Democratic messenger. [volume] (Snow Hill, Md.) 1869-1973, 1889-03-16
MIRIAM DOUGLAS.

gagged in preparing for college, under
the tuition of clergyman in a small
village in eastern New York. In the
same place was a young ladies' semi
nary ut which, during several months
Of the year, there were gathered from
scvcnty.tivc To one hundred young
women.
The son Of farmer in the vicinity,
ignorant of the world and unused To
society other than such us was afforded
by the muscular girls of the sparse
farming community, il may easily be
fancicd that the seminary students
seemed To me, with their fins dresses.
their sprightly faces and engaging
manners 10 be beings Of u superior
order. They Were, in my esteem,
vcritable hours, uncqualcd in their
charms and surprising in their at
fractions.
For months | was content with n
distant worship. To stand on the
piazza of the tavern" ON Sunday
mornings, and watch the long. double
lines Of youth, us they moved on their
way 10 the church, was II felicity that
for the time gratilicd my most ardent
expectations. At the outset my vision
was So ,lazzled that saw only wind
ing. sinuous line OF exquisite color
and beauty. In time the glowing
whole began 10 he resolved into dc.
tails; black eyes and blue: golden and
raven locks; blondes and brunettcs;
laughing mouths and slender forms
manifested themselves as single stars
in n nebula under the inspection Of IL
telescope.
Many Of the girls were common
place in appearance. and others be-
came SD only after long observation.
Many of them were Possessed of aver
age charms, while there were half
dozen or so Of supcrlaiivc attractions.
One Of this class attracted my especial
notice, not merely on account of her
beautiful face, graceful motions and
tall, slender figure. but mainly on nc
count Of sadness that almost perpctu.
ally pervadcd her countenance. Her
hair was black as ink. her complexion
that of an octoroon, her eyes OF spe-
cies Of purple black, all OF which was
sort of setting Of mourning for tho
melancholy face.
Certain evenings ut the seminary
were given 10 social diversions, ut one
Of which lmade the acquaintance of
the possessor of the triste countenance.
Her name was Miriam Douglas. She
was about II years of age; and. rs ]
later discovered, an accomplished
singer, linguist and conversationalist.
She was so unlike others in her APP
pearancc, SO marked in her melan.
holy. so gentle in her converse. and so
brilliant ut the piano, that became
powerfully attracted To her. and when
ever circumstances permitted we wcrc
together. | do not now think that our
acquaintance maturcd to the ripcness
of love, on my part nj least, and yet
the liking | conceived for her was not
remote from II profound affection. /
think that my sympathy with her
sadness, the mystery of her life, my
respect for what ! saw To be puro
life and beautiful nature, may have
approached in warmth and tenderness
very near in appearance and the man
ncr of exhibition TO ardent love.
No actual declaration of passion was
ever made. She seemed 10 need me.
to lean against me, and Ia prefer me
Ia all others of my sex. Ii there was
no actual announcement Of love in
words, it was suggested in looks, atti-
tudes, tones, and thinly yelled de-
lusionS
When the time came that her school
term ended, we parted one night on
the piazza Of the seminary. All the
other pupils had gone and we were
alone. | tried score of times 10 say
a,.,n.l Ia. h,tt .,anl, ssn.a fnilnI
You will write me as soon us you
get homc.' asked.
Yes; and you will answer, won't
you.'
"Wcll, must 20. God bless you"
Her head dropped a little forward.
her lips came close 10 mine; kissed
them and went away.
We exchanged letters with regular
ity and nj short intervals. Her letters
were restrained in tone, and otter
ut variance with the situation. She
wrote Of books, her occupation, tho
gossip of her friends. She seemed to
be ncrvously apprchcnsivc that she
might touch the theme Of the passions;
she carefully avoided any illusions to
our parting.
II was in the spring when she went
home, and in September following |
received letter from the school
trustees Of the town in which Miriam
lived asking me 10 teach their winter
school. They gave the number Of
pupils, the amount of the compensa.
ton, and closed with the hope that
would be able To accept the PROPOSE
ton. AS had been school teaching
for several winters, in order To secure
funds for collegiate education, and
the offer of the trustees was mn excep.
tionally good one. ut once wrote my
acceptance.
Tie last day Of November saw INC
in the town where the school was To-
Gated. The region was in the high
uplands that border the Mohawk val.
ley. had reached il by long and
tircsome stage road which passed from
little railway station down by the
river, up through narrow riffs in the
hills, aud across rocky and rugged
heights. II was poor region, in
which limestone rocks often appeared
at the surface. The fields were small,
and almost covered with powders; the
infrequent houses were tumbling, un.
painted; the fences were Of rotting
wooden rails, or Of piled up stones.
II was n wrotchcd. sterile. forbidding
scene Some dwarfed sumachs. with
their sca-t verdurc yellowed by frosts.
ratified theirthin branches in the au-
tumn wind. Stunted hemlocks, with
dead tops. stood like half clad skele-
tons among the crevices Of dark, bald
rocks Nowhere was there anything
cheerful. inspiriting or suggestive OF
promise. Had II not been for the
thought that this unacceptable place
was the home Of Miriam | should have
turned about and returned 10 civiliza-
ton.
found the residence of one Of the
trustees. and was informed that was
10 'board around" that Is, 10 remain
week at each OF the homes Of the pa
irons Of the school. The prospects Of
this method Of living, In view OF the