Shepherdstown register. [volume] (Shepherdstown, Va. [W. Va.]) 1849-1955, 1883-04-28
THE PROFESSORS STORY.

Taking tea the other evening with an
old acquaintance, now professor in
New England college, the conversation
recalled some of the friends Of our
Younger days, and lie surprised me with
this remark: "A woman's sympathies lie
nearer her heart than her love, unless her
love is born Of them" But he surprised
me more by the story he told to prove It.
guess it was seven years, lie said, that
our chair of astronomy remained vacant.
You know Of DR.. Mcrdon. Ii was justly
that the world finally gave him fame.
Well, after his death the trustees were 1T
a loss to fill his place. A weak man would
have been insullerable there.
DO you remember his family? Charm
ing wife and daughter. They spent sew
eral years abroad, after his death, and
when they returned, notwithstanding
that the widow still wore mourning, the
number of our little social events were
doubled. The daughter had string OF
young millionaires after her constantly.
Female society, perhaps you know, wasn't
unlimited, and i: was with foundation
of truth that the fellows grimly joked
about calling on the girls their fathers
haG courted before them. Charlotte Mer-
don was AS fascinating a girl as her
mother had been, SO said the old folks,
and it was to her that young Professor
Lutz quoted from Horace, "Oh, daughter
more beautiful than thy beautiful moth
er - when he brought down on himself
the ridicule of the mountain-Gay party.
Yes, she could have had her pick from q
dozen of very rich boys, and think she
would have taken it, too, if she hadn t
discovered that her mother was trying to
influence her in their favor.
At the senior party that year Charlotte
held her court, as she did everywhere.
She was surrounded, | remember, by the
rich fellows of Charley Elliott's set. Ell
lott was happy that night. Charlotte had
been unusually gracious, and her mother
had made her favor clearer than ever.
Over near the door sat the last man to
be expected at seniors party, Brent
Seymour lie was senior the year before,
and taking postgraduate study at tie OBJ
seryatory Merdon had built short time
before his deash, town boy, who sup
ported his mother and worked his way
through college, not often seen in society,
and his ill-titting clothes and embarrassed
manner attested it, Elliott, looking about
the room for a subject for his next bril-
liant remark TO Miss Merdon, caught sight
Of him.
"Ed," said he, turning to his chum, 81
tell you what will be great sport. Bring
Seymour up and formally present him to
Miss Merdon. 1t will confuse him. He
won't know what TO do, and there'u be q
duce OF scene"
The chum complied, and In moment
had the reluctant Seymour by the arm.
The scene that followed must have been
all that Elliott desired. For moment
the poor student stood before the belle. IL
was not unlike the ta5lcau of the beggar
and the princess. Her easy attitude con-
trasted strangely with his painful awk-
wardness. Elliott had not miscalcuated.
The effect was immediate. All eyes were
turned towards the couple, and smile
went round.
Charlotte Merdon saw it, and her
checks famed. She had OWNED the
heartless joke. TO the surprise of those
about her she begged Seymour TO be seat
ed-insisted that he should be seated.
Then she turned to draw him into con-
versation. But it was impossible. En-
barraesment seemed TO have driven his
wits away. Only one remark he ventured.
Glancing at a portrait on the wall he
stammered out, That's good picture Of
the president" The portrait was one
taken thirty years ago, and was anything
but a good likeness Of the president as be
then appeared. The unfortunate remark
caused another smile. Elliott was de-
lighted His joke was a splendid success.
Poor Seymour twisted about in his chair
and hung his head. His discontinue was
complete.
Miss Merdon took a deliberate look at
the picture, and did no. emile. "Yes,"
she said, sit is called very good likeness
of him just after graduation. Have you
seen the presidents flowers, Mr.. Sey-
modr? Let me show them to you"
Rising and e1cusing herself, she led the
young man into the green house, sdjoin-
ing the parlor.
''The deuce" said Elliott. "I didn't
look for anything like that"
Seymour, rescued in this way from his
trying erdeal, hardly knew what 10 do or
say. He felt as if milestone had been
taken from his neck. The pain and NAH
rer of relief worked strangely on his SEN
sitive nature. He felt that he was 10 great
debt to his companion. He wanted TO cry.
He knew that he was feeling and acting
like fool. He expected that he should
make greater fool of himself than in the
parlor. But some way he didn't care.
He had lost all fear Of the beautiful girl.
Her act OF mercy had brought her nearer
than years Of acquaintance could. He
talked rapidly of the flowers, for he knew