Shepherdstown register. [volume] (Shepherdstown, Va. [W. Va.]) 1849-1955, 1883-03-17
NUMBER FIFTEEN.

always begin ut the beginning when
| write story. Some authors like to
commence in the middle and work at both
ends; but that isn't my way, or rather it
wouldn't be my way if | was in the habit
of writing stories, which. thank heaven,
am not. get my living in respectable
way. but by the sweat of my brow. not by
writing lies for newspapers. Conse-
qucntly have but one story TO write, and
that j. my own.
My name Is Roderick McStivcrs, and |
am Il native Of the good old town of Tad
mouth; Pm 80 years old if Pm a day, and
if do say it, rs gooG looking for my age
us any man YOU ever set eyes on. Twenty
years ago | was fully as handsome as
am now, and ut that time was engaged t0
the charming Mary Black, the belle of
Tadmoulh. That was the beginning Of
all my woe-that engagement. | was
poor then Il own the largest boot manu-
factory in Falmouth to-day, and the
Lord only knew when should be able to
marry Mary. But she said she didn't
care she could wait two or three centuries
just as well as not, if I'd only be true TO
her meantime.
Sooner shall the blue ocean melt TO air.
Sooner shall earth resolve itself to sea,
Than resign thine image, OH, my fair
or think Of anything excepting thee.
That's just what said. You wouldn't
think, to look at me now, that | could say
anything quite 80 SOFT as the above
would you, eh? Bless you, | had more
poetry in my head twenty years ago than
yOu could shake Il stick at.
Many are poets who have never pennd
Their Inspirations, and perchance the best.
That's what's the trouble with me. II
| hadn't confined myself TO leather I
should nave played the deuce with "the
nine" Well, you understand from the
above that Mary and were All right. |
swore that III 5e true, and she dittOed;
but, bless you, my dear sir, the sweet
girl had a father, and he was not so young
as we were ~ several years.
Those were days when my heart was
volcanic, but the old gentleman's palpi-
tator was as hard and cold as 4 cast-iron
grindStone. The paternal Blacks cid not
believe much in love, you see.
He had married for money, aud in his
opinion that was :he only thing worth
marrying for; and 50, instead Of throw
ing his only child away on a miserable
vagabond like myself, he very unceremo-
niou.ly showed NE the door one evening,
and the very next day brought lover of
his own choosing home to Mary. The
lovers name was Bunsby, and he rolled
in gold, metaphorically speaking; owned
a fine house in New York, and had horses,
carriages and servants "too numerous to
mention" Oh, why ehould linger over
this period OF my existence. I'm sure l
don't know why, and hang me If 1 do.
You can guess the rest. Mary was daz-
zled with her new lovers wealth. She
forgot poor Roderick McStivers, and mar
ried Thomas Bunsby, Esq, and II, alas,
was not invited to the wedding! Any
thing more heartless than the above can
scarcely be imagined. ! suppose 1 might
have gone iEto mourning" They told
me couldn't be nun on account OF my
sex.
.'Oh, what shall do?'' / asked, in
voice that sounded horribly strange, not
withstanding thai it was my own. / defy
you TO tell me what did DO. In the light
Of my twenty years experience 1 am con-
vinced that did the best thing | could
under the circumstances. i married my
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