Year: 1879

tTOCk anu mOEOCCO SHOES, TOCk-
ing a cradle in which reposed a
sunny-haired, blue-eyed baby, not
quite a year old. That boy was
myself-Harry Church; that baby
Mary Moore.


Later still see myself at the old
school house. drawing my little
ohaise up to the door that Mary
might ride home. Many beating
have 1 gained on such occasions,
for other boys besides me liked her,
and she, I fear, was something of q
dirt, even in her pianofore. How
elegantly she came tripping down
the steps when / called her name;
how sweetly her blue eyes looked at
me; how gaily rang out her merry
laugh. No one but Mary could
ever bring her heart so near her
lips. / followed that laugh from
the days of my childhood till l
grew an awkward, blushing youth /;
followed it through the heated noon
of manhood; and now when the
frosts of age are silvering my hair,
and many children climb upon my
knees and call me father find
that the memories of youth are
strong, and that even in my gray
hairs am following the music still.


When 1 was fifteen the first great
sorrow of nay life came upon my
breast. ] was sent away to school,
and was obliged to part with Mary.
II "a nf 60 q
three long years. This to me was
like sentence to death, for Mary
was like life itself to me. But hearts
are tough things after all.


left college in all the flush of
my nineteenth year. 1 was no
longer awkward or embarrassed. 1
had grown into a tall, slender strip
ling. with very good opinion of
myself both in general and in par
ticular. If / thought of Mary
Moore, it was how i could dazzle
and bewilder her with my good
looks and wonderful mental attain
ments, and never thinking that she
might dazzle me still more. / was
coxcomb, ! know, but as youth
aud good looks have fed, trust
that may be believed when L say
that self conceit has left me also.


An advantageous proposal was
made at that time, and accepting il
1 gave up all idea of a profession
and prepared to go to India. In
my hurried visit home of two days
l saw nothing of Mary Moore. She
had gone to boarding school al
some distance, and was not expect
ed home until the following May
/ uttered a sigh to the memory o.
my little blue-eyed playmate, anC
then called myself ga man again


In a year, thought, as the vehi
Gle whirled away from our door
will return, and If Mary is as pretty
as she used to be, why then, per
haps 1 may marry her.


| And thus i settled the fortune o
young lady whom I had not seer
1 for four. years. never thought o
the possibility of her refusing me
never dreamed that she would no
condescend to accept my offer.
But now 1 know that had Mary
met me then she would have de
spised me. Perhaps in the scented
and affected student she might have
found plenty of sport; but as for
loving me. L should perhaps have
found myself mistaken. India was
my salvation, not merely because
of my success, but because my laoo-
rious industry had counteracted the
| evil OF my nature and had made me
better man. When at the end OF
three years / prepared to return, /
said nothing of the reformation of
myself, which l knew had taken
place. They loved me as 1 was, 1
murmured to myself. and they shall
find out for themselves whether
am better worth loving than for
merly,


picked up many a token from
that land of romance ami gold for
the friends 1 hoped to meet. The
gift for Mary Moore / selected with
a beating heart; it was ring Of
rough virgin gold, with my name
and hers engraved inside-that was
all, and yet the sight of the little
toy strangely thrilled me as / bal
anced it ON the tip of my finger.


To the eyes of others it was but a
a small plain circle, suggesting
thoughts perhaps by it's elegance of
the beautiful white hand that was
to wear it. But not TO mellow
much was embodied there-all these
delights were hidden in that little
ring of gold.


Tall, bearded, and sun -bronzed, j
knocked at my fathers house. The
lights in the parlor window, and the
hum of conversation and cheerful
laughter, showed me that company
had assembled there. / hoped that
sister Lizzie would come to the
door, and / might greet my family
when no strange eye was looking
carelessly on.


But no, q servant answered my
summons. They were two merry
in the parlor to heed the long alb
sent one who asked for admittance.
a bitter thought like this ran
through my mind as / heard the
sound from the parlor, and saw the
half-suppressed smile on the serv
ants face.


1 hesitated a moment before max
ing myself known or asking for any
of my family. And while / stood
silent strange apparition grew up
before me; from behind the servant
peered out a golden head, a tiny,
delicate form and sweet childish face
with blue eyes, so like those of one
who had frightened my boyhood,
that / started with q sudden feeling
of pain.


"What is your name, my prettyY'
1 asked, while the wondering serv-
ant held the door.


"Mary Moore"


"And what elseP' asked quick
ly.


She lifted up her hands to shade
her face. / had seen that very atti-
tude in another in my boyhood
many and many a time-and an
swered in a sweet bird like voice.


"Mary Moore Chester.n


Ny heart sank down like lead.
Here was an end to al bright dreams
and hopes of my youth and man
1 u