The Universalist. [volume] (Chicago [Ill.]) 1884-1897, 1895-04-27

land, whom | saw when | spent the
day there, eleven years ago. re-
member what long curls she had, and
how fond she seemed of him. Yes, l
dare say it's to Clara. | hope, though,
she hasn't grown up into one of those
delicate young ladies, good for moth
ing but to display the | atest fashion,
and waltz little, and torture the
piano. Better some rosy, sturdy
German Gretchen than a poor doll
like them. 1t would be shame for
Tom, with his splendid physique and
vigorous brain, to be tied for life to
such woman" And then turning
down school street, my thoughts
wandered off to a blue eyed girl 1
had loved for many year-a girl
who was not satisfied with the small
triumphs of the croquet ground, but
who could send an arrow straight
home to the mark; and climb the hills
with me, her step light and free as
the deer's in the glade below; and
hold a steady oar in our boat on the
river; and swim ashore, if need should
be; and then, when walk or row was
over, who could sit down to a good
lunch of cold meat and bread and
butter with an appetite as keen as
young Indians after days hunt;
yes, and who knew how to be effici-
ent in the kitchen and the rarest or
nament of the parlor. How impatient
l was to see her, the bewitching
maiden, whom prince might have
been proud to marry. And again I
said to myself, as went up the
Parker House steps: 81 do hope Tom
hasn't made fool of HIMSELF"
Four o'clock found me at the sta
ton; and a moment later in walked
Tom, carrying a basket filled with
Jersey peaches. "They don't grow
in Greenland" said he, tucking the
paper down over the fruit. "Come
this way" l followed him, and we
had just seated ourselves comfortably
in the car when the train moved off.
'Now for the story, Tom," said l, as
we crossed the bridge and caught the
breeze cool from thesea. "But l can
guess beforehand the girl you mar
ried. 1t was Clara Maitland"
A shadow passed over Toms face.
"Clara has been dead four years."
said he. "She inherited consumption
from her mother. We did everything
for her-took her to Minnesota and
Florida; but it was no use. She did
not live to see her eighteenth birth
day."
Poor Clara! She loved you dearly.
Then l suppose you chose some Bos-
ton girl of your acquaintance"
sack, you couldn't tell who Mrs.
Tom Foster was if you should try
from now till morning. I shall have
to enlighten you," and moving the
basket to one side and settling him
self in his seat, he went on: "You
know l have the misfortune to be an
only child. After was twenty-one,
father and mother began to talk
about my marrying. I have plenty
of cousins, you know, and we always
had young ladies going in and out of
the house; but while Clara lived she
was company for me, and after she
died / was full of business, and didn't
trouble myself about matrimony. To
tell the truth, Jack, 1 didn't fancy
the girls. Perhaps was unfortunate
in my acquaintances; but they
seemed to me all curls and founces
and furbelows and l would as soon
have thought of marrying a fashion
plate as one of these elaborate Great
ures. don't object to style; 1 like
it. But you can see fine gowns and
bonnets any day in the Washington
Street windows; and my ideal of a
woman was one whose dress is her
least attraction"
"Do you recollect fathers former
partner, Adam Lane? He's a clever
old gentleman and millionaire, and
father has the greatest liking and re-
spect for him. He has two daughters
One married years ago; and the
other, much younger, father fixed up
on as a desirable wife for me. l
rather think the two families had
talked it over together; at any rate,
Miss Matilda came to Greenland for
a long summer visit. She is an ami
able girl; but SO petted and spoiled
that she's good for nothing0undevel-
oped in mind and body. She looked
very gay in the evenings attired in
Jordan, Marsh & Co.'S latest importa-
tions. But she was always late at
breakfast; she didn't dare to ride
horse back; she couldn't take walk
without stopping to rest on every