The Lambertville record. [volume] (Lambertville, N.J.) 1872-1968, 1882-02-08
MISCELLANY.
WAS TT FLIRTING?


Twas engaged to Angelina Melville, and l
thought myself the luckiest man living. An
gelina 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 well-bred ac-
complished and great heiress had reason
to believe she was very fond of me. No man
could be more 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 I was to preach a
few Sabbaths. The pulpit was vacant and
was going to try my wings. With my pc
cuniary prospects | scarcely thought should
care to accept call to the Vale of Cruix, but
had no objection to filling its pulpit for a
few weeks, especially as Angelina had gone to
the west coast and Glasgow was warm and
stuffy and stupid.
Casual membranes of elegant parsonages
built in Queen Anne's style; of study
where the footballs were softened by Persian
rugs, aud the doors draped in portieres of
velvets F; chairs and desk, carved richly as
some old confessional, fitted through my
mind. And thought also of table spread
with silver and rare china with lady at its
head, who resembled queen. And breath
ed luxurious sigh as awakened from my
day dream to the knowledge that the words
Vale of Cruix " were being shouted ON the
platform and that the train was coming to a
stand-still
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 one driven by an old woman in a
sun bonnet the other by red-haired boy
with bare feet, and a queer knoclS. kneed
horse attached to a queer old gig, was stand
Ing at little distance. young man III Il
light summer suit and a City family bent on
rural happiness, were my companions on the
platform. The former put his trunk in the
wagon, kissed the old woman in the sun bon
net, took the rens and drove away. He was
evidently the son Of the family, come home to
spend his vacation. The rest of the trunks
and city family-mother, father, little boy,
nursemaid and baby-wcre put in the wagon
and driven by the boy.
When the train moved away / was left
alone on the platform alone, but for the
station-master, who sat upon bench smoking
a clay pipe. In a moment more 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 minute
"Thank YOU" said 1.
The station-master took no notice of me,
but, having climbed up on stool and made
some changes on a time register on the wall
of the station, locked the door, put tie key
in his pocket and sauntered away down the
railroad. took his place upon the bench
and waited. In a few minutes a prim old
gentleman appeared upon the top Of the hill,
carrying in one hand tin can, in the other a
tin pail, and under either arm a brown paper
parcel. knew at a glance that it was
Stevenson.
" Are you Mr.. Mactaggert?" he inquired
mildly, as he approached. ~ want to know |?
hadn't any expectation of being kept SO
long, but, you see, it saves the women folks
trouble to fetch things when drive down.
Step in, won't you? I'll jest hang this can
of paraffine lie on behind. Some dislike the
smell-may be you do. The sugar-loaf tea
and coffee can go under the seat as we'll as
not. How's your health, sir, and how do you
like Vale of Cruixs"
answered that my health was good and
that had not, as yet, seen much of Vale of
Cruix.
I" No, you haven't" said the old gentleman.
"Well you'll drive through it now" And
he again 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
church, we came to one happily set about by
old oak trees, before the gate of which we
drew up.
A girl stood at the gate-a fair girl in blue
muslin dress and white apron.
Take the sugar, Mary, before it gets up
set' said the deacon. "This is Mr.. Mac
taggert, that's to preach for us. Mr.. Mac
taggert, this is my daughter Mary"
We bowed, and she vanished with the par
cells.
What lovely cressare !" said to my
self. Nothing like Angelina, but SC
pretty ~ And l found myself thinking of
her as washed my hands and brushed my
| hair in the blue-walled bedroom on the second
! floor, with white fringed counterpanes and
curtains, and two black silhouettes over the
mantel piece on either side of the china vase.
of roses
! There were only four Of us at the table-tht
deacon, his wife, stout lady who never sail
more than she could help, and Mary. Shs
had spent the last Winter at Glasgow, and W.
talked about all she had seen. She was self