Vermont phÅ“nix. [volume] (Brattleboro, Vt.) 1834-1955, 1881-12-09
WAS TT A FILTRATION?

thought myself the luckiest man living
Angelina was SO handsome that no stranger
ever saw her without expressing admiration,
and one did not weary with the face after
years of familiarity with it, She was we'll
bred, accomplished and a great heiress. 1
had reason to believe she was very fond of
me. No man could be moro entirely content
than was as leaned back in the first-class
carriage which took me from Glasgow into
the country, to the Vale of Cruix, where 1
was to preach few Sabbaths.
The pulpit was vacant, and / was going to
try my wings. With my pecuniary prospects
1 scarcely thought should care 10 accept a
call to the Vale Of Cruix, but had no OBJ
lection to filling its pulpit for n few weeks,
especially as Angelina had gone to the West
coast, and Glasgow was warm and stuffy and
stupid.
Casual remembrances Of elegant parson-
ages built in Queen Annes style; of study
where the footballs were softened by Persian
rugs, and doors draped in portieres of velvet;
chairs and desk carved richly as some old
confessional, fitted through my mind And
l thought also of table, spread with silver
and rare china with lady at it's head who
resembled queen. And breathed luxuri-
Gus sigh as l awakened from my day dream
to a knowledge that the words "Vale Of
Cruix" were being shouted on the platform,
seized my travelling bag from the rack
overhead and hurried out Of the carriage.
The porters had just pulled four or five
trunks on the platform. Two old wagons
stood in the road, ono driven by an old wo-
man in a sun-bonnet, the other by q red
haired boy, with bare feet; and o queer,
knock-kneed horse, attached to n queerer old
gig, was standing at little distance.
young man, in a light summer suit, and a
city family bent ON rural happiness, were my
companions on the platform.
The former put his trunk in the first wag-
on, kissed the old woman in the sun-bonnet,
took the reins and drove away. He was evil
dently the son of the family, come home to
spend bis vacation. The rest of the trunks
and city family-mother, father little boy,
nursemaid and baby-were put in the wagon
and driven by the boy
When the train moved away / was left
alone on the platform-nlone, but for the
station master, who sat upon bench smok-
ing clay pipe.
In moment moro the official, without
looking at me, made the remark: Deacon
Stevenson has come for the new minister
He's over in the hotel and will be back in a
minute"
''Chank you," said l.
The station master took no notice of me-
but, having climbed up on a stool and made
some changes in a time register on the wall
of the station, locked the door, put the key
in his pocket, and sauntered away down the
railroad.
took his place upon the bench and wait
cd. In a few minutes a prim little old
gentleman appeared upon the top of the hill,
carrying in one hand tin can, in the other
tin pail, and under either arm q brown pa
per parcel. knew at a glance that it was
Stevenson.
''Are you Mr.. Mactaggert?" he inquired
mildly, as he approached. II want TO know!
l hadn't any expectation of being kept so
long, but, you see, It saves the women folks
trouble to fetch things when l drive down.
Step in, won't you? I'll jest hang this can
of parafne lie on behind. Some dislike the
smell-maybe you do. The sugar-loaf, tea
and coffee can go under the seat as well as
not. How's your health, and how do you
like Vale of Cruix."
answered that my health was good and
that had not, as yet, seen much of Vale
of Cruix.
mo, you haven't" said the old gentleman.
"Wel you'll drive through it now" And
he shook the reins, and the old horse began
TO stumble along. And on we drove past
certain rows of brick houses very much like
each other, and with the same flowers in
their front gardens, until, having passed the
old oak trees, before the gate of which we
drew up.
A girl stood at the gAte-a fair girl in a
blue muslin dress and white apron.
Take the sugar, Mary, before it gets up
set" said the deacon ''This is Mr.. Mactag-
gert, that's to preach for us. Mr.. Mactag-
CERT, this is my daughter Mary"
We bowed, and she vanished with the par
cells
''What lovely little creaturel" said to
myself. ''Nothing like Angelina, but so
prettyl" And l found myself thinking of
her as l washed my hands and brushed my
hair in the blue-walled bedroom on the sec
ond floor with white fringed counterpanes
and curtains, and two black silhouettes over
the mantel piece, on either side of the china
vases of roses
There were only four of us at table-the
deacon, his wife, a stout lady, who never
said more than she could help, and Mary.
She had spent the last winter ut Glasgow,
and we talked about all she had seen. She
was self possessed without being forward, and
oh, so prettyl Now, Angelina was splendid
and queenly, so this was mild praise that she
could not have objected to, only said it very
often. preached on the next Sunday. 1t
was settled that should spend the summer
there. / wrote this to Angelina:
''Sinoe you cannot be with me it does not
matter where am-this stupid place as we'll
as any other Address to the care of Deacon
Stevenson. shall remain with him while
preach here"
1t was pleasant summer, despite the dull
ness of the place. How good the quaint old
deacon was when one really knew him How
motherly was Mrs. Stevensonl As for Mary,
she grew sweeter every day have often
wondered what Angelina would have said
could she have seen me helping her TO pick
blackberries, TO find the runaway COW, or 10
carry home the milk pail, driving her over to
the country grocery, and returning with a
freight of roceries-Angelina, who knew
nothing of domestic details, and whose mon