The weekly sentinel. [volume] (Winston-Salem, N.C.) 1886-1887, 1886-07-01

JUST AFTER THE WAR.
A STORY OF TEIE SOUTH
Weekly Sentinel By Eleanor H. Jones' Of No Borne n
Author of "1fss LiHAgohn."

| can see, Dut QOnC care, Tor since yes
terday, [ hate them all.
! Father answers him thus, .'they are
gentlemen, if they resemble their un-
Gle at all.
Archie leaves soon, but before he
| does, he makes it convenient to come
near me, and whispers, est. John
foundering like terrapin in great
misery, Miss Priscilla, and heroine,
pulls him out on dry land in stylish
order, &C., synopsis of next Serial, en-
titled, The Mermaid OF s. to ap-
pear in the Recorder during the COM
ing fall, opening Chapter commences
next week"
1 cast contemptuous look at him,
but he says out loud, without noticing
it, ats said to be very fine, and I'll
get it for you as soon as | cam
Its well he gets out of the door so
quick, or think I'd thrown the ink
stand at him.
Jamie comes by me, and pats me
on the shoulder, and slips some money
in my tand, which l know he can
hardly spare, so l feel his sympathy
for me, as Archie's ridicule, but his
kindness melts me, as the other hard
ems; oh what a difference there is
in my two older brothers.
One always rufles, the other al
ways soothes me. I wonder why it
| should be 50.
After all the rest leave the room,
father, who seems to be waiting for
something, draws me to him, and put
ting his arm around me tells me he is
so glad his little daughter did such a
noble thing yesterday as to save the
young mans life. How some one told
him about it down town, and how
worried he felt until mother told him
all about it, and said, / was all right.
Then he kisses me many times, tells
me to be careful, and goes, while I
cling to him. There is sacred feel
ing about fathers private conversation.
1t must be he is purified through suf-
fering.
1 feel quite weak; I believe its tn
whiskey | think l got too much last
night Old Peggy was thinking of
herself when she poured all that down
me.
| also feel disturbed and restless,
nervous l suppose you'd call it. SO I
wander out to my retreat, the end of
the trough, which is rather high one
being the one for the horse and cow,
but its comfortable then, even if my
feet do dangle in the air.
/ sit here and feel miserable, until
/ hear merry whistle behind me, and
looking around, see Jack coming to-
! wards me with eggs in each hand.
/! He holds them towards me and
says, "here's present for you,"' but
| won't take them. Jacks far too
generous, he is selling eggs and saving
all the money he can get to buy some
boots next winter.
But he says he won't take them, ard
he'll let them roll on the ground, if
don't, SO put them in my apron, and
make up my mind to keep the money
and get the boots myself if can, and
give them to him.
I'm glad 1 shall be an old maid, l
can keep house for Jack and Jamie
l know Jamie will never marry; he's
like Joel, too good for women to fan
cy. They won't take to him they
never do to this, quiet, slow, steady
going sort of men.
Now Archie is the kind to suit the
ladies; don't know why it is, but its
so, and l might be like my sex.
The good men are overlooked, and
the bad seem to know how to inspire
the most love. l reckon its all ri ht
as they need it the most, but / fee
sorry for the women when they, some
day, find out the difference in the val
ue Of good and bad, if they've bound
their fate to the latter.