WM. BREWSTER, EDITOR & PROPRIETOR.
(Stied Sim.
[FROM THE OLIVE tAANEI/.]
BOMELY' MARY, 1
-•OR
`THE 'USELESS DAUGHTER.
BY ICATR CARROLL.
ELLEN is a magnificent girl, Mrs. Sten. '
lowe. There is not another in Belton
that can compare with her,' said Mrs Carl.
ton, looking with deep admiration upon the
retreating form of a young lady in the gar
den attached to the home where the two
matrons were knitting.
'She is,' said Mrs. Stenlowe, in a tone
filled with maternal satisfaction, Itt.t eyes
also following the fair girl, 'she is, I hard-
Jy
•
know what I should do without her,' and
tears came with the words 'without her•'
'So accomp!ished, elegant in lorm.
fuci
mating in manner, awiable and beautiful,
what may you not expect for her in a ma
trimonial connection.'
'Sure enough. But I cannot think of
thnt yet, I should miss hir so. I wish it
were not so odious a thing to be an old
maid I'
'Were it not you'd prevail on her to be
one?
.Yee, for the sake o: keeping her Ishii
'Fie, fie I Mrs. Stenlowe ! You are sel
ash, Ellen should be married, she would
be such an ornament to a man and act tb•
Eshinent worthy of het.'
•She would, indeed,' said the mother,
whose face brightened es Ellen turned and
walked towards th- house, which she soon
entered, and with the former rerdered the
afternoon visit of their guest very plea.
last.
'Sapper Is ready, ladies.' said a low, ti.
mid voice, just as the tall, old corner tune.
piece struck five.
.That's Mary, I believe. . How d'ye do,
Mary I' came very indifferently from the
lips of the lady who had been nearly the
whole afternoon rhenain s j oatses of
'Quite well, ma'am, how is your health?'
sod :Nary paused a moment, nspecifully
.waiting an an.wer.
qiicely. He,gho I (turning to Ellen,)
bow sleepy on is after a late night. You
attended the concert ?'
.1 did, . Was it not divine' I was in re
gions of Puradisical glory.'
'How eloquent you are George Raw
you there,' with a smile.
'Yea, we exchanged nods. Who was
the gentleman with him T A splendid
looking man, by the way I'
ills is, and with a character as perfect.
lie is Charles Kingnian—'
'Of New York I—tne eloquent young
clergyman, that religious, and indeed, all
papers are raving over ?'
'The name. He is not married,' with
a meaning smile.
Ellen would :la ask , was he pledged.
but wished to.
'Nor .engaged,' added Mrs• Carleton,
with another smile, as she seated herself at
the almost literally 'groaning
'Mary, if there is room you can sit. Op
posite Mrs. Carleton you can place a
chair.'
'Yes, ina'ain,' and a smile of unaffected
pleasure broke over the girl's face.
A face by no means beautiful, nor oven
pretty, but full of a homely interest pecu
liarly ite own. Nor was her form a bit
prettier, and whatever there might have
been about it to relieve it of the charge of
downright ugliness, was entirely conceal
by a long, narrow. high-necked check tire
that made her look like a perambulating
14,11 sack, or any similar inelegant thing
'Don't settle down in such a bunch,'
said Ellen, in a peremptory mono .r, na
Mary, apparently forgetful of everything
about her, with bending figure and hands
clasped on her lap, had fallen into a reve
rie.
The words of Mrs. Carleton had moved
the still waters of Mary's soul, until like
a turbiilent stream they threatened to over.
throw her peace of mind, and fill it with
strange, unhappy disquiet.
'I had forgotten my poor habit of making
myself a fright,' said Mary, with an at-
tempt at a smile.
•It's so disagreeable to be forever promp
ting and prompting, adrled Ellen, knitting
her beautifully arched brows, and snapping
out each word.
'lt is, Ellen. I'm sorry I asked Mary to
sup at our table. Does she disturb you,
Alm Carleton 1'
'Not in the least, Mrs. Stenlowe,' said
the lady appealed to, repeating immediate
ly after the words thnt had occasioned
Mary her reprimand.
