Year: 1859

'sThe boys mustn't look at the girls, and the
girls must look on their books,'' was said at
least u dozen times by the village school-mas-
ter, on that stormy morning when Cora Blanch-
ard and I-she in her brothers. boots, and in
NV fathers socks-waded through di lift after
drift of snow, to the old brown school-house
at the foot of the long, steep hill.


We were the only girls that dared to brave
the wintry storm, and we felt amply repaid for
our trouble when we saw how much attention
we received from the ten tall boys who had
come-come for fun-some because they saw
Cora Blanchard go by, and one, Walter Beau
mont, because he did not wish TO lose the les
of the day. Our teacher, Mr.. Gannis, was
fitting him for college, and every moment was
precious to the white browed, intellectual stu
dent who was quite lion among us girls, part
ly because he was older, and partly because he
never noticed us as much as did the other boys.
On this occasion, however, he was quite atten-
tive TO Cora, at least pulling off her boots, re-
moving her hood, and brushing the large snow
flakes from her soft, wavy hair, while her dark
brown eyes smiled gratefully upon him, as he
gave her his warm seat at the stove.


That morning Cora wrote ME silly on the
slate SCI don't care if mother does say Wal
ter Beaumont is as 'poor as poverty'-l like
him best of anybody in the world, don't you 2


thought OF the big red apple in my pock-
ct, and the boy who had SO carefully shaken
the snow off my fathers socks, and answered
A'NO. thinking the Wllle Inat SlOuIu say
ssGes,' If Walter had ever treated me as he did
my playmate and friend, Cora Blanchard. She
was beautiful young girl, favorite with all,
and possessing, as it seemed, but one garing
fdult-a proneness to estimate people by their
wealth rather than their worth. This, in a
measure, was the result of long training for
her family, though far from being rich, were
very aristocratic. and strove to keep their chill
dren as much as possible from associating with
the ssvulgar herd,'' as they styled the labor
ing class of community


In her secret heart, Cora had long since
cherished preference for Walter, though
never until the morning of which write, had
il been so plainly avowed. And Walter, too,
knowing how far above him she in point
of position, had dared TO dream of a time
when a brig haired woman, with a face much
like that OF the girlish Cora, would gladden.
his home whatever it might be.


That noon, as sat around the glowing
fire, we played as children will, and it came
my turn to ssaDswer truly whom intended to
marry.'' Without thought of the big apple,
the snowy socks, or any one IN particular, L
replied unI,esitatingly ssthe one love best -
and the question passed on to Cora, who was
sitting by the side of Walter Beaumont. He
had not Joined in our sport, but now his eye
left his book ard rested upon Cora, with an
expression half cxpectant. She, too, glanced
at him, and, as if the prophecy were upon her,
she said, 81 shall not marry the one love
the BEST but the one who has the most money
and can give me the most diamonds. Sister
Fanny has a magnificent set, and she looks So
beautiful when she wears them"


Instantly there fell shadow on Walter
Beaumont's face, and his eye returned again
10 the Latin lettered page. But his thoughts
were not of what was written there he was
thinking of the humble cottage on the borders
of the wood of the rag carpet on the oaken
floor of the plain old fashioned furniture, and
oi the gentle loving woman who called him mel
bow and that spot her home. There were nc
diamonds there-no money; and Cora, Tor L
she married. she would never be his wife.


Early and late he toiled and studied wearing
his threadbare coat and coarse, brown pants
TOR an education, such as he must have, admit
ted of no more expenditure and the costly
gems that Cora craved were not his to give
In the pure, unselfish love springing up for hel
within his heart there diamonds of i'm
pcrishable value and these, together with the
name he would make for himself, he would of
fer her, but nothing more; and for many weeks
there was shadow on his brow, though he wa:
kind and considerate to her as OF old


AS the spring and summer glided by, how
ever there came change; ana wheE, In ths
autumn, he left our village for New haven
there happy, joyous look on MS ,1: iaee
while a tress Of Cora's silken hair was lying
next his heart. Every week ne wrote 10 nei
and Cora answered, always showing me VIVA
she had written, but never word oil ms.


ssThere was too much love-" she SAID, "to'
much good advice in his letters Tor me y
see;'' and thus the time passed on, until " d,
ter, who had entered Junior class, was grau
uated with honor, and was about to commence
a theological course at Andoycr, for he ha'
made the ministry his choice.


Walter was twenty-one now, and Cora wa
sixteen. Wondrously beautiful was she t