she
would me. She was very useful,
too; lying on the lounge in our lit
tie sitting-room, her hands were
never idle, crocheting tides, nit
tens and edging, and doing various
kinds of fancy-work, for which |
found sale in the shop, and though
the price asked was only moderate
ly in excess of the cost of material,
it helped us not little.
Margie kept all the accounts, too;
having a clearer head than /, and u
knowledge, or rather intuition, of
character that was wonderful, con-
sidering how secluded her life had
of necessity been, never thought of
taking any step without consulting
Margie.
We two lived very quietly hav-
ing few acquaintance, and no near
relative or friend-except John.
John was my lover, and no girl ev-
er had one more kind and true. He
was poor in worldly goods, but oh,
so rich in goodness and manly
worth! He might have been plain
to those who knew him not-I can
not tell how he looked to other eyes
but there was mole than beauty
to me, in that frank, honest face,
and the big brown hands that were
so strong and helpful.
We had been engaged ever since
| was eighteen-I was twenty three
now and no nearer to being mar
ried, as | could see, than we were
five years before. But still we low
ed on and hoped on. John had a
widowed and infirm mother, and /,
Margie; and though she was any
thing but burdensome to me,
/ could not think of adding any
further weight to the hands that
were full enough already.
Trade not being very brisk dur
ing the summer, Margie and | de-
cided to eke out our slender income
by letting the room over the shop. |
1t was low, and the slant of the roof |
on one side, ami big chimney made |
it full Of queer hooks and corners. |
The furniture was old, being some |
that grandfather had when he was
married but with the help of John |
who could spare me an hour or two |
of evenings, / furnished it up so /
that it looked very well. By dint /
of pieceing and contriving l covered |
the floor with Il neat carpet, the bed |
and windows were draped with
white, some pretty prints hung up |
ON the wall; and on the whole | was
very we'll satisfied with the results
Of our labor.
When all Was done John wrote a
notice, Bedroom to let-inquire
within" But though l placed it in
the shop window, where it could be
plainly seen from the street, nearly |
three weeks passed and we had on
Iy two applications for the room, |
md from persons who only looked |
1t it and then went away.
One morning, as l was dusting
The counter and putting, the shop to
rights, saw queer-looking oddly
1resSed old man standing in front |
Of the window, his eyes fixed upon
he notice in it, and his moving lips
slowly .syllaDifying each word. He
wore shoes with big buckles on
hem, and a snuff-colOred coat, with
short waist and long skirts, and
which looked as if they might have
been his grandfather's. But the
oldest thing about him was the
ong white hair which fell upon his
and the heavy beard of
he same color which touched his
breast. A broad-brimmed hat COM
Dletef his quaint, Quaker-like APP
Dearance.
The door being ajar, before had
ime to lay aside my duster, he was
It the counter.
He stared at me for some mo-
nents without speaking, and then
pointing to the notice with his cane,
;aid:
"Wili thee let me look at it?"
Inwardly hoping that this appli-
,ation would not share the fate of
hose that had preceded it, / led the
way up stairs. 10 my great grief,
,ur prospective lodger, far from OBJ
ecting to the sloping roof and old
ashioned furniture, seemed to re-
sard them with feelings of positive
interest and admiration.
"It is like the chamber / used to
leep in when boy" he said, as he
ooked around, and speaking more
o himself than to me.
AS l wanted Margie to see him
,efore 1 decided, / took him down
through the sitting room where she
S'This gentleman thinks of taking
,ur room, sister" l said, as she
glanced up at us.
"If within my means," interpos-
"a the stranger. 81 am a poor
man,"
Margie's clear, soft, penetrating
yes were quietly reading the face
i the speaker. What she saw
eemed satisfactory, for she nodded
N reply to my questioning look.
In spite of his threadbare apparel,
le looked so thoroughly respectable
hat l was half ashamed of the ques-
ion that felt compelled to put.
Il suppose you have references,
ir?"