'Why will she say that again,' thought
Mary, cowering in epirit, and longing to
►hib her files from mortal pa.
ttlllit . 11A bail il'litili.! ,',; L
'Beauty is loved for itself. ft is a glori
ous gift, Heaven never sent to earth great.
er. Love seeks ;t as naturally as flowers
the sunlight. Ah, Elk) ! what may you
not do with your peerle's face and match
less form,' said Mrs. Carleton, for the third
time. •
With a toss of her jetty curls, Ellen
simperingly thanked the wholesale dealer
in flattery, while Mary, with more un
kindneEs in her heart than was ev,r there
before, moodily thought—'Mrs. Carleton is
a woman of repitnion, and consequently
much of a bore.'
Her conscience instantly reproached her
for forming such ill-tempered judgment,
while she became aware that her face wore
crimson for her sin. Poor Mary essayed
to hide her painful blushes by taking deep
draughts of tea that hull 'choked her.
'What a guzzling !' was the next ele•
gout observation from E len's coral lips.—
Even Mrs. Carleton's love for brainy could
not blind her to a belief that this was a per
fect sentence. But not only Ellen, but
the two matrons lonked reprovingly at
Mnry, who to
'Please excuse me from the tal le.'
'At once !' sternly replied Mrs. Sten-
'What a relief!' said Ellen, with a lor.g
breath,
'How diflerent,' observed Mrs. Carleton
, 1 never shall be anything,' sighed Mary
as once more in the long, dark kitch?n,
she leaned her head on the dresser and
cried, 'I thall never be anything! Other
penple can be something without trying a
bit! Oh, dear !I wonder why I sus born!'
'Mary, bring more hot water,' called
Mrs. Stenlowe.
glow can I show myself with such red
eyes, and disordered hair!' Yet Mary
quickly calmed herself, and obeyed the
older, and then quickly retreated to the
kitchen.
'Did you notice her eyes, mother r
'Yes, Ellen,' said Nirs, Steniorve, sha,
14,,,s
'flow different,' repented Mrs, Carleton,
with the deepest commiseration depicted
in her look and tone.
'So apt to mope round with watery eyes,'
sighed Mrs, Stenlowe, passing preserve! a
third time to her guest, who was famous
fur slipping pleasantly through life by min.
istering to the vanities nod weaknosses of
her acqUaintances—in fact, riding prosper
nits port. while wrecks laid behind
and around her.
'George will call for me,' she observed,
at length, sitting back in her chair.
'Why did he not come to tea, asked
Mrs. Carleton.
"Because he and Mr. Kingman were
engngrd. I forgot to ask where."
"I wish butte had collie,' thought Ellen.
"Ile would have boon charmed with
these cream cakes. Ile's very fond of
them. Did you make them 2"
~ oh, no, Mary did," said Mrs. Carle
ton.
"This plum cake is the nicest I ever
tasted. You must have made it !"
"Wrong again; Mary did. I have more
important things to attend to, Such that
do not lie to her capacity.'
'And did she make these preserves ?"
'Yes'ai, and everything on the table,
even to the cover itself.'
'She's something of a wonder. thought
the cover as important one. Sae's some.
thing of a wonder. Very good help, or
pretty good, aren't she 1'
Ellen laughed, and said her tastes were
not in the neighborhood of iron pots, brit*
scent and spinning wheels. For her port
she was glad to know that she had a soul
above such occupations. As she spoke
her eyes sparkled, and her elieek took a
richer hue, for she thought she was speak
ing wittily end sensibly. Her mother
looked proudly upon her, and thanked
Providence for the gift of so beautiful and
wise a daughter.
'What, latle daisy, crying hear alonek!
My sakes, where is your mother, that she
is'nt wiping your eyes, end asking what
made the tears come ?' said a rough, good
looking farmer, entering the back porch
and looking into the kitchen, lean rug on a
dresser of which was Mary silently weep.
mg.
'Hush! father, mother has company.'
whispered Mary, going to the pump just
outsioe the dour, and filling a basin with
cool water, webbed her eyes and then re.
turned to the kt'chen which her lathe• waa
moodily pacing.
'Company ? Who is it 1' he paused to
ask.
'Mrs. Carleton—'
'1 s'pose no—ipecac and flattery! El
len ie of course in her element.'
'She is SO beautiful,' interposed Mary,
extenultingly.
Likes tulip—great show,
" LIBERTY AND UNION, NOW AND FOREVER, ONE AND INSEPARABLE. "
but no sweetness. Whew ! that boarding
school and your umber's flattery have ru
ined the girl.'
.0, no, no! she's so beautiful !'
