Iron County register. [volume] (Ironton, Iron County, Mo.) 1867-1965, 1882-08-10
wonder, has not been whispered around


cussed under the 'sdim, religious light
| of the one lantern which hangs from the
| dusty rafters in the store.
put aside nv book, and say -rashlv
before l have really decided to tell
Mrs. Bragdon, did you ever know
what broke off the engagement between
Miss Matilda Jane Snow and the min
| ister?n
The sudden frightening of Mrs. Drag
don's face is something amazing. She
drops her knitting work at once and
clasps her hands in touching attitude
of expectation. ''No; l couldn't never
find out for certain. Everybody thought
twas proper strange, after they'd beer
goin' together for so long. Marshy, the
girl tibet used to work over to the
Shows, told me tibet they set up togeth
er good many nights, m he used tel
bring her peppermints and religion:
books with his m her names writ in 'em
But, Lor'! Matildy Jane hez always
bin hevin' beau, ever sence she left of
pantalettes. Once twas the school
master tibet come from over Bonny Big
way. Folks said they was a-goin' to git
merried right away, m then he disap-
peared like thief in the night, N
weren't never seen in these parts eny
more. Nobody knew jest why that
didn't come to nothin' but I heard
tibet Matildy Jane said (you know she's
real active professor) tibet she
shouldn't feel herself justified in hevin'
a man tibet didn't enjoy gospel priv
leges no more'n he did. Then twas
Deacon Thompson, when he was a
widderer. He used to 60 over m sing
hymns with Matildy Jane most every
evenin', IN she baked up a lot O. plum
cake m cup-custards m invited him
over to take tea, m was partial to his
little girl July in her Sunday school
class, m he took her to ride over to
Sandy Pint graveyard, where his fust
wife was buried. But that didn't come
to nothin' neither. They were both ov
'em tempery, m fell out about suthin'.
Matildy Jane hain't no beauty, but
she's good housekeeper, m a fust-rate
good woman, though she may be a trifie
sOt. All the Shows is sot. l know 'em
root m branch, m eff they kent hev
their own way they're dretful liable to
fire up. This siick-lookin' minister,
Parson Whitcomb, wanted her fur her
money, they say. He was younger'n
she, m a picter of man, with red
cheeks m curly hair. But, Lor'! she
hain't got much money; she let that
good -fur-nothin' brother ov hers waste
a good pile that belonged to her on his
eddication. He was lazy soul, but was
called, as he said, to be a missionary;
m eff he kin make himself agreeable to
the heather, 1 'spose it's as we'll as
he could do. His rooms better'n his
company here" Mrs. Bragdon pauses
quite out of breath, and regards me with
earnest appeal.
81 can tell you why she didn't marry
the Minister say /, with the true air
of profound mystery and deep impor-
lance which is characteristic of the real
Bramleigh gossip.
She gives great start, removes the
spectacles from her well-polished fore.
head, draws her chair several inches
nearer my own, allows the cat to play
with the ball of knitting-work with the
most reckless indifference, and exclaims,
"You don't say!" in tone of mingled
suspense and rapture.
Whereupon, after the usual prelimi-
naries, the exhortation to eternal secre-
cy, the hesitations and deliberations
which, somehow, seems to heighten the
enjoyment of the expectant listener,
l begin my tale:
"The first year 1 visited Bramleigh,
1 used to go and see Miss Matilda Jane
very often, you know. l went past her
house on my way to Morrill's meadow,
where the orchids grow, and, stopping
at the gate to admire her flowers one
day, she came out and presented me
with a lovely little bouquet of. spice
pinks and lavender. Then, one day
when was heated with my long walk,
she invited me into the house to have
glass of her raspberry-shrub, and I
accepted the invitation with pleasure,
for it looked very cool and inviting
inside the wide, breezy old hall.
"Good gracious!' said Miss Matilda
Jane, Il shouldn't never get my breath
again if 1 walked as far as Morrill's
meadow. wish you'd always drop in
here m rest awhile whenever you take
strangers that my eyes fairly ache for
the sight o. one, and, when have time
to be, I'm dreadfully lonesome
$50 sat with her some time, trying
to make myself agreeable; but, as the
aware of it at the time, we did not get
on very well at first"
"Deef as a post-deef as the back
side O. the meetin'-house o week-days,n
assents my listener, warmly.
'But called again and again, and
after while we became very good
friends. liked the quaint old house,
with its large, low-ceiled rooms, the
huge fireplace filled with evergreen
boughs, the old-fashioned furniture and
ornaments brought from over sea by
the house-plants in the
wide window-seats, and the scriptural
titles in the chimney-piece. Then the
Manx cat and the parrot were sources
of unfailing amusement.
"Didn't you never see the parson-
Matilda James beau-when you was
there?'' asked Mrs. Bragdon, breath
lessly impatient for the denouem,ent of
the story.
"Why, yes; I'm coming to that pres
entity" say I, with wicked deliberation,
as stroke the back of the tortoise-shell
cat, who has seated herself in my lap
and is basking delightedly in the warm
glow of the fire.
"Her father, old Cap'n John, didn't