The Brookhaven leader. [volume] (Brookhaven, Miss.) 1883-1891, 1883-04-12
Peterkin's Suit.

Some twenty years ago. do not
know how many exactly, but it was
some time during the war-I heard q
story which soldier was reading in a
newspaper to a little group around him,
to their great enjoyment. l shall tell
it only in brief, though, I remember
well, the filing in was a good part of
it, which will be missing in my re-
cital.
Mr.. S. G. Peterkin was a prosperous
youngish man of business who got
ahead in spite of his constitutional
modesty. This was in his way in So
ciety more than in trade; he was afraid
of women more than men. For long,
long time he had set his heart upon
lovely young lady, whose sweetness
was like her name, which was Violet.
H. had often called upon her, and re-
solved again and again that he would
make her an offer of his heart and hand,
out as often that heart failed him.
Through the whole of the evening he
would sit and
"Gaze upon her as a star
Whose purity and distance made it fair,
and come away without making any
progress in his suit. At last he became
alarmed by the fact that the dashing
Captain Latham, of one of the Sound
steamers, was often at the house when
he called to see his charmer, the charm
ne Violet. At last he could not bear
;he suspense any longer, and he vent
ared, with much hesitancy and awk-
wardness, but with do-or-die determine
tion, to ask her if she would be his.
With remarkable GOODNESS, she replied:
"You should have spoken long ago,
Mr.. Peterkin; have been engaged to
Captain Latham for some time past,
and we are to be married very shortly.
am sorry to disappoint you, but we
will be as good friends as ever, and you
must come to see me just the same.
The Captain will always be glad to have
your company"
Peterkin went away sorrowful. But
brighter day soon dawned, for within
three months after they were married,
the Captain fell off the steamer in fog
on the Sound and was drowned. Now
Peterkin took heart. He would have
the widow.
Ayear of mourning wore slowly away.
He kept his eye on the widow, but
would not insult the memory of the
dead by proposing until decent inter
val had passed. The year ended, and
he laid his heart again at the little feet
of Violet. She heard him quietly, and
quietly remarked: "My dear Peterkin,
am sorry to disappoint you again, but
for the last six months have been en-
gagged to DIR. Jones. 1t was hard to
make up my mind between him and his
fyin /
but DIR. Jones was so good to me while
l was sick in the winter after my hus-
bands death, that l promised him l
would be his at the end of the year.
So poor Peterkin retired once more;
the widow Latham became Mrs. DR..
Jones, and so remained, while the dis
comfited Peterkin wished the doctor
might take enough of his own pills to
make an end of him.
Time passed on. Peterkin was walk
ing down Broadway one day, while not
very far ahead of him he saw two men,
one of whom he knew to be this hated
DIR. Jones. A large fiat stone was be-
ing hOisted to the coping of new build
ing; the rope gave way; it fell and in
stantly killed the two men. Peterkin
rose to the emergency of the moment.
For the dead he could be of no avail
His thoughts were on the widow. He
turned; he ran, he flew, to her abode.
When she entered the room where he
awaited her he began:
''My dear Mrs. Jones, / bring you
dreadful news. ] was walking ON the
street, when | saw stone fall from a
house upon your poor husband, and he
is dead; but you must let me comfort
you. beg you now. to be mine, my
Violet, at last"
'Dear Mr.. Peterkin, l am so sorry!
but when DIR. Jones and Mr. Bright
were both begging me to marry, took
the doctor, and promised Mr.. Bright, if
anything happened to Jones, would
certainly be his. So you see l am en-
gagged. l am sorry, for do think a
great deal of you, my dear Peterkin."
Peterkin was very calm and self-con-
tanned. He said: "And will you prom
ise to be mine when that lawyer is no
more?"
Certainly will, with all my heart
and soul.'
''Then come to my arms, my Violet,
for the same stone that killed the doctor
was the death of Bright, and you are
mine at last.-Harper's Magazine.