'Now, you silly, tittle chit, the notion
that there's nothing under the sun like
human beau-y, has been drilled into you
until ?nu have very probably wished you
could hide your face in the earth like a
mole ! 83y, haven't you?' and the farm,
held her close to his graze, a rough hand
on each shrinking, blue checked dhoti!.
der.
Mary could not deny that some such
wish had crossed her mind.
I knew it.'
.But I am so ugly, it must be painful to
look at me. S ill, I can't help my face ;
wo.eld if I could. I've tried to improve it,
indeei I have
s'pose so, by working over the fire
till you've blistered It—by dappling in hot
water till you've parboiled it—hy permit.
tiny your hair to be cropped till your neck
is brown as a mulatto—by working out in
the sun to please certain selfish beings 1
could limo, till you've planted a fine ha
of freckles='till yon are no longer my
daisy, but on ugly tiger ily.'
'O, father ! how can you
'Don't you know pet, (Mary laughed
gently as he said it) my pet. What is
there funny in your being that? Well, to
roceed (ha was about to seat himself
and draw her to a perch on his knee.) you
might to know—'
, What? that you ought to go in to sup
per V funnily interposed Mury, s elipping
away.
!When they ate done, yes. Then, Hale
Molly, we'll go in together. Until then
h , re, you monlcey ! sit OD toy knee--I
wont to drive the conviction into that hr,tin
of yours that you have certain rights of
sour ',wit shot you oug t to respect, and
make others respect.'
Mary opened wide her eyes, and naked
You have, I should hove
told you this before, had I suspected you
were unha t tpy under the yoke. Thank
you for giving toe u glimpse of your sly
lotus.'
I didn't want you to find is out.' 'Alary
bid her face on his breast.
•I oar en, fearing I ; ton, woule Le un
happy. lam.'
'You shouldn't bs. I shoot
fluity toity ! why r
'Because I urr► ugly, and arn't smart and
gifted like Ellen, u-d lum only fit to do
c mutton things—'
'C'ul•:le rol, de-ri do!'
0, but I ant% . You must see it I.—no
thing 'uut your useless daughter!'
At this anouncement Mary broke down
and sobbed without restraint.
•Now, by the powers !—, f my wire
shouldn't be hung for ifanticide, no woman
ever ought to have been !' said the former
clasping the girl more closely in his arms
and hissing proudly her forehead.
.Mary, little darling, look up! You're
the only one of the family worth the sec
ond thought of a true soul ! You're a liv
lag illustration of patience, virtue, piety,
forbearance and genius, yes, I repent it,
(perceiving you'roabout to pronounce de.
nial,) and genius. Who has taken the
pains to touch you anything but drudgery?
and yet how touch you know ! You sup.
pose I'm blind, I dare say, and cannot see
the way you tie a ooquet, arrangit the full
of curtain, set a table, furnish a closet, put
a bonnet on—if it is a 'neon affitir, I' has
the grace of the artist; and—now listen,
pet—and make verses. 'there, now it's
till out!'
.[low did you know it ? But they
aren't verses r and Mary again hid her
heud, but this time to hide her blushes.
They are. genuine verses, such ne Mil
ton himself might have been proud of.'
'O, father. now you are a flatterer !
Milton's genius was too grand to bring
forth such weak things as my fancy would.
'Hum ! Well, I wont pretend to quarrel
with you ! To me they are better than
anythirg he ever wrote, especially his
Satan. who is too beautiful, I think, to be
held up as a bughear to a young or old
sinner. So you see that beauty.arirked
price of iniquity make Milton not quite an
perfect as be might have been as it poet.'
'Do you love poetry, father !' exclaimed
Mary, again raising her head and 'poking
earnestly into h's face.
'I do, when its the right sort. Why 1
Now out with it, if you've a question on
hand.'
.Mayn't wezrad it together these con
ing long winter evenings?'
To be sure.'
'ln this kitchen r
'Whew, why not in the eitting•room, or
parlor, wherever the family happen to
be ti
HL NTINGDON, PA., WEDNESDAY, APRIL 6, 1859
Because, because,' Mary begaa
. . _
'AI, I see. You think they'd laugh
at us, and deem you a trifle out of your
sphere.'
'Don't think so harshly of mother, she
can't help her dislike to ugly things, neith
er can Ellen,' coaxed Mary, whose gentle
heart was filled with regret over h , r tell.
tale tears, and sorrow that such resentment
filled her father's breast.
shall judge then' right, end be led by
the nose no longer. That's enough on
that subject. When shall we begin our
evenings with the poets?'
