The Princeton union. [volume] (Princeton, Minn.) 1876-1976, 1892-09-22

Jack and /, and made up our minds
that he had once been q sutton of Miss
Nancy's. 1t was not a very difficult
matter to guess it, and from that day
he called frequently. He made me
his confident at last.
He had adored Miss Nancy, he told
me, and she had returned his affection,
and they had become engaged to each
other with the consent OF the mother,
and all went merry as q marriage bell,
until, in some manner, he offended the
object OF his alteration.
Judge he made her jealous, having
been in his day a beau OF the first
water, and much admired by the ladies
but he was too modest to say SO out
right. But, at all events, she would
not forgive him. She refused him
the miniature which had been painted
for him, she took back her lock OF hair
and sent him back his letters, and in
all sorts ofways wreaked vengeance up
on him for his evil doings. Yes, be-
lieve she intended to relent and for
give, and he, also thought SO, I am
sure. He made every possible apol-
ogy and overture, but she yielded not
one inch. 49,
At last her mother died. That
great sorrow, it seemed to him, must
bow her pride, and she must more
than ever need comforter, a consol-
er, protector Allowing time for the
first burst of grief, he wrote to her
asking her to reply, whatever her fat
might be, begging her to forgive him
and once more promise to be his
wife.
"She never answered me-" he said.
"She never gave me one word in re-
ply"
It was on my tongue to say she had
been very vindictive, but I saw that
that would not do. Miss Nancy was
sainted in his memory, and could be
suspected of no wrong whatever.
II erred beyond forgiveness" and
Bachelor Barclay could not have been
moved from this opinion by the whis-
per OF an angel.
|
"Auntie!" cried my little nephew;
"there's somethingin the crows nest"
was sitting in the garden, and the
voice sounded above my head. I
looked up with start In the road
outside arose a tall pole, and from
time immem orial aYgreat crows nest
had crowned it. How little Billy had
| managed to reach it's apex cannot
say; but there he was, and, speeches.
with horror, could only implore him
in dumb show to descend. He an
swered me with a laugh, flung some
thing to the GROUND, and came sliding
down after it.
"You naughty boy!" I cried, as I
caught him in my arms.
he said. "It's all ugly and muddy.
There were some feathers in it, black,
| and there was a dead bird, and there
was that cap-a queer cap. I never
saw such a funny thing"
He picked from the grass the object
he had cast down. It looked like a
crushed leather box, aand had been
melted by the sun and soaked by the
rain until it was shapeless; but it GER,
tainly proved to be a queer, old-fash-
Toned cap, with a. peak, and lined
with oiled silk, and as Billy tossed it
about and turned it inside out, a.
square white package dropped from
some secret spot beneath this lining,
which had kept it from destruction
adown the years.
Long years they must have been,
for the letter had been written before
| the days when envelopes were used.
1t was curiously folded and sealed
with a large seal, on which was the
letter "F,' and was addressed in g.
delicate, running hand to "Alwyn
Barclay, Esq, The Oaks" etc, In
fact, it had evidently been intended
for the old gentleman we called Bache-
lor Barclay, and to him at once dis
| patched it with g. note of explana-
ton:
His answer was a request that I
and my husband would do him the
| honor OF calling, as he was i'll, and
there was much to explain. And of
course we went. Bachelor Barclay,
bolstered up with pillows, lay upon O.
lounge, pale as yellow wax, his eyes
shining under his gray brows.
"Dear friends, you have told me
that the letter you sent me was in
the lining of an old leather cap in the
crows nest," he said. II remember
seeing the cap thrown away. Miss
Frees little negro servant, Cato, wore
it. Acarpenter who was mending the
barn had snatched it and flung it in
the air. Apparently it never came
down again. It was searched for, and
[ watched the search from the window,
but never dreamed that it was in the
nest. The cap was old. Cato had a
new one, and that was the end of it.
But now remember that in that oiled
silk lining the boy put any letters with
which he was sent to the post-office,
in order to keep them clean. I think
it was made with sort OF pocket on
purpose, and in this lining this letter
had started on it's way to me, when O.
rude jest ended my hopes of happiness
for life. Cato forgot or never told the
fact OF it's being undelivered.
1.-The letter, dear friends, was an an
swer to my PRAYER for Nancy Frees
pardon-a beautiful, forgiving, angelic
reply. Had received it should have
flown to her. She would have been
my bride. These lonely years would
haye been gladstone. l might not
have been the last leaf on q withered
branch.
"1t was fated not to be. l trust she
did not suffer also. I-Ifenr that ia
possible. How discourteous she muat