The Republican. [volume] (Oakland, Md.) 1877-current, 1884-12-13
Those Good Young Men.

| know l could get 1t II l had the
silks, or I've got a real maniac idea
about one. But, gracious me nobody
won't give you no scraps nowadays,
and as for huyin' 'em, could no
more afford it than ajec'. Pvego sew
ing silk enough. Samanthy Sprlggs.
the dress-maker that boarded here,
used to throw her ends of spoOls and
skeins into paper box, that she left
when she got married. Said might
have 'em, but 1 can't get pieces
Well, I've got to give it up, that's all,
though it would give me church
clothes this fall !"
Poor Miss Keziah was Il siad .olass
and poor, and her house was not well
furnished or her style elegant. Pro
fessor Vernon boarded with her out
of pure charity, for he might have
lived where he chose. But Miss
Keziah did her best to make him
comfortable. and he knew that, now
all the summer bOarderS had left her,
he stood between the little household
and starvation. There was little
hoy to be taken care of, Miss KeZiah'S
grand nephew, and the little house
stood on halfan acre ofground, which
bore nothing but old-fashioned fiow-
ers and an ancient grape vine that
gave promise of plenty every sum-
mer, but was given over to evil
minded worms long before autumn
came.
The professor set eating his break
fast as the old lady talked, and, be-
ing a kind hearted fellow, with a real
friendship for the poor old woman,
he paid attention to every word she
said.
"Things do happen better than we
expect, Miss Keziah," !" he said. per
haps you might manage to do it,
after ALL"
But poor old Keziah shook her
head, and he saw her wipe away a
tear with the corner of her apron as
she turned away, and it occurred to
him that men had accomplished much
more hopeless things than the pro
curing of bits of silk for crazy-quilt.
A woman would have known that
they could be bought, but he, being
a man, did not know how or where
a number of small pieces of various
colors might be procured. He knew
enough of crazy-quilts to see that
these were necessary, and he ponder
ed long and deeply. Finally, he
went to his room and brought down
two cravats, blue and a pearl color,
and laid them on the old lady's
apron, as she sat shelling peas on the
doorstep.
"WouId that sort Of silk dc? ?" he
asked. "YOu can have these"
"Oh how lovely !" said Hiss Ke-
ziah. "Just perfect; but don't you
deprive yourself? No! Well, thank
you. I'll get bit of black, and start
sort of pretend to myself I'll hey
more any way"
And the professor. with a smile,
caught up his hat and started for the
college. On the way he purchased a
box of delicate note paper and enveI-
opes, and in cosy den of his own at
the college sat down and composed
the following billet:
81 must, of course, conceal my
name and give you no clue to my
identity. You will see that when
you have read what l am about to
write.
81 am young lady of II, belong.
ing to family of high social position; ;
and may say, since you do not know
me, that l am not only rich but
handsome. | have had many offers,
but since I have seen you l can think
of no one else. Your appearance,
your manner, the intelligence of your
countenance. all thrill my very soul,
and I think Of you night and day.
at is foolish, perhaps, but l long
for something you have worn to
treasure next my heart, as miser
treasures his gold. You wore on one
occasion cravat of a delicate tint
that became you well. Will you send
me that? You cannot dream what
it will be to have it for my own-my
very own. Yours-eyer unknown,
but ever loving.
"LEoNIE."
address L., Postoffice."
Having manifolded this letter, the
professor addressed one to every stu
dent in the college and arranged for
their delivery, and awaited results.
They were satisfactory. A flush of
tickled vanity rested on the cheek of
every youth under the academic roof
that day. The bait was swallowed.
The little boy who was employed
for the purpose brought a bagful of
envelopes to the professor each even
inp for thran davS Hn Ononad fhoDo