'As soon as you can. You'll know best
ft titer.'
•IVell, in this kitchen, you say. But
stvp, how would you like to have the bed.
room overhead cleared up, papered, paint
ed, carpeted, decently furnished with maps
tokca,e, a lounge or two, stove and , eri
sing table'!'
0, that tvould be too delightful! But,'
Mary's countenance fell.
'But you Oink furmus objections will
be raised. Dmit worry nor cry. Trust
to me. The room shall be improved, du
voted to our purpose, and given to you for
your little sanctum where you can read,
study. and make verses as you like. You
the useless daughter! Humph !so •aseless
that I couldn't het an hour away from
you,,
'Do you renlly love .ne en 9' a,ked Ma.
ry. in times of mingled joy, hope, surprise
and doubt.
It had been n glad quarter hour to her.
As never before her father's eyes and
soul lino been open to her needs! How
truly glad and thankful was he for those
tvars. How rejoiced that he enteted
dine to see such intentions! signs of Mis
ery. • And how he did wish dint mothers
would out set up household idols, and en.
courni,e ten drinking gossips with tongues
reeking flitter; and dissenvo.
'Why doh% you set the table anew for
Mr 01....1 s' • I
appearing suddenly 'Von the scene
in the kitchen, and eyeing sharply the ac•
tors.
'Well, little pet. I'll let you down long
enough for that. Mind you set two cups,
plates, knives. &c.; you're to he my lit
tle ten pourer said Mr. Stenlowe, with
point and firmness, as Mary, a little afraid
Blipped off.
•Of course she is to pour ou' your ten,
as you didn't come in time to have sup
per with Ellen. the company and me.'
'l'm glad on't ! I'm saved one infliction.
I don't encourage gossip !'
'My—why, what has taken ,tosmession
of you ! What would Mrs Carleton soy
to such a libel
.Nothing like the truth, wage! Oh!
she is as talsa—as false—'
'Never 'mad finishing the sentence;
your comparison would be n mile from
the fact 1 dare soy ! I think her an incom
parable woman, quite' withoht an equal in
Belton '
I hen the men are to be most consumed
ly pitied
'We'll discuss that some oilier time, I
haven't (line now. After supper please
make yourself presentable, for Mr, George
Carleton and his friend, Mr. Kingman, of
New Yerk, am to call here to acciimpany
our visitors home.'
'l'll dress up—dont fret. I'd like to
see that smart young divine that is electri
fying people just now. HLI . 3 having his
day. Wife do you know every dog has
his day,' and Mr. Stenlowe rose at the
summons of Mary to partake of his sup
per, but walked slowly to look sternly iu•
to the face of his astonished wife, and ob
tain her answer.
'What ails the man 1'
'Oh, nothing ! I've only found out the
necessity of helping that animal to obtain
hie day !
And Mr. Ntenlowe passed into the next
room where Mary stni:ingly, yet half frigh
tened, awaited him.
'Sit down, pet. Ent heartily, or your
old father wtll lose his appetite, hungry
as he is !'
'Never fear; I feel like milking every
thing on the table disappear at a single
•'l'hat's right daisy. But (speaking low
er) didn't they allow you to sit with thew?'
pointing towards the purlor•door.
.oh, yes indeed.•
.No.evasion pet ! But whnt e fool I nin
in marrying the present pleasure. We'll
remember our little sanctum over the
kitchen '
.Mary, though very near crying, bright.
coed up, and smiled Again. But the meal
wea none of the Itoppien after all.
While Mr. Stenluwe was d.titking tea,
Ellen proposed to walk in the garden.
While there, she managed to soil her pret
ty bufl•tucked lawn aulely that she might
have en,excuee for npreertng, before the
expected gentlemen in an elegant white •ly see Ellen and you Lave conjured up al- 'She shall be lectured,' said Mrs. Sten
flounced, dotted muslin, that she consider. I ready. Hut I don't approve of exalting lowa.
cd particularly becoming to her.
