Staunton vindicator. [volume] (Staunton, Va.) 1860-1896, 1895-01-04
keep now, my dear. I'll manage it a
great deal more economically than you
will be likely to-"

| 'But''-
''Give me the money, say"
Major Teller meekly put his hand
into his pocket and submissively hand
ed over the purse.
| The major crept silently away, think
ing how, the last time he crossed that
threshold, he was free man, and now:
'I'm married. unused Major Teller.
II couldn't help it. It wasn't my fault,
but here am, no money, no cigars. no
freedom-worse than any galley slave
Sixty years old next month and mar
ried to Patience Pettigrew!"
He walked disconsolately down the
| street, both hands in his empty pockets
and his hat tipped recklessly down over
his eyes.
He stopped at the street corner, un-
certain which way to 60 But as he
gazed the bright, steely glimmer of the
river caught his eye.
''All right" muttered Sempronius
! modify. "I'll go and drown myself.
It's a short way out Of long lane of
difficulty. Anything but going back to
Patience Pettigrew.
"Want boat, sir?" demanded stur-
dy man.
eyes," said the major; 81 want Cha.
,ron's boat to row me over the Styx"
s.'Don't know him, sir, " said the puz-
zleG boatman, "but mines sound and
light and''-
The naajor waited to hear no more,
but gave blind downward jump.
Down, down with that peculiar SEN
sation of falling SO. familiar to us all
down-down-untif>
"Beg pardon, sir, but the church is
goin to be shut up, and everybody g
gone. Hope you've had a good nap,
sir?''
The sexton spoke satirically. but in
his tones Major Teller recognized hope
and freedom. He started wildly to his
feet.
Major Teller satisfied the sexton with
a donation whose iberality astonished
even that parsonage and went at once
to hotel to engage rooms.
'I'll send for my things" he thought
81 won't go back to that house. I'm
not married, and I don't mean to be
marriedp'
Discretion is the better part of valor
and Miss Patience Pettigrew remains
Miss Patience Pettigrew still. Bnt Ma
jor Teller goes to church very regularly
Exchange
The Old. Old Man.
A mile or so from the Westbury Half
Way House there is little cluster of red
buildings to the north of the highroad
Here, nestled between a modern shoot
ing box and All ancient farmstead, is
small chapel, and within the chapel a
memorial plate to Parr: 1.-The old, old,
very old man, born in the year of our
Lord 1883. He lived in the reign of ten
kings and queens of England, died the
18th and was buryed in Westminster
abbey on the 10Th of November, 1885"
The inscription on brass, in neat
oak frame, Of course proves nothing,
though it may we'll date from the mid
attractive feature is the neatly engrav-
ed head of Parr, which is little at vari-
ance with that given in Taylor's pam
phlet. 1t is hard to think this serene
faced person, in the conical skullcap,
the trim white collar and many but
toned coat, was farm laborer all his
life. His peaked beard is Of the kind
Vandyke loved to paint, and his mus
tache runs down into it. The nose is
long and straight, and his eyebrows are
handsomely arched.
Whether this portrait be true or an
ideal one, it is famously suggestive Of a
man who "hath not been troubled in
mind for either the building or throwing
down of abbeys and religious houses"
who did never "murmur at the manner
of prayers, let them be Latin or Eng
lish," and who ''held it safest to be OF
the religion of tho king and queen that
were (sic) in being" 1t is to be hoped
indeed he was such man, else he
could not have lived through more
tiresome century and half of English
life. -Macmillan' S Magazine.