Oxford Democrat. [volume] (Paris, Me.) 1833-1933, 1882-12-05

much time here already"
"Oh, l can go perfectly well. shall
lose nothing but painting lesson
THANK you you have saved me Of q
great inconvenience. hope when /
meet with an accident on the cars it may
happen on one Of your days for going to
town"
The words were not much, but he
held out his hand and shook mine so
warmly that he brought the baby in i'm.
minent peril Of falling and l used her TO
hide my face, which would redden with
out any reason.
When he had placed US all comforta-
bly, in the carriage, the Quakeress said to
him:
Friend, | should be glad to know
thy name and the place where thou doest
business, if, peradventure, | may ever re-
pay thy kindness"
at is nothing, l only did as was
told. Your thanks are due to the lady"
may, but tell me thine address" she
gently persisted.
He looked at me and not at the Quak.
eress, as he said 81:
my name is John Gordon, and my
place is at 2l0, F-street."
With many injunctions to the coach
man to drive carefully, he left US.
When We reached the little cottage
where the mother of the Quakeress lived
| was so warmly welcomed and so hos
pitably entreated that | went in and
spent most Of the day.
Even the baby relented toward me,
under the sunny influence of her grand
mother and we became moderate friends.
| actually grew to love those people
on an acquaintance Of few hOurs.
Have l said before that my listener al
ready was not precisely as other men in
my eyes: He was very tall, fully six
feet if not fraction over, with shoul-
der broad enough for any burden. He
was little clumsy withal, as if his body
had somewhat outgrown his conscious
ness of it: and like all giants, he was
very good natured. Every line in his
face showed that the world had wsgged
to his liking through life.
1t is your little wiry men who have
always chronic discontents and grievan-
ces to redress, never the big, burly ones.
l suppose had already given a vast
deal more thoughts to him and his ways
than he had to mine. 1t is always so
with women. the balance in such mat
ters leans on them.
| rebuke with scorn the assertion that
girls think Of nothing but men and mar
risge. though the structure Of society
really gives them little else to think Of;
but willingly admit that, when they
are forming their opinion Of any strange
young man they do consider whether, if
it was their fate to marry him, they
could be resigned to it or not.
l had not by any means reached this
point with my listener but l was ap-
it. l looked forward with
some eagerness to my next journey city
ward. | thought he would certainly
come and speak to me after our expert
ence with the Quakeress.
He was in the cars as usual, but
lady sat beside him to whom he was very
attentive, and they walked up town TO-
gether.
Then it dawned upon me for the first
time that he might be married after all,
and my suspicion Of his interest in me
might prove only a vain Imagination.
1t was wet, dreary day, and l sup
pose people take cold easily when their
spirits are low for l went home at night
shivering, and was not permitted to re-
sumo my journeys till the end Of fort
night, when l found Mr.. Gordon on the
platform looking about anxiously.
81 am glad to see you." he said. TAX
ing my hand cordially. l had begun to
think that Quaker baby had been too
much for you. And you have been i'll !;
you are pale now"
thought Of the lady whom had seen
with him, and replied very quietly to his
greeting. He sat down beside me, and
took a little parcel from his pocket.
"See," he said, our patient has sent
US something to remember her BY, and
here is note you may read If you
like"
This was the note:
FRIEND JOHN GoRDoN-If ! was rich
in worlds gear would try to repay the
kindness to me when l was in great need,
but will only send thee little book
to remind thee sometimes of me. Ihave
LET slin from nv memory the surname OF