The Democratic advocate. [volume] (Westminster, Md.) 1865-1972, 1894-10-06
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From the Argosy.

factory way any longer. lou nave reacheu
the age Of 80, yet here you are with no
ties, no duties, no interests-no one to
think of or spend your money upon save
yourself. As natural consequence you
are miserable. You must take wife.
ga wife might worry me.
"Then let her worry you. Surely any
thing is better than dull drifting.
at is all very fine for you to talk, Pin
dar," said Theodore, in slightly nettled
tone, "but you've taken good care to steer
clear of wives yourself. A bachelor of 90
hasn't much right to preach matrimony to
men Younger than himself-but that's the
way with you parsons" Here the speaker
broke off, the languor induced by an after
noon pipe triumphing over indignation.
He stretched his legs little further out,
nestled his head a little deeper amidst the
soft cushions of his armchair, and with an
air of mild melancholy awaited the next
utterance Of his friend.
Mr.. Theodore Vane was in one respect
much-to-be-envied person. At the age
of "a he had unexpectedly succeeded to an
estate bringing in Il clear seven thousand
year. No drawbacks accruing there
from, not even a poor relation who could
beseech pension. An utter absence OF
relatives was perhaps the sole disadvan-
tape under which his manhood suffered !;
there were none to control, none to direct,
none even to advise with authority. So
this favorite of fortune, young, rich,
healthy, handsome, drifted to and fro like
spar on the sea, and none could tell
what would be the end of him. A strange
inability to keep long to any course was
his. Everything had been tried, save
matrimony, and everything had been cast
aside as not worth pursuing. His last ex-
pertinent had been foreign travel, and in
Switzerland he had come across the Rev.
Paul Pindar, rector of St. GabrieFs Stain
bourne, Hants. a man who had visited at
his fathers vicarage in the old days. Mr..
Pindar was of very different type from
the motiveless Theodore; nevertheless the
two became friends. The memory OF the
old days was bond between; the clergy
man felt that this drifting spar should be
brought into harbor if possible, and that 1t
was only right the hand of an old friend
should point the way. =.
Theodore was now visiting his new
found friend for the first time. Host and
guest formed contrast as they sat facing
each other in bay window of the rectory
dining-room. The clergyman was broad
and athletic in figure, had strong, well.cut
features, a clean-shayen face, and marked
air of distinction. At the first glance 1t
was perceivable he was gentleman, and
when he spoke his extremely refined utter
ance strengthened the conviction. Iheo-
dore was indisputably handsome embodied
in marble his profile would have been per-
feet, but despite the blue eyes and ine
head Of curling chestnut hair, a weak and
somewhat peeyish expresssS;. marred him
as living being. His figure, too, spoke
of weakness; he stopped and his general
air lacked the distinction so observable IN
his friend.
The two had but lately returned from
lunching at house in the neighborhood,
the Grove, occupied by Mrs. Hooker, a
widow with four daughters. The four
Miss Hookers were all pretty, all unmar-
ried, and all at home. The sight of so
much welded charm had no doubt prompt
ed Mr.. Pindar to make the foregoing re-
marks to his eligible friend. A short 81
lence now fell between the pair. Theo-
dore's last observations had touched some
long silent chord in the elderly clergyman s
heart; he flushed, and seemed to find it
difficult to frame his reply.
At5O mans life lies behind him, Theo-
dore." he observed at length, "and | own
that mine has been full of grievous mis-
takes. You at 3a can still be said to have
your life before you, and I should be sorry
to think that the day should ever come
when YOU feel as | often do now, that the
hearth is very desolate, and the hearth
very empty"
1Weli, If it comes to that, man can
marry even at so. Some one the same
age, you see, OF possibly younger. There
are always women thankful to marry any
body-at least-I don't mean that you re
anybody, of course -
@I am quite aware of that, my boy, in
terrupted Mr.. Pindar, with a good-hu-
mored smile, "I know I'm nobody. Un-
fortunately nobody of 90 who does not
rejoice in u big income has not much pick
and choice, and fear l am a little fastidi-
GUS where women are concerned. can
not reasonably expect any young and
charming woman to marry me; and
here he gave little laugh-s1 don't think
l could bring myself to marry an old and
unattractive one"
"Ha! Har' laughed Theodore, reused
into actual amusement "Imagine i'll Cat
on the hearth, spectaeles, knitting, squeaks
of pain from rheumatism-not quite up 20
that vet eh Mr.. Paul Pindar? Well, | sup
pose 1 am still entitled to choose from the
Young, but I'm so awfully afraid of choos-
ing the wrong woman. If | could only be
sure of marrying the right one, I'd marry
tomorrow.
:Now, attend to me Theodore. Seri-
ously speaking, l have shown you this
afternoon as pretty, nice, well brought-up
girls as can be found in any English county.
All different styles, and each in her own
style admirable Now, there's Mary, the
second girl, only &c, thoroughly kind
hearted, good-natured creature, full of en-
ergy and spirits, brimming over with
health, and such lovely hair and com
plexion."
aAhl but she's too fat. And almost
too rosy If she was thinner now, and a
trife less highly colored."
aThen, what do you say to Lizzie, the
third one? A really clever girl, and most
accomplished. And such vivacity. You
could never feel dull with 50 lively crea-
ture in the house. She has her fair share
of good looks, too no man need feel
ashamed of seeing her at the head of his
table"
Eyes, but she's very thin, and she talks
in almost too sharp way. If she were a
trife fatter, now, and"
aAh, WE'LL there's still Daisy. She is a
beauty. No man with eyes in his head
can DENY that In n wear mr. two she will