Waterbury evening Democrat., 1889-11-21
BOGUS AND REAL.
But Miss Hawley May Marry an
 Upton, After All.

"No," said Deacon Hawley, "no, don't like him. And ] never shall. And it's no use saying that l ever shall try to-
 Deacon Hawley stood that November day in the middle of the kitchen, all wrapped up in fluffy comforters, shaggy great-coats, and knit blue and white mittens, looking like a great huge medieval giant, with nothing visible but his bright steel-blue eyes, the tip of his nose, and great deal of grizzled beard.
 There was a huge baking fire, and Matilda had just finished off a batch of mince pics, old-fashioned gingerbread and cranberry tarts, with the luscious crimson pulp prisoned beneath bars of enowy crust. There they stood in tempting array, while Matilda herself, a tall, blooming maiden of twenty, in a striped calico dress, with her curls fast ened back into a net, was touring some sort of golden batter into a colony of small tin patty pans, to make the cup cakes in which the deacon's soul de- lighted.
 'sNow, father. you are prejudiced," said Matilda. ''He is a very elegant young man.
 "He's a humbug!" shouted the deacon. ''Father.'
 I'm a-speakin' out my solemn convic- tions." said the deacon. "A book-writer, indeed! And a journalist! I hain't been much in literary society, Matilda, but for all that I'm pretty certain that he ain't the stuff that book-writers and | journalists are made of ''But, father, he loves me!'' ''He loves your fathers snug farm and | level meadow lands and bank account, you mean.' said the old man, shrewdly. Matilda set dow the pitcher of bat ter and burst into tears.
 Father" said she, you are so hard upon James Upton. Where is all the 1 Christian charity you boast of?'
 Tho deacon shrugged his shoulders.
 Its kept for different sort of ma:2 than that, ',Tild&." E4ld he. Look here, my girl, there's such & thing as instinct, and it tells me t. beware of Jimmy Up ton Give him 2;,2. #c.-Eiityr. ia,.2 the advice of those wl.o are older ami v:.sor than you, and give him C1.'
 'Tll ntrer eiTc hir2 up!" s2il Ma tilda Hawley, with tragic energy worthy of an Ophelia G. .,>-'i,' mona.
 The deacon shrugged his shoulders again and went out.
 IIo was going to Now York that day to investigate t:., 1.u, s1ial s2f",y oi certain &5oclls and bonds which ha con tcmplated purcn4 4aing, for Deacon flaw lev was 8 man wcll-to-do in tho world. and during the long, lonely ride through r the woods to the station he thought 8 | good deal about Matilda and Mr. Upton.
 ''I want her to be happy" said the | deacon to himsCli. 'But she's all I've got. 'Tilda is. and it would hurt me | pretty bad to have her become the vic tim of a fortunc-huntcr. If only thero was way of finding out who ;.1,t; what the man is before 'Tilda is married to | him hard and faSt.
 l/ At the Marmontel Bank Mir. Hawley met an old friend, Rev. Curtis Copley, once starving country curate, now 8 plump and well-to-do city minister, in sleek and shining broadcloth, black kid gloves and a soalsl1in muffier. They shook hands heartily.
 "S'pose you know a lot of people around town, Ccpley:' said the deacon.
 ''NVcll-a few, porhaps," mildly ad- mitted the reverend gentleman.
 "Know man by the name of Upton flames Upton?' pursued Deacon flaw ley.
 ''Do you mean the editor-the author of St. Sigmunda's Dream?'" said Copley.
 "Exactly," said the deacon, ciapping his hand upon his thigh.
 s'Oh, very well" said NIr. Copley. ''In fact, quite intimately. Would you like an introduction to him?'
 ''Eh?" said the deacon.
 q am writing 9 series of ecclesiastical papers for his magazine" said MT. Cop lev, with modest pride. q was intend ing to call at his office this morning, 1T. any event. Would you like to go with me?''
 "Yes," said the deacon, with empha- sis, II would.'
 "If you've never seen a publishing house." said MT. Copley, II think it will interest you
 As they walked along the street MT. Copley talked after sociable fashion, but tho deacon's answers were few and abstracted He was wondering how it could possibly be that MT. James Upton could be at Hazel Grange and in New | York at the same time. The deacon was nearly struck dumb when he eamo into the great, noisy,