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he never dared to lay violent - wiolent, “Sure enough, what is the use I mean -hands onto you!”

on 't?” says John. “Dear me, how my heart wibrates !“Why, it's no use," she answers; says the woman, — "not so much with “it's wanity and wexation ! that's what the memory of what I have suffered as it is!” that — that anybody should manifest “Wanity and wexation !” he repeats. such a — such a wery kind feeling to- And then she says, if anybody had ward me now !”

ever showed a warm heart toward her, “ How anybody that seen you should she id 'a' been a different woman to 'a' helpt from doin' on 't,” says the what she is. boatman, "is awful curus to me!” “A different woman !” says John.

“ Law mercy, how selfish I am, “How different to what you be?" He never offering you a seat all this could not conceive of the possibility of while !” says the artful woman. And a difference for the better. she hitched along, and smoothed out “Why, I would 'a' been ten year the jacket.

younger and ten year smarter,” says “Well, whatever your trouble 's been,” the widow, “and then may be somesays John, “I hope your red on 't!” body might 'a' took a notion to me!

It was an ingenious method of saying Who knows? We women never cease he hoped the vagabond was out of the to hope, you know ! way.

" And hev n't they, as 't is?” says He turned toward her as he spoke, John, eagerly bending toward her. and the wind once more fluttered the “What a saucy Captain you are, to gay ribbons in his face. She lifted her ask me such questions !” — and she put hand to raw them back. “Don't you him gently back with her white hand. be a-mindin' on 'em,” says John; “they “ But here we are almost ashore !" 're just as sweet as rose-leaves, and I and she began gathering up her bandlike to hev em a-blowin' over me so." boxes and paper parcels with great

You may smile, reader, if you will, energy but you would not smile if you had seen “I thought you said you was a-goin' the soul yearning in the eyes of the to take my advice?” says John, with man, if you had heard the pleading a soft reproach in his voice. in the sad sincerity of his tone. He “ Did I ? O, then I will !" she anwas fifty years old now, and I dare say swers, with the most innocent air' possia woman's ribbon had never touched ble, and leaning quite across his knee him till then. He was wrinkled and to replace one of her boxes. “What is gray, and old to look upon, but his your adwice, now? But you must bear heart in its tender sentiment was as in mind the walue of the welwets. I've fresh and young as a boy's.

one bonnet in the lot, of a wermilion So, with the ribbons fluttering on his color, that's worth a wast deal; and cheek, and his boat drifting as it would, you know welivet, when it's once wet, John Chidlaw listened to the story of looks just like a drownded cat. No the woman's life, and as Desdemona dressing can make anything of it. Some lored the Moor for the dangers he had ladies wears it, but my ladies does n't.” passed, so he loved her for the sorrows “I never knew clouds look like them," she had borne.

says John, “ when it did n't pour; and, “ Yes, Captain,” she says, my trou if you take my adwice, you 'll stay just lles is over now, pretty much. I've where you be.” been a widder this ten year,” — (he " I'll take your adwice,” says the hitched a little closer,) — “I've been widow, touching his hand lightly with a widder, and I've had peace o’mind, her soft fingers, and smiling upon him and I 've laid up money; but, law me with that unpremeditated coquetry that when a body has nobody to lay up for, always makes a woman charming. It what's the use ?”

was especially charming to this man, for no woman had ever smiled upon him days, and lost all my wiwacity, and like that; and then to think she had come to be the sober, staid old woman asked and accepted his advice, withal! you see me.” It was enough to turn his head, and it "Old woman, to be sure !” says did.

John. “Why, nobody would think o' " I'll take your adwice, Captain," she callin' you old. You look aʼmost like a says, “and keep the welwets dry, for it girl o'sixteen to me!” would cost a pretty penny to replace “O Captain !” says the widow ; and that wermilion, to be sure! I shall lose then she says his sight must be failsome time by it; and time is money. ing, though his eyes do look so unBut what's money but wanity and wex- common bright; and then she says, ation, when nobody has a warm heart with a little sigh, that she is upwards toward us?”