! one chile rind crushing another—nor of 1 M. Kingman did not care to remain
Kingman little expected to see so per- one sister riding roughshod over the reel. I much longer. At the three were about
fect and well brad a beauty in his call nt I ings of another, and the better, by Jove.' ' to leave, Mrs. Carleton begged Ellen to
the old fashioned farm-house. Carleton 'Well, if you will mortify me. nod ran. come in to see her every day, if she would.
was not so deeply smitten. for he had long der Ellen miserable, and yourself a laugh. 'And little Mary too, you, should add,
ago glanced inside the benutiful casket, ! ing stock, Mr. Stenlowe, bring Mary in.' mother,' reminded her son, feeling quite
end seen how imperfect were the gems it '1 thought I could settle accounts with like assuaging his can ruffled feelings by
contained. I her,' said Mr. Stenlowe, laughing to him, giving the beauty a twinge, for her mark
'l wish I could hear Mr. Kingman talk.' self, as his wife's thin figure re entered ed neglect of him.
thought Mary, clearing away the dishes. the parlor. 'O, certainly, I had forgotten.'
At that moment, her father, sprueelv dres. 'Caine, Mary, never mind what she said 'Yet, indeed! she must surely come with
sed, came into the kitchen from his bed• She inwardly scorns the rough old farmer, I you. You mutt be very proud of such a
MOM beyond I too. Never care; we'll shine yet, Molly. I gifted little sister, Miss Stenlowe. There
'Hurry up, little pet. Come, hand me In our little sanctum, hey 1 I expect light are the elements of a great and glorious
n towel. I'll wipe the dishes; I want you enough for the whole world will stream I woman in her organization I' said Mr.
to prink up, too, and go in to have a chat abroad from it. Oh, little Molly, it's a Kingman.
with the grand young minister.' great thing to be a genius !' 'But such a useless daughter,' said Mrs.
'Why ? they—that is, I can't go in, I 'Bow can I wound him by refusal ! Stenlowe, whose pity for Ellen overran her
mean I'm too bashful,' said Mary. greatly Were 1 to, it would be but selfish cog. prudence.
overpowered. nix 'nee of my own ruptured feelings. L 'Useful, you mean, wifey !—you made
`You are going in. child. I'll help you,' will go Father shall not bete...imbed from n ntistake in the cloning ay liable of your
I said, such congenial society.' i adjective,' interposed Mr. Stenlowe, with a
'The towel will lint you. I can finish But it required a great deal of courage 1 provoking twinkle in his eye.
and dress in a hell en hour.' is spite of her resolution to cults her ! His wife looked unutterable things al
'Well then, if you won't let me help wounded spirit, and join her father at the' him.
vet,, I'll call for you at the expiration of foot of the stairs; yet she was nble at length I As aeon as the comparty had gone, swift
that time.' to do so. ! footsteps ascended the stairs leading to
'Oh, if I were but better looking ! I 'My youngest daughter,' said Mr. Sten. Mary's attic. She had ant at the narrow
wonder hew I do look I lle,s so sensible, 'ewe, fondly presenting Mary, who felt window full of high and holy thought, en.
I should like to have him think me not I I,ke shrinking into nothingoess as she met , tranced nt the vistons of happiness her vi.
quite a fright. One good thing, it is even- I the kind glance of Kingman's eyes—eyes, 1 vid imagination depicted, when In burst
ing ; I shell look the better fo r that as e- I too, that instantly nought the radiant face temple, human voices, so loud, angry and
vet Ellen says she is far handsomer by ! of Ellen. discordant, that she covered her face with
lamplight. I c o n sit in the shade, too, and 'He thinks ins a scarecrow, I knew he , her hands and shrank dismayed.
why need I care about me face, when real. , would. By way of indemnification, he ! 'There. Miss, we'll see if you'll put
ly all I want is to hear hi e , talk. I hope I had to turn to Ellen's beautiful counte. yourself in our beauty's way,' cried Mrs.
lather .d be will draw each other out.— nance,' sighed Mary mentally. Stenlowe, making, with a lisrsh head. a
Net iretny men can know Inure than fath- 'Sit here little pet,' said Mr, Stenlowe, red mark on the brown cheek of the child.
t'r ; yet he lie is a self tnught man !'
placing her beside him on a (berm in the
A h, let that cruel mother remember that
Stt.l, alter sett ing herself on the wish to corner,
Ellen
w.
blow in coining years.
glad her sister was so Gtr from
bear Mr. Kingman talk only, and not view of Mr. ICmgmno. When Mary en- 'O, mother,' sobbed Mary, dropping her
care about the want of beauty, poor Mary I tered, Elled had inwardly groaned, think. • head upon tier lap in her moo abject
would often, with a quiet sigh, lament her i it was elf up with her plan for who'd want grief.
