The weekly Floridian. [volume] (Tallahassee, Fla.) 1867-19??, 1882-12-05
A MAN THAT NUCCEEDED.

my only daughter, sir" said Colonel
Monteagle. "And. as l venture to hope,
accomplished in her way. We are not
much in the way of schools or academies
here, but have been her instructor my
self, and she is thorough mathematician,
an excellent musician, and linguist of no
mean capacity. We are studying Hebrew
now every day, she and /, and she de-
votes her evenings to comprehensive re-
views of her Latin and Greek. She will
be scholar, sir, if live to complete her
education!"
Mr. Crofton looked curiously at the
oddly-assorted pair the silver-haired,
shabbily -attired old gentleman, with his
large forehead, eagle eve and delicately-
white hands; and the dark-browed, sullen-
looking girl, with gypsy skin, untidy
frock and patched boots.
Pretty? Yes, she might be pretty un-
der some circumstances. The diamond
itself is not an attractive stone before the
lapidary's art has polished its rude angles
into glittlering facets of white fire. But
she certainly possessed no sweet, feminine
graces now.
"How old are you, Miss Menteagle -
he asked, finding it imperatively necessary
to say something.
And Mary Monteagle answered in
words, Seventeen" while her looks re-
piled, plainly. "None of your business !! -
"Go, my child, and gather some flowers
to deck our humble board" said the old
gentleman, magniloquaptly," while he
conducted the son of his oldest friend
into the tumble down old stone house,
where the carpets were moth-eaten, the
furniture mildewed and every trace of
decayed gentihty told the sad story of
better days.
Mrs. Monteagle, who had been beauty
once, and had her portrait engraved in q
"Gallery of American Rosebuds," was
sitting mp in state in battered boudoir,
in black silk dress that must have been
quite quarter of century old, with a
flower in her silver-sprirkled hair, and
still preserving the girIish attitude in
which the engraver's pencil had immor-
talized her, oddly contrasting with the
sharpened outlines and haggard abrupt
ness of her sixty-odd years.
And this was the way in which the old
couple lived in the dead past, as it were,
Colonel Monteagle starving contentedly
on the recollection of his past grandeur,
and his wife fondly fancying that time
had stood still since the days in which
she was counted worthy to be one of the
American Rosebuds."
Mrs. Monteagle sweetly welcomed her
<~r,no< and <ouohoI ho 1.t+1a kooI hall o<
her side.
"We will dine,' Sarepta," she said to
the maid.
"Please, ma'am," breathlessly uttered
the young person, there amt nothin' for
dinner. We eat the last of the cold beat
yesterday, and the dog he tipped over
the pan of oysters, and"
"That will do, Sarepta," said Mrs. Mont
eagle, with a red spot mounting to each
of her cheek bones. 81 said-we will dine!"
And Sarepta withdrew with jerk.
The dinner was served presently-an
instance of the magnetic power of will
but there was no cold beef, neither were
there oysters. Fruit, thin, 'watery soup
of herbs and parsley, tastefully garnished
salads of lettuce and mayonnaise, and .
dish of peaches and cream. formed the
meal.
"Quite Arcadiani |" said Mrs. Mont
eagle, with a giggle.
"And very badly served" secretly COM
mented Mr.. Crofton to himself But
the said was NICE"
"Where is Mary?" the Colonel asked.
drinking in the beauties of the sun
set, l presume" the lady answered, airily.
Is The dear child has an artists soul,
and we do not tie her down to any hours
or rules"
The Colonel fell asleep in his chair after
dinner. Mrs. Monteagle and her painted
fan withdrew themselves into the boudoir
and Mr.. Crofton, inwardly bewailing
himself that he had promised to stay .
week At Monteagle Manor, sauntered ont
- upon the a.,ig heights which overlooked the
As he stood there, rustling sounded
in the bushes, and the dark-browed
gypsy sprang mp the hillside.
You have . fne place here, Miss Mont
eagle. 2 he said, by way Of making him
self agreeable.
81 Este il !" sid Mary, darkly.
"I-beg yosr pardon : exclaimed Mr..
Croiton, in amusement
/ do fashed ont the girl--a hate
il ALL The learning and the purity, and
the erand prstenoea, and the miserable
makeshihaA
BIT
= All rid Mary Monteaele, !. you
doa't know.it aII. You never heard the
tradesnsn hovling = tie bAck doors ike
: p0ck of hoWiInR wolves; ron don't
knoN q Bst fk6 house u dvertised for sals
tos t1S ~ How 6beuld you { How
nf6el M r. AyE6fa f3kaf - vt,rv ulothon