of forty John Chidlaw sighed a long, long She had observed John's wrinkled sigh, and then he turned his boat about face, and her confession was not withand they sailed back again. By and out method, though she might bave by, as if to push him toward his fate, added five to the forty years, if she had there flashed down a few big drops of chosen to be very accurate. rain. The sun was shining all the “ Up’ards o' forty!” says John, while, but he bestirred himself, and charmed alike with her sincerity and worked with a will, and the widow lent her well-preserved beauty. “Why, I her little hindering help, and directly snum, you might marry a man o'twenthe canvas was spread and securely ty-five any day, if you had a mind." drawn down, and they were sitting be- “Ah, Captain, but I have n't the mind. neath it, side by side, cosey as could I want a man — that is, if I ever wenbe. She became more communicative ter to marry agin — who is older than now, and told him in what street she myself, - say from ten to fifteen year was born and who her father was. older. I would n't be so wery particu

" What! not Street, of our town lar.” And then she says to John, - for here ? And your father's name Peter a possibility crosses her mind, — “Does Rollins, too ? "

your family live hereabouts ?" “Yes, Peter Rollins, coffin-maker, John blushed up to his eyes. “Famsatin-lined and silver-screwed ! The ily !” says he. “I never was so forwery tiptop. None but quality come to tinate as to hev one." him. When I was a little girl, I used to “ Not even a wife, to be sure?” get into 'em, when we played hide and “No, miss.” And then he says he seek. Why, if you believe me, I've never expects to hev one. been into many a hundred-dollar one, “ Law, Captain, why? if I may wenand had my head into the satin piller of ter." it! That's the way I happened to cul- “ Cause nobody 'd hev me, miss ; tiwate a taste for satins and welwets and and to say truth, I never thought on 't the like, I guess.”

much till sense we've been a-takin' She did not heed the intimation of this voyage”; and he glanced at her her companion that he had known her slyly, and touched the ends of her ribfather, but went on for half an hour bon. without once stopping to take breath. “ And what could 'a' put it into your

“Ah, Captain,” she says, “ I've been head now, Captain Chidlaw ?dethroned in the world! I was born “Can you ask me that in airnest ?" to riches and a proud position, but I says John, still holding the ribbons as married beneath me, a poor green-gro

for dear life. “Then I must tell you cer that turned out a wagabond ; and in to just look into the glass, and you 'll my trials with him, I lost all my good

see what." looks ; for I may say, without wanity, “O Captain, you ought to be ashamed that I was good-looking in my girlish to plague a poor lone woman like me

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'that way; it 's wery bad of you, wery, have no interest in me; and, besides, and I 've a great mind to box your my name is hateful to me." ears !” and she put out her little hand “ But I must call you somethin'!" to him in a sweetly menacing manner. “ Well, then, inwent a name. My

John seized the hand and kissed it, maiden name reminds me of the royal and then, frightened at himself, ran to hours when my father's position gave the other end of the boat and looked me rank, and before the wicissitudes hard at the clouds.

of fortune brought me low; I cannot * O, come back! come back !! therefore consent to be called by that's screamed the widow; "the boat 'll and my married name is the name of upset, with me at one end and you at a wagabond, and I despise it. O sir, the other !"

inwent a name, for mercy's sake!” “Sure enough !” says John, and he “ I'll inwent it for love's sake," says went sheepishly back, and again seated John, slipping his arm round her waist, himself by her side.

and drawing her close to him; " and She gave him a little tap on the ear, I'll call you my dove, coz you see and asked him if he would promise you 've got all the timidity and gentlenever to run away and frighten her so ness o' that lovely bird, and your voice again.

is sweeter than the turtle's, I'm sure." John said he would promise ber any- “O Captain, my woice is n't a nice thing in the world that was in his pow- woice now-a-days, my woice went er to grant ; and he looked at her with with the rest of my attractions when such adoration that the woman over- I was dethroned. I had a nice woice came the coquette, or the coquette the once. If we could have met then !" woman, — which shall I say ? -- and “My dove !” says John, “ whatever she went as far from the “ dangerous your woice bes ben, I would n't hev edge of things” as possible, and told it no sweeter than what it is now; it him demurely that the only promise she kerries me back to the years that hed exacted was, that he should listen to hope in 'em, – the years when I was a the long and techin' story of her life. boy, and in love." It all came back upon her, and she felt “Say no more,” says the widow; as if she must tell it to somebody. “my heart already tells me that you .“ May be, though, you don't want to love another,” — and she began to pout. hear it ? ” says she.