I sm ' i Y i.e o n u
w n it e h ed 3 n 9 ' u t
; th h i e nk sa
i N d l b r..
c K aii ii t i d gm nu a t n en is .
Stich n queer looking relative.
lionilioess, or ugliness, as her mother and
Mary listened with thrills of joy to a
Ellen termed it.
conversed. between her father and Mr. i '
lice to promise beauty— pst.aw ! of course - Nengman,.._ft eggs_ on e r r ee e ee. a gi n ei , fieNtfrit'itiferlerhittili - ,' 'the chre'fc's cies
there can't bO—but decent looks when I fourteen, thought the latter, noting her,
d et•p
side interest. tv. .
fullf3tl t
of et i r n e s r t y ,
uc s u e o n n te s n m e: h
v e i n
newly smothed her short hair, and put . i
And Mary washed her face and hands,
on sobe r
ta! importance to one whose mind teas bun
a drab pant, very neat and plain, with gry for intellectual food.
high neck, and long eleven buttoned at the. As she listened, a yens.) of life in its ho•
Hest meaning, swelled
i high and exultant
wrist. She had no collar far her neck,
e xtern tocl of h n e e r h e i‘ f satesd g e re fi ate i i f nt s w ; l ttch
tn n
but did riot regret it much end then in i i r r i ), l :! c e a r
want of a gloss in hair own room she stole I mere external beauty of form and Nee.
down into Ellen's, and took a stealthy sue ! A pounce to do-..t0 acte.nye, and to suffer
vey of herself in the Itniidncrne mirror .if need lie, grandle, heroically, made known
there, its existence in her soul. 0, how gully
need alone. What
Wes she beautiful ?she longed ea moan
ti o ' l e uil n i l' i l e 'l l ' ii t s n e ' v l i ne ti n r t ti l r d a t u n in e lied fancy as
to be that her mental lips feinted the ques mid. g into the rosiest !inure that eno ‘ r v tel
lion, although she knew the utter intim- ever sketched. {low lustrous grew those
sibility of her receiving no affirmative. deep, Ivey eyes under their raven nrches
She 'mused, even turned her from the j and curling lashee. Arid what eloquent
mirror, for the tones of a full, rich, must- I t h h e ' r lu r g i, l , l" lip k : l n th r a is t in fr g ol nd ve p r l y a y i h n i r sh 7 t, T n u e ' , 'd s
cal voice rose to her ear. would not permit them to escape. At last
'What a voice. A h how wretchedly in hoe ever, one sentence, sl:ort, poetical,
significant he must deem tile. Oh. Ellen. beautiful, would find voice. But Mary
, t i s!ntly frightened.
ta• tremble so, darling. Speak
Ellen if you could spare me but a tithe of g rew
your matchless beauty. : o instantly
when you please,' encouraged Mr. Sten•
The more she listened, the more intence love pressing her fondly to his side.
became her longing for the gift Nature I That „„,,, ice.
had denied her, What were the vapid nothings exqui-
Der whole mind and soul were full of
site plaything, and beautiful face of Ellen
the question. Somehow the mirror did
to be compared with it ? Nothing. The
not give her the satisfactlon that a clear, proud beauty has had her day. She had
sunny pool of water had many a time, been weighed in the scales and found wan•
when, as nonn, she had seen a childish. i fl og. .
brown, and freckled face, that sore would
Mr. Kingman looked looked long and
think of calling beautiful. True there
were brows dark, arched even, and pen-- earnestly nt the shy little speaker. Could
he heleive his own ears. It sceemed ha•
tilled with ear . perfectness, eyes lunge,
possible, she was so notes a thing.
grey and melting, a nose not exactly mod
'l wit: draw her out again.' he retained,
el far a sculptor, hut still very passable in
and he did.
its way. Iler cheeks, though brown as a
.Truly he is a magnet,' sighed Mary,
berry, were round end pretty if the glance
frightened at her inability to keep quiet.
of maternal love could have seen it, and
Ah, how prtudly her father's heart steel.
her mouth if wide and full of decayed. lea, an he clasped her hard, brown little
struggling teeth, had red, curved lips, and imnd
a round dimpled chin bedrath. Her
throat, too, was round and graceful to out• gen% it Limo for Mary to go to bed?'
whispered Ellen, uneasily watching Mr.
line. But Mary turned away, aura that
she was nothieg less than an unmitigated Kingman ns he crossed the rosin, and ec•
wally crowded upon that divine in the
fright. She had a mind to run into her
attic and go to bed. center beside the farmer.
