Daily tobacco leaf-chronicle. (Clarksville, Tenn.) 1890-1895, 1890-06-09
JOEL AND JOAN.

should love to distraction the gentle
Joan McVey, fairest of Calhoun county's
daughters and the pride of Morgan town
ship. That he should love was no misfor-
tune; but that yawning social gulf
should stretch between Joan and himself
was calamity of fate. For Joel, poor ladl
worked around" and had never foot Of
land in his own right, while Joan was the
heiress of 800 acre farm, which certainly
was worth $50 an acre if 1t was worth a
cent. And, furthermore, Joan's father was
the town clerk "Peter McVey, clerk of
Morgan township" What an awful
sound it had for Joel, whose vague ideas
conceived the office second only to the
governor and third beneath the president.
They had spoken but once, yet he could
never forget that day, and his mind dwelt
upon her honeyed words until life became a
desert waste and was given over entirely
to the mirage of feverish dreams. She was
returning from town in her fathers demo
crat wagon, and Joel was tramping through
the sand in the opposite direction. He saw
her and his heart thumped his brawny
breast like trip hammer. 'She's looking
right at me-" be muttered with choking
throat, and so she was. He turned to
allow the vehicle to pass. Something
seemed to whisper to him: "Joel, now OF
never. Here is your opportunity. Go it,
ladw
Good evenin', Miss McVey," he STAN,
mered, although it was high noon.
Good morning, JOEL" said Joan, with
equal disregard for the time Of day.
o the sweetness of that voicel Jest like
meller wind wistlin' through the scrub
oaks" sighed Joel rapturously, and he
turned to watch her out of sight. Great
was his reward, for Joan likewise looked
around for another glimpse of the hand,
some youth. She smiled. His blue "wa-
mus" heaved like a fretful river and he
strained his eyes until she faded into the
misty shadows Of the woods by Hackett's
For one whole week Joel was in a seventh
heaven; but as time wore on, and his
initial success seemed likely to be his last,
he fell into the slough of despond. His
bashfulness would not allow of his follow
ing up the first bold stroke while the iron
was hot, and he waited so long to garner
sufficient courage that he feared his case
was hopeless.
Not having the stamina to bravely ad
dress her, what did it devolve upon him to
doP He must either give up all thought OF
her, or-or-why not write? He wrote a
fairly good hand, but his spelling was fear
full and his composition worse. Here is a
letter he began
miss McVa:
DEER MADM-This weather is Bad for haydn
an don't care whether die or stay well Inn That
Rekles like you an il you like me-
Getting thus far he was in great agony
for word. After wasting his thoughts
for ten or fifteen minutes, he showed his
good sense by destroying the letter.
The next day he went to town and pur
chased a work entitled "Lothario's Com
pendulum; or, An Easy Path to Courtship
and Marriage Containing a Complete Set
Of Letters, from Cold to Madly Impassioned
to Fit Every Variety of Condition Fully
Illustrated"
With this book he returned, and that
night, in the solitude of his chamber, with
a tallow dip at his elbow, he indited an
epistle that did him great credit
Behold it:
MIss-The boreal fires of my passion are blaz
ing with intensest fervor. My soul Is borne on
their seething pillows to the elysium of ethereal
fields, or falls back into red hot furnace, bat
ting with doubt. Thus ever with alternate hopes
and fears my life is gay or sad. l would ask thee,
gentle one, If in our brief but heavenly compan
meY My life, my happiness, nay, my very SOUL
hang on your reply. How remember the first
time ever saw you 1t was at the inaugural
ball Your golden hair was dressed In the sweet
est Of French twists and you had a bunch Of Gala
lilies at :. INST oh, how radiant, how
bright you werel The president smiled on you
but fancy your every glance was mine Was II
not so' And do you love me9 Or must l. with
your denial Of my love ringing in my ears, bury
my bleak life In heathen lands afor9
Answer me soon, dear one, for this uncertainty
is dreadful Languishlnsly, JOEL JENNINGS
In passing, would say that portion OF
this letter did not appear to Joel as quite
the proper thing. For instance, he never
saw an inaugural ball" (whatever that
! might be) and he could not remember that
the president had ever smiled on Joan, but
he was so afraid Of garbling his beautiful
copy If he attempted to alter it that he
copied it all, put it into pink envelope,
and dropped 1t in the postoffice with trem-
bling fingers.
Then he waited. Two days, three days,
four days passed and still no answer. But
Saturday came, and, lol when Joel made
inquiry at the Office fragrant lavender
note was handed him. He turned IL over
and over in his hand. On tho face was his
name In a beautiful script, and spelled with
two capitalism honor Joel rarely con
ferred upon himself on the back was u red
seal as large as a silver dollar, with de-
vice of two deers aspectant on the inscrip-
ton, 81 quoeris peninsulam am@nam, cir
cunspice.
How bealkxful" thought Joel, as he
spelled 1t out and wondered what in the
world it meant.
He could not wait until he got home be-
fore reading that letter. He would know
his fate at once, and he opened it forthwith:
DEAR JoEb-Long, long have l, with fondest
emotions dwelt upon dreams Of you. In my bou-
dor, many night, l have watched the light from
alabaster lamps scintillating iris hued beams
upon the objects de vertu with which my cham
Der overtiows, and, oh! dear one, someway, some
how, each fairy CLEAN twisted itself into other
fairy CLEANS and contrved TO picture your dear
face To my love blinded eyes. How hopeless
seemed my passion then, how hopeful seems it
now. DO remember the inaugural ballY All,
mel can ever forget IL? remember how, lean
ing upon the arm of the Baron Pounderzo, swept
through a stately mlnuet, catching your eyes ever
and auon-how sweet, how kind, how exquisitely
tenders What cared for president or nobleY 1t
was enough for me 10 know you saw me, and that
was In your thoughts Sweet fate for humble mel
Write me, write me often, dearest. Expectantly-
JOAN MATILDA MCVEY.
Returning to the farm that afternoon
Joel seemed to be walking on air, 80 light
were his spirits. He felt that the world
was his, and, though he secretly worried
over the Baron FouneeTso, he was fain to
believe his highness myth, and OF no
more substance than the inaugural ball
which he had opened in previous letter
When he parted the covers Of his com
pendium 20 find channel for his gushing
heart, be understood Joan's reply, for
there It was ON page l26 directly following
the letter be had Written He and Joan