“Lord bless us !” says John; “our “ May be I don't want to hear it! boat is aground. I was so took up How can you ?” says John, edging up with you, Rose, that I did n't see she And she began:

was driftin' down stream, and here “ I told you, Captain, that I had been we be, high and dry, and a storm dethroned, and I have, — wilely de- a-comin' on; but you can't blame me throned, and brought low, by my own so ha’shly, my dear Rose, as what I woluntary act.”

blame myself. Can you forgive me ?” “Dear heart !” says John, “so much “ Forgive you ?” cries the widow, the worse, if it was woluntary, so few reproachfully. “Can you forget that I pities you."

am an undertaker's daughter ?” “ Ah, that's it,” says the widow ; This speech did not convey any very “ nobody pities me, - nobody in the clear meaning to the mind of John wide world has got a warm heart to- Chidlaw; but he attributed that to his ward me.” She broke quite down, own dulness, and as this struck him and the tears came to her eyes. as being very great, somehow or oth

“What may your name be?” says er, though he could not tell how, he John, seizing both her hands and gaz- bowed his head in shamefaced silence. ing tenderly in her face.

In spite of what he had said about * Why do you ask? I'm but a tran- being in love in his youth, the widow sient wisitor to your boat; you can't took great courage. He had said “our

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boat” instead of my boat," and he had o'flints, and his'n was one on 'em, I called her Rose, --- her real name, guess.” how should he know that? She could “Yes, as you say wisely, some is not tell, but somehow she augured fa- flint,” says the widow; “but then vorably from it; besides, they were some is n't!” And she dropped her aground, and must wait for the rising eyes, and gave his hand a confiding litof the tide, and in the intervening time tle squeeze. And then she says that, who knew what might be done? She once married, diworce is n't got for would tell all her story; and its pathos, the asking, -"you are tied for good she fancied, must subjugate the most and all." And then she says, that obdurate heart.

brings her to the p'int. Yes," she renewed, “ I am, or rath- To be dethroned was bad enough,” er was, an undertaker's daughter, with says she ; " and then to see my royal the most brilliant prospects before me dowery conwerted into whiskey, which that ever allured a wile wagabond of it was dewoured by him, the same bea fortune-hunter, for such he was who ing took continual; but what was most

stole me from the satin pillers my young intolerable of all was that he walked · head had played among, and give me into his sleep! I tried every way to a piller of husks, and cold wittles, and contrawene the wile habit that could wulgar lodgings."

be inwented. I coaxed and I scolded, “ The wretch ! " cries John. “The and I got up late, and I give him hot · wile wretch ! if he yet lived, I would winegar with a little whiskey into it, wow myself to wengeance !” And, like he would swaller anything that had a Jacob of old, he lifted up his voice and drop of whiskey into it,--and I prewailed wept.

on him to sing psalms, and, that failing, " Don't take on so," says the widow. I prewailed onto him to inwest into a “I would not cause you a moment's sor- wiolin and play onto that till late into row for the world.”

the midnight, thinking by that means “ To think any man should have his witality would be exhausted, and abused the like o' you !” says John. he would lie into his bed like any other “But surely he never laid wiolent man ; but lo and behold! he inwested hands ont' you? I think I shall lose into the wiolin a-Monday, and a-Monmy senses if you say that."

day night he played till along towards “ Then I won't say it,” says the ten o'clock, and I got clean wore out, widow, tenderly stroking his hand. and, says I, “Do leave off playing onto

“ That touch is wivifying,” says that wiolin,' says I, for my head aches John ; “so, dear Rose, you may go on like all possess'; and with that he up and tell the wust on 't."

and went to bed, and after a while I Then the widow came to the worst; hears something fingering the latch, for after all the trials she had with the and I riz onto my elbow, and says, in old wagabond, she said, she could have a whisper, 'Dan'l, there's a put up with him but for one nasty hab- a-trying to break in, as sure as you ’re it, - he walked into his sleep! “ And alive!' He did n't answer, and thinks now a man that walks into his sleep,” says I, the wiolin has done it, and he is says she, “is a trial and a torment to a-sleeping with a wengeance, and then his wife which there is no tongue can

I feels along, and says 1, ‘Dan'l, tell it."

