The Princeton union. [volume] (Princeton, Minn.) 1876-1976, 1899-05-11

10 oAAN' ~ - ~ AAAS 4lfIu Occu pdeStu Al
Siberia. Here is my sout light here
among THESE people who raise a bale
OF cotton TO The acre, and care for their
nlggels as no white man at the north
could be coa.1ed or driven 90 do. well,
here we ARE, at the edge of the cotton
fields. Take a look therev' /
locked, and saw the sight thar I
had already seen dozen times at a
distance on my way down the river.
Hundreds of acres bursting into tic
snowy bloom of the cotton; a mimic
snowstorm, with the contrast Of deep
green foliage all about it, and azure
skies and unclouded sun above it..
The sight was one to remember for a
lifetime.
Under the shade of a broad-armed
oak. at the border of the fields Mr..
Dorion sat down and famed himself
with his hat s.-5@#.
''See here, my boy" he said, "rve
got something to say to you. want
to talk to you like father Sit down
there and hear me- t..a;>
complied. -. w, -. - D..
''When you came here, last night,
you were no more to me or to nv fam
lily than any other traveller from the
north would be. You have been with
us but a little while, and, I'm free to
say, you have grown on us. You are
lad of sense and spirit; like you.
My wife told me this morning that she
hoped I could keep you here awhile.
Now, don't you be too much fattered,
my lad. My wife is a sensible woman;
she knows that two of our daughters
are engaged to be married, and that
the other is likely to be, very soon.
don't expect any danger from you in
that quarter. But my overseer is get
ting cranky; he is a northern man, and
hesdon't use the field hands just as
would like. The idea has been pass
ing through my mind all night that I
would like to keep you with me, and
learn you all about the plantation and
the hands. Then, in few months, I
can dismiss the overseer and put you
in his place. You are northern born;
but feel as if you would be sue
cess in that place. What do you say?''
/ felt tempted. I hesitated, and
knew not what to say. Then I replied:
"You overpower me with your offer,
Mr.. Dorion. If it were not for my duty
to Mr.. Bostock-''
He snatched me up inpatiently:
''Your duty to Bostock? You owe
him none. Let me warn you not to
sacrifice your prospects to mere SEN
timent. The man that you think you
owe some obligation to is a changed,
embittered man. Do not think that
he will receive you with the cordiality
that he showed you ten years ago in
your northern home. He may not
know you at all. I don't know what
manner of reception he will give you.
Have you thought of this?'
was silent. He was encouraged by
my silence, and went on:
"And think, for moment, what you
are exposing yourself to! You are seek
ing to link your fortunes to those of a
man who has clouded his life. He has
alienated all the friends that he made
here. There is fearful mystery hang
ing over his past life. do not know
you do not know-how you may be-
come complicated with it, if you persist
in going on. I only say to you-shun
him!''
$ heard his words. reflected; and
the temptation to heed them grew less
and less. I recalled the poverty of my
life on the New Hampshire farm; my
yearning to be with him. "When,'' 1
thought, "did he need friends more than
now?'' was quickly decided.
II am grateful, very grateful to you,
Mr.. Dorion,' said. ''But must stand
by Mr.. Bostock.''
He looked hard at me, and seized my
hand.