The Baltimore County union. [volume] (Towsontown, Md.) 1865-1909, 1882-01-14
A MAN THAT SUCCEEDED.

"My only daughter, SIR" said Colo
mel Monteagle. "And, as | venture to
hope, accomplished in her way. We
are NOT much in the way Of schools or
academies here, but have been her in
structor myself, 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 devotes her evening
to comprehensive reviews Of her Latin
and Greek. She will be a 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
bald forehead, eagle eye and delicately-
white hands and the dark-browed, sui
len-looking girl, with gypsy skin, un-
tidyfrock- aud patched boots.
Pretty9 Yes, she might be pretty
under some circumstances. The dia-
mond itself is not an attractive stone
before the lapidary's art has polished its
rude angles into gli,tering facets of white
fire. But she certainly possessed no
sweet, feminine graces now.
Chow old are you, Miss Monteaglc9"
he asked, finding it imperatively neces-
sary to say something.
And Mary Monteagle answered in
words, Seventeen" while her looks
replied, plainly, "None of your busi-
ness -
go, my child, and gather some
flowers to deck our humble board" said
the old gentleman, magniloquently,
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 decay gentility told the sad
story of better days.
Mrs. Monteagle, who had been a
beauty once, and had her portrait en-
graved in a Gallery Of American Rose
buds" was sitting up in state in bat
tered boudoir, in 4 black silk dress that
must have been quite quarter Of CEN
tury old, with flower in her silver
sprinkled hair, and, still preserving the
girlish attitude in which the engraver' S
pencil had immortalized her, oddly con-
trasting with the sharpened outlines and
haggard abruptness 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 con-
tentedly 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 guest and touched the little hand
bell at her side.
"we will dine, Sarepta." she said to
the maid.
"Please, ma am" brea:hlessly utter
ed that young person, "there amt
nothin' for dinner. We cat the last of
cold beef yesterday, and the dog he
tipped over the pan Of oysters, and"
"That will do, Sarepta," said Mrs.
Monteagle, with a red spot mounting
to each Of her cheek-bones, 81 said
we will dine %
And Sarepta Withdrew jerk.
The dinner was served presently-and
instance Of the magnetic power Of will
but there was no cold beef, neither
were there oysters. Fruit, athin, watcry
soup Of herbs and parsley, tastefully
garnished salad Of lettuce and mayon-
naise, and dish Of peaches and cream
formed that meal.
"Quite Arcadian |" said Mrs. Mon
teagle, with giggle.
"And very badly served" secretly
commented Mr.. Crofton to himself
"But the salad was NICE
"Where is Nary 2" the colonel asked.
drinking in the beauties Of the sun
set, / presume" the lady answered,
airily. "Thc 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, inward
ly bewailing himself that he had promis-
ed to stay a week at Monteagle Manor,
sauntered out upon the heights which
overlooked the valley below.
As he stood there, riistling sounded