The Somerset reporter. [volume] (Skowhegan, Me.) 1868-1909, 1885-08-12
Selected.
CATCHING Il BACHELOR.

"Wel, our business is over, Philip, and
odd enough 1t seems to me to be doing
business with you like this. Why the last
time saw you, at Dykeside, we were at
a school picnic, and you wanted to fight
with me because Carrie Clay walked up
the hills with me instead of you. Don't
you remember"
Philip Joyce nodded.
Dick Barry was laughing as he spoke,
but seeing the grave face of his friend, his
own grew grave also.
"Thirty years ago." he said with sigh.
The paneed office wall expanded as he
spoke, before their eyes. In place OF the
rich carpets, handsome desks and easy
chairs, they both saw green wood on the
hill side In the flush and beauty of glorious
June. For the costly pictures on the wall
they had green and pleasant view of near
fields anu pastures and the distant village
where they were born. Instead of the
busy roar and rush of Wall street, the
song of birds, the gentle lowing of the
cattle and the murmur of the woodland
were In their ears. And first aud foremost
In the merry crowd OF boys and girls
around them was the graceful figure and
lovely face of gentle Carrie Clay, the first
love of both.
Alas the deep blue eyes had closed In
death nearly thirty years ago, and nothing
remained of Carrie, in this world, except
short green mound in the village church
yard, and the stone that bore her name.
"Poor Carried" said Dick at last, "what
glorious oman she would have made If
she had lived"
"She would have been your wife, Dick,
to-day" said his friend sadly.
DiCK started.
my wife! why, don't know. railways
struck me that she liked you best, after all.
My wife! Carrie Clay! How odd 1t sounds.
| wonder f-hut what am | thinking of? l
have wife already"
"Have your"
"Certainy, didn't you know IT."
"No."
~ have. Come out to my little cottage
and see her, Philip.
"Thanks, but L"
"Oh, shall take no excuse. You must
come, and tonight. l know you have no
other engagement"
"That is true. But what will your wife
say if yol take stranger home with you
without giving her warnipg?"
'Say she Is glad to see him, OF COURSE"
replied Dick beginning to hustle about
with his preparations for home.
His friend watched him III silence.
"Why don'C you marry, Philip" asked
Philip shrugged his shoulders.
"I've seen too much of married life."
"Whcre, for goodness sake?"
SIN the houses of my acquaintances, and
In the divorce columns of the papers"
"Fudae!" replied Dick.
He said no more till they were on board
the steamer for Staten Island.
Then he renewed the subject.
you'll never be happy till you do marry
my boy"
Philip turned suddenly upon him.
"Cck, are you happy"
"lndeed l am"
clap pier than you were Us bacnelorf
"Ten thousand times"
"Do you love your wife stille" asked
Philip, dropping his voice, although they
stood near the end OF the boat alone
"Stll, you great muff, why shouldn't ?"
said Dick laughing.
"You don't answer my question. And
I've talked with other men, and heard
many of them talk. firmly believe that
nineteen out of twenty among you would
be unmarried tomorrow, ii you could be-
Dicks eyes flashed fire.
He was going to answer holly, when
sudden thought struck him. He only
smiled and lit a cigar.
GLOW long have you been married,
Dick?" continued his tormentor.
"Wait till you see my wife, then guess
was the reply.
And Dick would say no more.
When the boat reached the wharf, DICK
led his friend through the line of pretty
carriages that awaited the passengers, and
turned into barrow road that led directly
into the green country.
81 am not rich vet, only comfortable"
he said "And 20 Mary does without a
carriage, and gets her exercise by rambling
round on foot My house is only cottage
but we are very happy there.
They walked nearly mile. Then' Just
before them they saw green ana lever
field. whose stoue wall was bordered with
grapevines and shaded by half grown trees
In the centre of this field stood an old-iash.
Toned cottage, of the square ''packing-box
kind. 1t was painted cream color, and had
a long, low porch, running completely
round the lower story. The pillars OF this
porch were Overrun with creepers, which
climbed BY the aid Of the green blinds, on
the upper story, till they could look in at
the open windows In triumph.
Doors and windows all stood wide open
to the sweet summer air. On the smooth
green lawn stood two easy chairs with
small work stand between them. FRI m
one of the lower rooms came the sound of
a piano, and q woman's sweet voice sing
ing:
"what's a the steer, Kimmcr,
What'sa' the steer p
jamie he has landed
And soon he will be here |"
At the sound Of the gate clicking In It's
Ink thu muaio oAaaad.