The Republican. [volume] (Oakland, Md.) 1877-current, 1885-09-12

that can perfect it by one study from real
life. Mr.. Chaplin is just tho one | want for
you say he is so Indifferent to the ladies'. It
would be so delicious to see how he would
act if somebody succeeded in charming him,
Any Of the boys can gush. My hero musb
not gush. Don't tell him said it, now Uncle
Tom. really don't want him myself-he's
too old and grizzly. But he's awful nice
you said so yourself-nice enough for any.
body. You will know best how to manage
it. I've been good since January and all the
college boys, VIII says, are inconsolable |
cIalm TINS as my reward. Yours, affection.
tlonately, KATE CARNEY.
Well Uncle Tom managed it. How,
I'm not going to tell; it is too long
But certainly not to help his wards
matchmaking procliyities.
1t was the evening before graduation.
The beautiful grove around the E.
Seminary was all a-hutter with the
light draperies of the girls whose exami-
nations were over, and who awaited the
closing exercises before returning to
their distant homes. Many guests were
there besides, and the bright clear
northern skies looked down with pro.
pitious smiles upon the little city. As
Miss Chesterfield, for the last time that
summer, gave well-thumbcd copy of
Virgil a little shove into its place on the
bookshelf she saw, without interest,
two strangers, tall and military, pace
up the building, ring, and pass leisurely
in.
Captain Carney was perfectly noncha-
liant under the artillery of the bright
eyes that regarded them. But Mr.
Chaplin, looking slightly annoyed,
turned neither to the right nor to the
left, and, as they entered the parlors
after sending up their cards, twisting
his iron-gray muStache in an absent
way, he remarked:
Captain, there is something pain.
fully suggestive of other days to me in
all this tlutter and hustle of commence
ment. They touch me sadly. The
odor Of the roses, the mignonette, the
sYrngas, and the abundance of these
'bleeding-hearts' almost Sufiiocate me.
| always feel as if a funeral procession
of dead hopes, with none left living to
mourn them, were passing before me,
and each broken heart had flung
flower on the collins"
Quite poetical, almost tragic"
began Captain Carney, but Kate sprang
in all glowing with breathless antcipa-
ton, and, posing on tip-toe to kiss I'm
Gle Tom, and decorously greeting that
lawfully nice" Mr.. Chaplin, she said:
This is the public parlor. Won't you
come into No. Z where we can be quite
alone? ! want to bring down to you
now. right nom. my dearest teacher, who
has made me behave so well. You 90
so soon tomorrow. She won't talk
cats, Mr. Chaplin, if she is an old maid"
And she hurried them off into quiet,
| obscure little nook in one corner of the
building.
Miss Chesterfield stood at the book
shelf her hand resting on the Virgil,
and her face turned drcamilv toward
the window when Kate rushed in and
surprised her with a shower Of caresses.
mingled with frantic declarations of
''Uncle Toms here Come, come! Down
in No. ~ and carried her off by force
of arms, pausing long enough in the
hall to catch up from table spray of
bleeding hearts and fasten in Miss
Chesterlield's breast-pin, in spite of that
lady's faint protest
"Not that, dear Kate; anything but
that"
80, yes! For want Uncle Tom to
know you have captured some hearts,
if yours and theirs are bleeding"
Tell it, tell it-tell it, why-y-y-y not
tell it,, chirped the canary at the win
dow. The door of No. Z was flung
grandly open. Miss Chesterfeld's name
was announced to Mr.. Chaplin. Kate
sprang to her uncles side The two
faced each other, stunned bewildered.
He stood for an instant painfully erect
and motionless. He did not speak her
name, only: MY loveW and, as in a
dream, and took both her trembling
hands in his and pressed them hard
against his bosom.
And she! After the first swift glance
up to those lustrous eyes, upon that
face so changed and still the same. she
felt as if the film of lace about her
throat began to choke her; then as if a
great black chasm opened out between
them, and, clingng to each other, the
Fates had flung them headlong down
the fathomless abyss. But at the open
window he famed her back from faint
ing into wan and plaintive conscious
ness, while Kate danced wildly about
Uncle Tom, rapturously exclaming:
MY novel, Uncle Tom! My novel
0, don't you see? I've finished it, my
novel ~ And, after much explaining,
he did see Chicago Tribune.