Year: 1865

or maidenly. She has chosen for her protector
on of more mature Judgment, and am very
glad of it.


"Rose,' cried, sis this true2v Have you OF
your own free will, chosen himT


"My father has commanded me, was the an
swer, "and must obey


turned from her and fed from the room and
the house, and blind with grief and indignation.


"She is not what l thought her" l said
"She has been won by gold. Ny poverty has
lost her to me-"


Yet loved her still. and the world seemed
dark and desolate. hated the broad sunlight
and the calm twilight and the hour when the
moon, broad and yellow, arose behind the pur-
pie hills. had thought of wandering away
and hiding myself from the eye of mortal man, F,
and was thankful that excitement made me re-
ally so tlat on the Sunday of the wedding
had apqGe excuse for deserving my pulpit, and
having procured substitute, spending the day
in my own room. This at least was my nGen-
/ tion, but as the hours crept on, an influence
which found it impossible for me to resist,
urged me to leave the house and go across the
fields, and through the village to the church
where Rose was to be married, and witness the
ceremony. / think was feyerish, almost de-
lirious. Surely wise judgment would have
led me to any other spot IN the universe. But
went


1t was winter day, and the snow lay thickly
/
roofs and clung to the tall spire, from which
the bell rang clear and sharp upon the frosty
air. listened to it; fsurey" | said, "some
awkward hand is at the rope. 1t is more like
the peal tolled for the dead than rung for mer-
ry wedding" But this might have been my
| fancy, for everything looked dark to me that
! day. | knew this was SO, for as sat in a shell
tered part of the gallery looking down, those
who came in seemed to wear sad countenances
and to exchange mournful whispers, yet still
the thought that it was more like funeral than
a wedding would creep across my mind. "ADd
/ so it is" thought ''the funeral of the bright
est bopes-of every mournfu dream viii ;h l
have cherished" M


Then there was whisper stir. The bride
was coming. | should see her again. Ceuld 1
bear it I strained my eyes, How slowly they
came-how graycly heads were bent; and they
were dressed in black-in black, every one of
them. Was | going mad2 l saw old Deacon
Olmstead-I saw Benjamin Bitterworth. And
what was this Oh, merciful Heavens The
bride was coming, not in bridal wreath and VEIL
blushing and beautiful, but cold and white as
marble, lying Beneath that sable pail, notion
less, sghtless deaf to words of earthly love for
eYermore Rose Olmstead was dead.


They who lifted me from the floor where
had fallen, told ne that she had died the night
| before; that she had been failing for the last
few days, and that on that night she had risen
and knelt down to pray, it was believed, for
they found her kneeling with her face upon her
hands quite dead "Her heart is broken" the
doctors said and believed them.


very i'll after this-so i'll that they
thought must die. But death chose who were
happier, and left me and | dwell now in the
same old place, where l can sit beside my dar-
ling's grave in the twilight of the Sabbath eve;
an old man weary with the weight Of years. Yet
shall be young again some time-young and
happy in heaven with my lost one