Waterbury evening Democrat., 1889-11-21

| c had dreamed of. Printers, with my faces and flying fingers, stood at i | -ir composing cases; little ''devils" |. " up and down; proof-readers bent over their desks, and wood engravers toiled behind magnifying glasses. And while Deacon Hawley stared, in came plump, bald-headed man of forty, with l jet-blacl1 mustache and eyes to match.
 "Upton," said MT. Copley, 'sthis is my friend, MT. Hawley, of Hazel Grange. 1 Deacon, allow me to introduce MT. Up ton."
 "Glad to meet you, sir; glad to meet you,' said MT. Upton, cordially wiring ing the deacon's mittened hand.
 ''But, I say," ejaculated the deacon, ''you're the wrong mans
 ''Sir!'' said MT. Upton, in surprise.
 GOT else the other man is," explained tho deacon. ''There's 8 person at Hazel Grange who calls himself James Upton, and declares that he is the journalist and author"
 ''Ah!' said MT. Upton, his quick, black eyes becoming gravely intent all of sudden. ''What sort of man is hc?'
 Not in the least like you," said the deacon. 'Tall and dark, with clean l tern jaws. One of those fellows who is always lowing and scraping and getting behind doors.''
 ''I see,'' said Mir. Upton, quietly open ing desk and taking out photograph. ''Is he any thing like this?''
 The deacon brought his closed hand down on the lid of the desk with an en- ergy which had well-nigh split the board in twain.
 ''The very one!' roared he.
 ''He is an impostor," said the journal ist, curtly. ''Arrant scoundrel! I knew him of old. He was discharged from this office a year ago."
 "He's making love to my daughter"
 said the deacon.
 ''Is he?" said MT. Upton. ''Its way
 he has of amusing himself. lie often , does it. He has two living wives already more, for aught 1 know. So he is 1t
 your house?' And then Deacon Hawley told him all
 about it.
 If you would come down to Hazel :. Grange" said he, ''and confront the villain.''
 II will," said Mir. Upton, with ener- gy. If he chooses to usurp my person ality, he shall find that he has me to
 deal with" So Deacon Hawley and MT. Upton went down to Hazel Grange together,
 and with them travelled a quiet, respect ablc-looking gentleman, in black suit and eyeglasses.
 Matilda and her suitor were sitting cozily together in the freight when her
 father came in out of the frozen star light and clustering icicles of the win
 ;rrl+ toI q fr11y Are you very cold and tired, father?" said sho
 .'Pretty we'll" said the deacon, as he O kissed the girls cherry cheeks. But he } never looked at the tall visitor nor spoke to him.
 i've brought company with me, 'Tilda," said he. "Here they come!' Company. father?" echoed Matilda. ''Who are they?" ''Mr. John Smith, of New York, pri- vate detective" answered MT. Hawley,
 ''and Nlr. James Upton, the author and l publisher, of Down Hill square," And the next minute the plump, bald
 headed editor and the quiet detective
 were r5S-es-ris with the impostor. '';Sir,' cried Mir. Upton, you arc , villain!'
 5 ''Sir," said Mir. John Smith, "I ! arrest you for bigamy, at the suit of
 Mrs. Lhoda Gale. your last victim!' 4 So Mir. James Upton, alias half a
 dozen other high-sounding names, was
 carried ignominiously back to New York by the detective, while the
 genuine Mr. Upton, at the earnest so- licitation of the deacon, consented to
 remain all night at Hazel Grange. . ;, You are a wicked, cruel man, cried
 Matilda. dissolved in tears.
 My dear young lady," said the jour
 nalist, you will live to thank me for = | this
 Ii You are a monster!" said Matilda, | notioning him away. Don't speak to = me!''
 Don't mind her," said Deacon = Hawley. "We'n smoke our pipes by
 the great open fireplace in the kitchen. . She'll come to her senses by that time." < So the deacon and the editor went into o the back kitchen, where there was a
 gigantic fireplace full of blazing logs, ', with old-fashioned brass andirons, and a stone hearth, and presently Matilda a came out.
 n 'I-Tm sorry for what I said just l, now" said she, looking very pretty, " with her wet eyelashes and crimson
 checks. And so she made up with the n editor.
 Mir. Upton-the real-went back to l. New York; and, pleased with the
 antique furniture, he came down again ', in a few days; the country air agreed , with him, he said.
 .Wouldn't it be strange" said the IF deacon, chucking, when the editor
 went back the second time, eff my /, 'Tilda should be Mrs. Upton, after alIs''
 ', '.Don't, father!'' said 'Tilda. But she Q blushed very prettily when she said it.
 Mir. Upton, the pretender, is now be-
 ginning his term for bigamy. And there |, is every probability that society will be ,- deprived of his valuable countenance l. for awhile.-Jenhie Brundage, in N. I. !, Ledger. E h Young Women in Alaska.