The Kenosha telegraph. [volume] (Kenosha, Wis.) 1860-1888, 1885-05-15
THE LAWYERS WARD.
A Runaway Couple from PhiIa.
delphia.


Rev. DR.. Melton was just beginning
to feel at home in his new parsonage
when he was surprised one evening to
receive a call from his classmate Harry
Leigh. In college days they had been
friends, and for awhile after their grad
uation they had exchanged letters and
visits; but the letters and visits had
come to an end long ago, and it was
many years since they had met AS
they sat in the book-lined study, each
eyed the ether curiously. Years sat
lightly upon Mr.. Leigh, and he was
dressed fashionably, almost youthfully.
In his dark-red neck-scarf was thrust a
gold dogs head with ruby eyes, and to
the parson the scarf and the dogs head
suggested a sporting character. He
knew that Mr.. Leigh was not sporting
character, and wondered mildly that a
highly respectable, prosperous. middle
aged lawyer should thus adorn his per-
son. Moreover, Mr.. Leigh had brought
into the study tall silk hat and dap
per little walking stick, and these he
held as though they were far too
precious to be laid on an unsympathetic
chair. He chung to them until the par
son was filled with an unchristian de-
sire to throw them out of the window;
but instead, he broke off in the middle
of sentence, took hat and stick from
his guest and carried them to the new
so-called Queen Anne rack in the hall
There he left them, together with the
engraved card that had announced Mr.
Leigh's presence in the house.
Mr.. Leigh, in the minute that he was
alone, smiled, and the smile had in it o
touch of plying condescension. and
when the parson re-entered the study
his guest scanned him leisurely. He
saw tall, loose-limbed, awkward man,
clad in black broadcloth of country cut,
with low vest that displayed liberal
eXpanse of spotless linen. DR.. Melton s
slippers were little the worse for wear,
but he knew that his daughter won d
surprise him at Christmas with q new
pair, and meanwhile the old ones were
comfortable. His collar and cravat
were neat, albeit not fashionable, and
they were well hidden by a flowing
gray beard that had more white hairs
in it than there were in his mustache.
From under his broad forehead a pair
of contemplative blue eyes looked at
the world with mingled shrewdness and
kindness, and they rested on his guest
with sort of comical surprise. He
thought Mr.. Leigh rather foppish in his
dress, and Mr.. Leigh hoped that the
country parson would soon be intro
duce1 to New York tailor, and taught
town ways by some of the deacons in
the church to which he had been called
upon to minister.
"Well," he said, land how do you
fancy the idea of becoming a metropol-
itan preacher, and seeing your sermon
garbled in Monday mornings paperp"
"The papers didn't garble my sermon
this week." the doctor said. ''On the
contrary, the reporters p cked out the
best and overlooked the worst in the
kndest and most hattering fashion"
Mr. Leigh laughed. You won't be
so amiable to reporters when you know
them better. This is quite change
from your old life, and an agreeable
change, no doubt. Or do you believe
that God made the country and man
made the town?n
a believe God made them both, and
man tries his best to spoil both" the
parson answered.
"Ah, chats neat-very neat. Blythe
way, | ought to call you doctor. Tread
your book on the Atonement with q
good deal of pleasure. The parson
WINGED, but MIR. Leigh did not observe
that. II don't wonder the college
doctored you for 1t, though your ideas
must seem rather liberal to the musty
old fogies who peddle out Latin and
Greek and theology"
81 came near being one of the musty
old fogies myself" said DR.. Melton.
They wanted me to be professor,
but l prefer to be parson"
"A city parson,n said his guest.
II am not so sure about the city
part" DR., Melton said slowly. lit
was peasant up there in the country;
was attached to my people; l liked to
potter about in my garden. l was
astonished when / received II call from
New York. don't know that / would
have accepted it if one of my deacons
had not had q promising son ready to
Gil my place, and l think that my con-
gregation rather liked the idea of q
young dominic. l had about come to
the conclusion that I should live and
die a country parson; but here 1 am"
with six thousand dollars year
and a comfortable house." added Mr..
Leigh.
The parson frowned. "a man with
four children has no right to slight a
chance of lettering his fortune; but it
was not the money that brought me to
New York. There is work here" He
broke off suddenly, perhaps because he
saw the shadow of a sheer on Mr.
Leigh's lips. 'And you are still living
in Philadelphiapn he asked.
eyes, indeed; l would not live any,
where else. New Workers may turn up
their noses and call it a village, but
Philadelphia suits people who belong to
the old Quaker stock. =
Quaker! You haven't turned
trlenu! Ihe parSon eye lit on tue
glittering scarf-pin ''You used to be
an Episcopalian when we were in coll
lege!"
Il am yet " said Mr.. Leigh; but my
ancestors were Quakers sort of cous-
ins of old Penn, you know
''You have a son, believe, to perpet-
uate the nameP'' the parson remarked,
dryly.
lone son---an only child. Morton is
twenty-four, and reading law in my
Office, A brighs fellow, too; never gives
me moments uneasiness; always at
work: steady-going: no boyish nonsense
about him.
'Twenty-four," the parson repeated,
"and no boyish nonsense about himp
There is good deal of nonsense about
my boys, ! am Lap sorry 10 say. Still
! hope they won't disgrace me. Their
mother thinks they are all right, and I