Dan'l !' but still no answer ; then I " Ah, to be sure,” says John, “you felt for the piller, and there was no ought to hev been divorced, and to head onto it, and I scraped a match, have recovered big damages into the and it went out, and I scraped another, bargain. To think that the willain and it went out, and I scraped another, dared to walk into his sleep, and fright- and a leetle blue flame just started and en a poor timid dove like you! But the flickered, and before I could see what hearts o' some does seem manufactured it was a-fumbling at the door, it went

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out. Thinks says I, I'll make sure the piller! So I went feeling here work now; and I took two of the nasty and there, and every minute I come things into my hand and scraped so back to him, and every time I touched hard I crushed them all up together, him he wociferated at the top of his and they flashed out and seared my woice; and then I'd say, “Dan'l, it finger-ends and burnt a hole into my was n't woluntary !' and then I'd feel nightgownd-sleeve, and, seeing I was and feel by the chairs and the wall, like to burn up, I slapped my arm with and by one thing and another, as a all my might, and at last I slapped the body will when they can't see, and the flame down, and at last, by persewer- first thing I'd know I'd be right back ance, I slapped it out; and yet I to him agin. My blistered arm, meanhad n't seen a thing, but I could feel time, was a-burning like fire, but, thinks the hole into my nightgownd-sleeve, and says I, it's no use, I can 't find the my arm all burnt into a light blister. water-pitcher, I'm so turned round; *Dan'l!' says I again ; but Dan'l did n't and I just sot down where I was, answer, and then I was full sure it was and there I sot till daylight, blowing him, and I scraped with a steadier all my breath away onto my arm, and hand,

and the match - it was one the minute I could see I made for the of them nasty lucifers, may be you pitcher; but, happening to take it by know"

the snout instead of the handle, away “Yes, I 've heerd tell on 'em,” says it went, and spilt all the water, and John.

broke the pitcher past all mending, And the wretched woman went and a fine pitcher, too!-- one that my on : “It was one of them nasty luci- own father give me in cholera times, fers, and it choked me so I could not when his business was at the best." find the candle ; and though I could “I declare,” says John Chidlaw, just see a ghostly object at the door, “it's enough to make a body's blood I could not tell at all whether it was run cold !” And then he says he Dan'l or not, for he never looked like does n't wonder she's agin matrimony ! himself when he walked into his Now the widow had said nothing sleep ; and the match — they are noth- of the sort, and stoutly protested that ing but splinters, you know — was she had not, but that, on the conburning closer and closer to my fin- trary, she thought it an adwantage to gers, and I just dabs it wiolently into any woman to be married, prowided the washbowl, and puts it out. And she could find an indiwidual that had then says I, 'Dan'l! Dan'l!' again ; a warm heart toward her; to which and this time he answers, and says he, John replied that she had found such *You wixen,' says he, 'shut up your a one ; and she answered, “How you mouth!'

do go on!” and resumed her story. “There was no mistaking that, and "Well, a-Tuesday night he took to all in the dark I wentered after him, the wiolin again, and played and played and grabbed and ketched him by the and played and played all the old danend of his neck-tie, and hild with cing tunes in creation, and I sot by and all my might; and at that he began never said a word till 'leven o'clock to wociferate at the top of his woice, come, and then till twelve o'clock and, thinks says !, better than rouse come, and then till one o'clock come, all the neighbors and have them broke and then till two o'clock come, and at o' their rest, I'll just let him go and last, thinks says I, my brain will go walk into his sleep till he's satisfied. wild, and says I; “Dan'l, I ain't a bit I took the key out of the door, and sleepy, but I do feel some as if I could then I tried to find my way back, for, go to sleep if you'd just keep on thinks says I, I 'll retire and take my a-playing ; I've got kind o' used to it, rest anyhow, and, if you believe it, I and I don't believe I can go to sleep was so turned round I could n't find without it.' With this he flung the

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