The Worthington advance. [volume] (Worthington, Minn.) 1874-1908, 1884-05-08
MISS MARTlNGALE'S KEEPSAKE.

MISS MARTlNGALE'S KEEPSAKE.
Though Miss Martingale's worldly
goods are no small total, as you might
guess from her comfortable little sitting
room, there is nothing among them all
that she would not willingly lose in pre-
ference to the insignificant looking piece
of cardboard lying ON her table before
her-a rusty old photograph Of once
young and manly original, who should
by this time (f the aged appearance of
his portrait be guide) have become
either old and not worth any lady's,
thoughts, or dead and forgotten by la
dies and gentlemen alike.
Miss Martingale was one Of the most
respectable and demure middle aged
spinsters that ever wore black silk.
Why should she be pouring over q
young mans face, and gazing into a
young mans eyes with an expression as
sentimental and love-lorn as if she, RI
diculous old maid, were school girl of
seventeen, and this the photograph of a
gallant Of twenty, her first lover, is
question only to be answered by one
very intimately acquainted with her. It
is fortunate for Miss Martingale that
certain charitable friends of hers are
not at this moment peeping over her
shoulder, scrutinizing with . view to
circumstantial' -idence the blotches
and strange loo.>inS dark marks by
which the face Of the photograph is
blurred.
But after all, who knows what sad
tale may be attached to Miss Martin
gales keepsake? Perhaps it is the one
remaining relic Of some departed broth
er, or perhaps of one nearer and dearer
still, wholooked upon Miss Martingale's
neatly braided hair before traces of sill
YER were discernible in it-possibly
kissed the pleasant features years ago,
before time had imprinted tender sor-
row lines upon them. Index are they
still to fond, soft heart; for, as Miss
Martingale folds up her keepsake in an
almost endless succession of yellow en-
relopes, and her eye lights on one with
the address in o masculine hand, "NIiss
NJ. Martingale, care of Mrs. Dormer,
Hatfield House Seminary, Wands-
worth, q warm veil suddenly obscures
her line of vision, and tear and sigh
fall together. Instead of snatching ont
her pocket handkerchief, and dashing
away the sentimental out
flow, as one might ex-
pect of strong minded lady of middle
age, Miss Martingale closes her be-
dewed eyelids and reclines her forehead
on the right hand, which is supported
by the table, and leans YEARLY back in
her chair, with her left hand hanging
listlessly, as if she is not strong minded
at all but weak and feminine, and quite
tired with sadness and bitter thoughts
The twilight OF the November even
ing fades into night. Deepening shad-
ows fall around the little room, STROUD
ing gradually the pictures on the wall,
the books in the corner, the pianoforte
and the music, the chintz covered sofa,
the Plaster Cupids and vases on the
mantelpiece, and the tall, brown old
clock, which has yellow moonface
peering stolidly down from near the
ceiling, looking as if it knows all about
the concern of the silent figure
at the table, and doesn't feel the
slightest sympathy, or mean
10. Indeed, this hard hearted old
brown clock knows almost as much about
the silent figures concerns as does the
silent figure itself, Notwithstanding that
the yellow moon-face, being intended
to instruct its beholders as to times
when the real moon displays herself to
the outside world, is condemned to
spend almost half of every month below
awooden curtain.
Years and years ago, this same dingy
white moon face looked down upon Mrs.
Martingale, when she wore coal scut-
tie bonnet and ringlets, when Pa and
Ma Martingale were accustomed to feel
relieved Mt the approach Of the day
which saw Miss Mary consigned to
Hatfield House Seminary for another
term.
This moon-face witnessed all the
holidays, and smiled, if one might ap-
ply such a verb to the impassiveness, on
all Miss Mary's select parties during
Christmas time.
There was more than that, however.
Later on it happened one night
to peep over the wooden cur
tain in the nick of time. Miss Mary was
in the arms of the Original himself ex-
actly one moment, and no more. After
the occurrence was suspicious acousti-
cal phenomenon, described only as
resembling the sound of moist snrfuces
meeting each other and parting with
a snatch, Miss Mary being moreover, in
a state of blushing confusion, and in the
act of exclaiming:
"Oh, Guy, declared"
Spite of which horrible dictum the
Original had then and there squeezed
Miss Mary's graceful shoulders 40 as
to completely crumdle her lace frill
and after staring into her eyes SO ardent
ly as to compel her to drop them, had
bent donw his face to hers, and produced
sec second edition of the phenomenon
even more startling than the first.
The look of injured surprise which
then dilated the moons eyes never left
them from that day. Not even when,
soon afterwards, Miss Mary hung sob
bling upon the Originals breast, un.
able to bid him God speed on his voyage
to India; not even when Miss Mary
cried again over her mothers funeral,
nor when the mourners tied Grape bands
around their hats in the room, and went
out to Pa Martingale's grave. The one
horrifying phenomenon steeled the
hearts of the mahogany witness to all
that might follow, down to this very
day, when fresh outburst of ridiculous
sentimentality marked the anniversary
regularly kept with sorrow and re-
grets through long, hopeless years-o1
the Originals departure.
By the time the silent figure at the