Alpena weekly argus. [volume] (Alpena, Mich.) 1871-1893, 1883-09-26
A PROFESSORS STORY.

"A IhOfEoSUho SIVnIs
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 he surprised me with
the 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, he said, that
our chair of astronomy remained vacant.
You knew Of DIR. Merdon. 1t was justly
that the world finally gave him fame.
Well, after his death the trustees were at
a loss to fill his place. A weak man
would have been insufierable there.
Do you remember his family2 Charm
ing wife and daughter. They spent
several years abroad after his death, and
when they returned, notwithstanding
that the widow still wore mourning, the
number of our little social events was
doubled. The daughter had a string of
young millionaires after her constantly.
Female society, perhaps you know, wasn't
unlimited, and it was with foundation
Of truth that the fellows grimly joked
about calling on the girl their fathers
had courted before them. Charlotte
Merdon was as fascinating a girl as her
mother had been, so said the old folks,
and it was TO her that young Prof. Lutz
quoted from Horace: "Oh, daughter,
more beautiful than thy beautiful
motherw when he brought down on him
self the ridicule of the mountain-day
party. Yes, she could have had her pick
from dozen 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 Charlie Eliott's set.
Elliott 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 Presidents party, Brent
Seymour. He was senior the year before,
and taking post graduate study at the
observatory Merdon had built shortly
before his dcath-a town boy, who sup
ported his mother and worked his way
through college, not often seen in society,
and his ill-ftting clothes and embarrassed
manner attested il. Elliott, looking
about the room for a subject for his next
brilliant 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'll be a
deuce of a 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.
1t was not unlike the tablcau of the beg
gar and the princess. Her easy attitude
Contrasted strangely with his painful
awkwardness. Elliott had not miscal-
culated. The effect was immediate. All
eyes we're turned toward the couple, and
smile went around.
Charlotte Merdon saw it, and her
cheeks famed. She had OWNED the
heartlcss joke. To the surprise of those
about her she begged Seymour to be
seated-insisted that he should be seated.
Then she tried to draw him into converse
ton. BUTT wasimpossible; embarrassment
seemed to have driven his wits away.
Only one remark he ventured; glancing
at portrait on the wall, he stammered
out: "Thats good picture of the Presi-
dent" The portrait was one taken thirty
years before, and was anything but a
good likeness of the President as he then
appeared. The unfortunate remark
caused another smile. Eliott; was de-
lighted-his joke was splendid success.
Poor Seymour twisted about in his chair
and hung his head; his discontinue was
complete.
Miss Merdon took deliberate look at
the picture, and did not smile. EYES,"
she said, sit is called very good like.
ness of him just after graduation. Have
you seen the Presidents flowers, Mr. Sey.
mourn Let me show them to YOU"
Rising, and excusing herself, she led
the young man into the greenhouse ad.
joining the parlor.
"The dickensl" said Elliott, 81 didn',
look for anything like that"
Seymour, rescued in this way from hi.
trying ordeal, hardly knew what to do OF
say. He felt as if milestone had beer
taken from his neck. The pain and the
manner of relief worked strangely on hi,
sensitive nature. He felt that he was in
great debt to his companion. He wanted tc
kiss the hem of her garment. He wanted
to cry. He knew he was feeling and
acting like fool. He expected that hi
should make a greater fool of himself
than in the parlor. But some way hi
didn't care. He had lost all fear of the
beautiful girl. Her act of mercy hao
brought her nearer than years of &C
quaintance could. He talked rapidly Of
the flowers, for he knew of them, and
Charlotte listencd-listened wondering
why she cared TO listen, little thinkins
that her sympathy had brought the awk
ward student nearer than he would have
been had she known him half her life
time and never seen him in pain. 81
when he pointed out to her the observa
tory where he worked, the queerly
shaped building that showered its dari
outlines in the moonlight, Just over the
campus on the hill, she wondered wha,
it was that prompted her TO beg him to
csSe her there, to exact n promise from
him that, on the very next evening, hi
would conduct her through the building
that had been built after her fathers or
ders. She persuaded herself that IL wa
desire TO see manuscripts Of her father
which seymour told her had been LEFT
there. Perhaps il was.
Notwithstanding her mothers mild
remonstrance, the next evening found
her with Brent Seymour in the telescop,
room Of the observatory. The roof had
beer LEI down and she wss watching the
staIk