Gloucester County Democrat. (Woodbury, N.J.) 1878-1932, 1892-01-21

DEATH. Biddulph left me to go home, a
new man. | find that he has staid in
u tab, for more hunting, | suppose"
Brent was kneeling at Miss Clitheroe's
feet, holding a cup for her to fill. He
| turned toward her father as he spoke.
At the name of Biddulph saw that her
red lips promise Of possible bushes was
no false one.
I 'sAhi' thought |, there perhaps is the
romance of the baronet's history. No
wonder he found England too narrow
\ for him if this noble woman would not
smile! Perhaps he has stopped in Utah
to renew his suit or volunteer his sery-
ices. A strange drama, with new ele-
ments Of interest coming in"
! l could not refrain from Studying Miss
Clitheroe with some curiosity as !
thought thus.
! She perceived my inquisitive look.
She made some excuse and stepped into
the wagon.
"Biddulph!' said the father. ELLEN
/ dear, Mr.. Brent knows our old neighbor,
4 Biron Biddulph. Oh, she has disappear
ed, 'on hospitable thoughts intent l
shall be delighted to meet an old friend
in Deseret. We knew him intimately at
home in better days-no. in those days !
blindly deemed better, before l was illu-
mined with the glories of the new faith,
and saw the New Jerusalem with eyes
! of hope"
Miss Clitheroe rejoined us. She had
\ been absent only a moment, but, as
could see, long enough for tears, and the
repression Of tears. | should have pitied
/ her more; but she seemed, in her stout
hearted womanhood, above pity, asking
no more than the sympathy the brave
have always ready for the sorrowful
brave.
/ Evidently to change the subject, she
engaged Brent again in his tea table Of
fees. looked at that passionate fellow
with some anxiety. He was putting a
! large share of earnestaess in his manner
! Of holding cups and distributing hard
tack.
Mr.. Clitheroe grew more and more
! genial as we became better acquainted
He praised the sunshine and the climate.
England had nothing like it, 50 our host
asserted. The atmosphere Of England
crushed the body, as its moral atmos.
4 phere repressed perfect freedom OF
4 thought and action.
4 Eyes; gentlemen" said he, sI have es-
capped at last into the region have long
ed for. l mean to renew my youth in
\ the Promised Land-to have my life over
\ again, with Il store Of the wisdom of
/ age"
Then he talked pleasantly of the Incl
! dents Of his journey impressible be-
/ ing, taking easily the color Of the mo-
ment, like child
''Think of it, sir" he said, 81 have
seen real Indians, splendid fellows. all
in their war paint; just such as | used to
read Of with delight in your Mr. Feni-
more's tales. And these prairies, too
1 | seem to have visited them already in
the works Of your charming Mr.. Irving
"a very pleasant author, very pleasant
indeed, and quite reminding me Of our
4 best essayists; though he has an Ameri-
can SAVIOR too. Mr.. Irving, think, did
not COME olC 50 rar Is t1Its. THIS region
has never been described by any one
with poetic eye. My brethren in the
Church Of the Latter-day have their
I duties Of stern apostleship; they cannot
I turn aside to the right hand nor to the
left. But when the saints are. gathered
\ in they viii begin to see the artistic
features Of their land.
''Those Wind River lnountains-fine
name, by the way-that l saw from the
4 South pass-they seem to me quite an
ideal Sierra. Their blue edges and
J cleaning snow peaks were great society
for us as we came by. We are very fond
4 Of scenery, sir, my daughter and l, and
this breadth Of effect is very impressive
after England. England, You know, sir,
is tame-a snug little place, but quite a
I prison for people of scope. Lancashire,
Y my old home, is very pretty, but not
/ grand; quite the contrary. l have grown
really quite tired of green grass and
well kept lawns and the shaved, beard
less, effeminate look of my native coun-
\ try. This rough nature is masculine 1t
reminds me of the youth of the world. |
like to be in the presence of strong
forces. | am not afraid of the Orson
feeling.
Besides, in Lancashire, particularly,
we never see the sun: we see smoke; we
breathe smoke; smoke spoils the fragrance
and darkens the hue of all our life.
/ hate chimneys, sir; have seen great for
/ tunes go up them. might perhaps tell
you something Of my own experience in
looking up a certain tall chimney not a
( hundred miles from Clitheroe, and seeing
ancestral acres fly up it, and ancestral
pictures and splendid old mansion all
4 going off in smoke. But you are stran-
4 ger and do not care about hearing my
/ old gossip. Besides, what is the loss of
houses and lands if one finds the pearl
Of great price, and wins the prophets
crown and the saints throncY
And here the gray haired, pale, dreamy
4 old gentleman paused, and half quench-
4 ed fire glilnmered in his eye. His childish,
fanatical ambition stirred him, and he
smiled with a look of triumph.
| was silent in speechless pity.
His daughter turned and smiled with
almost fearful tenderness upon her father.
Il have not heard you so animated for
long time, dear father" she said Mr.
n Wade seems quite to inspire you.
'.Yes, my dear; he has been talking on
many very interesting topics.
l had really done nothing but to bow
and utter those civil monosyllables which
are the Hear! hearT' Of conversation.
If had been silent, Brent had not.
While the garrulous old gentleman was
prattling ON at full speed, had heard
all the time my friends low, lnelodious
voice as he talked to the lady He was
trained artist in the fine art of sym
4 pathy. His own early sorrow had
made him infinitely tender with all that
suffer. To their hearts he came as one
that had a right to enter, as one that
knew their malady, and was commanded
to lay a gentle touch Of soothing there.
1t is great power to have known the
worst and bitterest that can befall the
human life, and yet not be hardened.
No sufferer can resist the fine magnet
ism Of wise and unintrusive pity. 1t
is as mild and healing as music by night
to fevered sleeplessness.
The lady's protective armor Of stern
ness was presently thrown aside. She
perceived that she need not wear il
against man who was brother to every
desolate soul-sisterly indeed, 50 delicate