The Press., 1891-10-08

 stood with bride and groom, for both l would have it so, when honest Nancy Ma ria became Mrs. Silas Burchmore. The brides story of the courtship was as simple and unique as the wedding. "I don't mind telling you how 1t was," said she one evening before Paul went back to the city. He had been thanking her for the hundredth time for her kind ness to his father.
 "No, don't mind telling you how 1t came about. You see, your pa was dread | full lonely and down-hearted, and needed some one to kind of cosset him and keep him from getting discouraged-like and going back to things we never mention now, and are best forgot I am free to confess that when he first mentioned 1t said NO; you see I'd said no to other men, and all my life long I've kind of vowed that, come what would, nothing should make me marry another woman's rehct; silly, you know, but l meant 1t !; but when saw your pa day after day growing better and better, and kinder I and kinder, and feelin' so hurt, like mo- body cared for him, got to feelin' sorry and it's jest as easy as slidin' off a log to | slip right from pity to likin' lem better an better; I ain't one to talk love and 1 molasses and such nonsense, but do say that your pa sets store by me, an can understand how your ma must hev liked him when he was young and spry. Final ! ly sez to him, now jest let the matter rest till your son comes, an whatever he and seemed to like the idee, and here we are comfortable and happy. I can't be a real mother to you equal to her that's gone, but guess there ain't step-moth- CT in the land that can be prouder of her son; and Paul, dear, there's no call for you to show my old-fashioned ways among your genteel friends. If the two of us can make your pa happy for the rest of his days, it is worth all 1t costs; and don't want @ dollar of this property, which is yours by right, fer I have a little sum | down in the bank at Sweetwater that'n carry me through and bury me decent when my turn comes. You won't be ashamed of me here at home, will you, Paul?" ..,
 Neither here nor. anywhere" said Paul, "but glad and grateful. You make me think of some lines Maida is fond of quoting:
 | fC i'm nps or in clay, | You both have my blessing, and God guard your way.'n Some months after the Burchmore we'd ding Phil and his sister sat together in Consecration Cottage: It was the 'twi- light hour, and both were seated on an old settle before the open fire. As usual at such times, Phil held his sisters hand. It comforted him as he could not see her face.
 "Phil, dear" said Maida, after some moments of profound silence, "did not one oculist say that your sight might re- turn suddenly some day, if you were sur prised, or greatly agitated ?" l "Yes," said Phil, dreamily, as If hope was dying in his heart. Mature has her own secrets and resources; we have done our best; now we must wait"
 "Was it the expert in Paris who said that?"
 F"I believe so, pet; but never mind ]; doctors are fallible mortals."
 "Phil, do you think I could surprise you in any way?"
 Hardly, dear, since you are so much a part of myself"
 Do you think Paul could? ?"
 "He, too, is one of us. He is like a devoted brother. I have never been able to tell you the half of his goodness to me. For many weeks, when the blindness first came, I was like helpless child; was fractious and irritable, but Paul was al- ways the same. He is the noblest man ever knew, and the one thing pray for Is that, in some way, or some how, I may be able to repay him."
 "What could you do, Phil?"
 "I do not know, dear. I have wild dreams of building him a fine studio, of sending him abroad again, and other fan cies, all the visions of my fond brain." l "Phil."
 "Well, sister,"
 "Do you think you would be willing to give noe to Paul ?'
 Phil was startled, and pressed the hand in his unconsciously.
 "Do you mean," he said, "that it has come to that? Does Paul say so? Do you? Excuse me, dear, have been blind in two ways all this time. I thought Paul never cared for women, save as he honors them like the Blessed Has 1t indeed come to that, darling?"
 "Yes, Phil; Paul has asked me to be- come his wife,"
 | There was perceptible tremor in Phil's voice as he said:
 "And what did you say, dear? Tell me an."
 "I said DO; there was nothing else to do; you need me, and mamma needs me, and the Blessed must not know, it would pain her, and Paul, too. He went back to his work and am here to do mine. '' For some moments no sound was heard save the cracking of the wood upon the hearth; then Phil threw back his hand lsome head, and, with his face aglow, said
 "Maida, my precious sister, we must send for Paul. I never dreamed that he had won my darling. How silent and un- selfish he has been. I need not question you. I read your heart now as never be- fore, and I tell you from mine that in all STARTLING FAcTs.-The American peo- pie are rapidly becoming race of ner. vous wrecks, and the following suggests the best remedy: Alphonso Tempting, of Butler, Pa, swears that when his son was speeches. from St. .Vitus dance Dr. Miles great Restorative Mervine cured .l him. Mrs. J. R. Miller, of Valparaiso IT - n ~oA