'lt is,' said Mrs. I tuition, who then ad
ded—
father from the batten% of the stairs, 'Come I *Mary, your bed hour lies arrived.'
lain waltitig. 1 'Yes, ma'am; said the child, half cry.
Mary [mused to give a final touch to int
extended arid
_
ngrnan took in a warm clasp
her simple preparations. As she did so,
' Mrt.le te
hand, l so bashfully
her mother came into the entry, and said the le
lc a quick, low voice— and said— -
.I hope Miss Mary, 1 shall frequently
'Mary is not to euter the parlor, Mr- see you during my visit in this town '
Stenlowe. She almost mortified Ellen to He waited for her assent. She did not
at the table by her gaucheries I fairly der of site
steams chained Itti
had to send her oil.' I'
'She it ;II be glad to meet you often, sir.
'Caine leer called Mr. Stenlowe, not I My little daisy is too bashful by half,' sued
minding his wife. Mr. Stenlowe, comprehending the cause
.1 guess not, father. Indeed, lam not
of her silence.
'The most sweetly natural little girl, l'•
fit to appear before such people,' replied
ve met in an age '
' said Mr. Kingman,
Mary, brokenly. when Mary had bidden him and the rest
'lt's your doings, wife. All of it it, if ,of the company, a timid good night.
Mary cannot enter the parlor, I shall not; Mrs Stenlowe and Ellen exchanged
and you may excuse miry impoliteness in ! glances. -
nn? way you please to Mr. Kingman. I -What monstrous impudence in her,'
Such a proceeding on my part, might ma. I whispered Ellen, when Mr. Kingman was
aerially interfere with plane that I can plain again earnestly engaged with her father,
VOL. XXIV. NO. 14,
Did he truly say that 7' gasped Mary.
"l's be sure. iVhat ease should you ex.
pact ?
Mary groaned aloud. Her rosy future
,%rts clouded. Why hod she eared to hope
a friend in the gifted young clergyman 1
The next evening Mr Kingman called.
He asked for Mary, but she did not ap
pear, although Mrs. Stenlowe went out as
ii to call her.
'She is •'ery odd,' said that lady return
'Oh. dear, it is such a trial to me.' sigh ,
ed Ellen.
Nlary odd t I thought h 1. quits
perfect in spirit,' said George Carleton,
wickedly.
Mr. K•ngrnon pondered. He sew there
was a wrong lying at scinebody's gale.—
And it could not bn the proud. whole•soul
od farmer ! Not he. And the clergyman
unconsciously looked sea•chingly into the
Indian' face of the beauty. The farmer
went to a distant market early in the mor
ning, and had not yet returned. Before
the gentleman left, however, his cheerful
voice was heard in the yard.
.Beauty, beauty. come out here.' he
cried.
Ellen went at the call.
4Pho; not you. My pet little daisy.--
Where is she ?'
'ln one of her ndd Ets, father,' said El•
len, with a sigh loud enough to reach her
guests,
'I guess so. Go in El. I'll call net,'
and he gave the beauty a quissiog look,
and waved her comically towards the par
lor.
'Cone down daisy, and see what I've
brought you r he coiled, springing from
his wagon. and knocking with his whip.
handle upon the balusters of the back stairs
.What is it, hither 1'
'Come down from your dove-cote of a
perch.'
'Will any body see me if 1 do ?' said
Mary, stealing like a crimnal over the
attire.
•Whot if they da 1 Who cares for any•
body? not you our me, pet. Not you nor
'But he said he hated bold, forward
girls,' sobbed Mary clinging desponding
ly to her father.
'lie? Who's he 1•
'Mr. Kinginniy came huskily. •
'When 1•
.Lest evening when 1 lelt the room..
'No such thing. Ile said ho bean%
met such a sweetly natural a child of an
age. There's a leather iu your cap, lit•
tie Molly. Look up.'
liut she only hid her face the more.
'Nov coin, and see the ',ginning of
our little sanctum,. And the fanner led
the way to his wsgon in the bottom of
which were twenty yards of wollen carpet
lig . a bundle of room paper, a writing pa-
per, a room table, one dozen of new
books, and a pretty inabooty case for
theta.
•Quite a beginning, isn't a pet?'
Mary did not answer, but threw hat
arms around bit neck, and kited him