Year: 1868

Z
Translated from the French by r. E. A. Atree.


THE most honest of all Quakers, Toby
Smpleton, lived at London, in a pleasant
little dwelling graced by the presence of
his daughter Mary. She was not quite
seventeen years of age; was charmingly
fair, had blue eyes, and possessed as much
modesty as beauty. All the young men
of her fathers acquaintance were her suit
ors all those of the neighborhood sought
to gain her notice. Vain efforts Mary
was no coquette, and instead of enioying
the effect produced by her charms, she was
veXed on account Of the manners of all her
admirers, except one Edward Weresford,
young artist, admitted to the intimacy
of her family.


A very simple event had caused this
friendship. A premature death had car
r1ed of the Quaker's wife. She was young
and beautiful, and desiring to perpetuate
the image OF her who was so dear to
him, nd had caused the artist to come to
the bed of death 1t was there that Ed
ward saw the desolate damsel; it was there
a serious first love took place, amid the
tears of one and the pious work of the
other. The year which elapsed after this
epoch had but strengthened the bond
formed under these auspices, and the
young man had showed to the father
both his desire and hope.


The excellent Toby had no reason what
ever for opposing the mutual inclinations
OF the two young persons. Without be-
ing rich, Edward earned by means of his
pencil what sufflced to support family
honorably. His father, Mr. Weresford, an
old merchant of the city, had retired from
business, with fortune increased more
than tenfold, This was a rare example of
rapid success in speculation-so rapid in
deed that few could follow its progress.


Yet Weresford, of so blunt and stern
disposition, lived alone in q suburb of
London, and without caring what his son
was doing, left him entirely at liberty. He
was one of those accommodating cyclists
who trouble no one, provided they trouble
Rot tthem-persons of perfect complaisance
if you ask nothing of them.


Edward, therefore, could, without inter.
ruption, court his pretty Quakeress, well
assured that his father would never think
of opposing his marriage. The situation
OF the loving couple was, to all appear
ance, very prosperous and honest Toby
dld not put of the day of their marriage
longer than to collect the arreages of his
rents; he destined the money for the ex-
traordinary expenses of the ceremony
For this purpose he went to his country
seat some miles from London, in order to
regulate his affairs. He had passed but
one day away from home; and as he was
about to put up his horse for the night, he
perceived at some distance horseman,
who had barred the road He stopped, un-
certain whether to go on or turn back.
Meanwhile the horseman advanced
toward him.


The Quaker could not even think of
escaping. He therefore put ON good
face, and brought his horse to walk. In
approaching the man who caused his
uneasiness, he perceived that he was
masked, grievous augury, which was
soon confirmed. The unknown showed
pistol and directed the muzzle to the trav-
eier, demanding his purse. The Quaker
dld not want courage, but, calm by charac-
ter, lnoffensive by religion, and even
unable without arms to resist an armed
man, he pulled from his pocket very coolly
purse containing twelve guineas. The
robber took it, counted the pieces, and left
he. poor devil whom he had stopped to
pass on, while he put his horse to the
trot But the robber, seeing the slight
resistance he had opposed, and allured by
the hope of a second booty, Immediately
rejoined honest Toby, placed himself
anew In his way, and presenting his pistol
as before, cried out to him:


Your watchr


The Quaker, surprised, was nevertheless
unmoved. He coolly took his watch from
the fob, looked at the hour, and put the
costly article into the hand of the robber,
saying:


"Now, bsseech thee, permit me to go
to my dweI1ing-my daughter will be
uneasy at my absence"


"a moment more" replied the masked
cavalier, the more and more hardened by
this docility; "swear to me that you have
no other sum"


II never swear" said the Quaker.


Very well. Affirm that you have no
other money, and on the faith Of an hon
est robber, incapable of taking by Yio-
lence from man who yields witlaso good
a grace, will let you continue on your
journey"


The Quaker reflected moment and
shook his head.


"What thinkest thou" he said gravely,
thou hast discovered that am Quaker,
and will not betray the truth, though at
the peril Of my life. Thus l declare TO
thee that have under my saddle cloth a
sum of two hundred pounds sterling"


1.-Two hundred pounds sterlingl" cried
the robber, while his eyes sparkled through
his mask.


"But ii thou art as good as thou art
kind" replied the Quaker, thou wilt leave
me this money. l wish to establish INV
daughter, and this sum is necessary; for q
long time / shall not have similar sum
at my disposal. The dear child loVeth her
intended, and it will be cruel to delay this
union. Thou hast loved, peradventure,
and thou wouldst not commit this wicked
act" -I....


"What care 1 for your daughter, and
her lover, and her marriAgel Less talk,
and more promptitude Of executionl j
must have this money"


Toby, with sigh, lifted the cloth, took
bag heavy enough, and passed it slowly
to the masked man. His intention then
was to gallop off


"stop again, friend Quaker" said the
other, laying his hand upon the bride
as soon as you arrive, you will denouncs
me TO the magistrates. This is according
to your order. l have nothing 10 say
but must have the advance OF the pro
cess OF tonight, at least. My mare is feeble
and is, besides, atigued. Your horse, OF
the contrary, appears vigorous, for thu
weight of this bag does not incommod'
him. Alight and give me your beast /; Vol
may take nine II you VIII"