BY PROF.

ALDEN.

CHAPTER I.

In the afternoon of a pleasant day in June, the stage-coach stopped in front of the parsonage in the village of Alva. A young man alighted from the coach, and made his way to the door of the parsonage with a haste not quite in keeping with the dignity which his form, countenance, and dress, authorized him to assume. He gave a loud knock at the door, and without waiting for answer, sprang over the paling and entered the garden.

A young lady of seventeen, clothed in a neat calico dress, and shaded by a large sun-bonnet, was there engaged in weeding a bed of flowers. At the sound of approaching footsteps she rose up, holding in one hand a trowel, and in the other a basket containing the envious weeds.

"How do you do, Miss Wilson?" said the young man, checking his hurried footsteps and respectfully lifting his hat.

"George Marshall !" said the young lady, in a tone of intense surprise.

"Yes, your friend and playmate, George. I am glad you remember that old familiar name"taking her gloved hand and pressing it to his lips. She extricated her hand with some difficulty, and manifested more embarrassment than is usually connected with meeting, after a long absence, the playmate of one's early years.

"You give me no word of welcome-not even a smile," said George.

She made an attempt to smile, which he regarded as a failure; but there was compensation in the rich blush which overspread her features, and in the words, "I am glad to see you: when did you come ?"

"I arrived in the village about one minute ago: I knocked at the door, and then seeing you here I left the servant to suppose that the knock was the work of a mischievous boy. How have you been these long years? Let us walk to the summer-house and talk over the past."

He placed her passive arm within his, and they walked to the summer-house, which stood in the centre of the garden.

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"I do not see that it has suffered much by time," said he.

"It has been rebuilt."

"I am glad you preserved the original form. There, please sit in the corner you used to occupy, long, long ago. This was my seat.”

They were now seated as they often had been when children. There they had sung the songs of childhood, and had woven garlands of flowers, fancying they were in paradise-a fancy far nearer reality than any occupying the brain of older pilgrims in life's journey.

"You were accustomed to take off your sunbonnet here," said Marshall, gently removing her bonnet, but not without disturbing her tresses, which escaped from their confinement and fell loosely upon her neck.

"Now," said he, "you look as you used to-only a great deal more beautiful, he would have said, but he did not feel at liberty to say it in her hearing.

"You are the same George, you used to be," said she, putting her hair in place, and speaking in her natural tones, though her countenance had not yet regained its natural color.

"The same George! What else did you expect me to be ?"

"I did not expect you at all."

"Very likely. If you ever thought of me, you thought of a tall, grave personage, speaking by rule, and ordering each action by the square and compass of propriety. You see me, and your expectations are disappointed. I expected to see the most lovely girl in New England, and am not disappointed."

The young lady put on her bonnet. This act, she seemed to think, was the only answer his remark required. There was silence rather embarrassing to both. Marshall, after a vain attempt to think of something proper to be said, was obliged to fall back upon the topic just abandoned. "What did you expect, Miss Wilson ?" 'I expected to meet a man of the world, and

I am not sure that I was wrong."

Marshall felt that she had reference to the complimentary remark above recorded.

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"A man of the world," said he, "is a very indefinite expression. If you mean one who has seen a considerable portion of the world, you are not wrong: I have seen England, France, and Russia, besides dwelling for several years amid the smoke and fog of a German university."

"Tell me all about those countries."

"Most cheerfully in due time; but first let me know what you mean by a man of the world?" "By a man of the world I mean one who is skilled in the language of compliment, and leaves sincerity to the unsophisticated inhabitants of the country village."

'Did you really expect that I should become such an one?"

"Why should not the world have its influence upon you as well as upon others!"

'Did you expect it would have that influence upon me?"

"I hoped it would not."

“Pardon me, did you believe it would?” "No."

"Your father is awake, Miss Emily," said a voice which caused them both to start.

"Your good father-I beg his pardon for forgetting him for a moment; how is he?"

“He is very ill,” said Emily, moving towards the house.

"Has he been long ill?" said Marshall, with unaffected interest.

He has been ill for more than a year." "Can I see him?"

"Not immediately. He is to take some medicine now, and it usually occasions coughing, which exhausts him very much."

"I will call, then, in the course of an hour." Emily entered the sick chamber, and Marshall repaired to the village inn.

Emily Wilson and George Marshall had been playmates in childhood, and had then formed an attachment of unusual strength. When George was fourteen years of age his father removed from the village to the great metropolis. He soon went abroad, taking his son with him. The son remained abroad nearly six years, and had just returned to his native land. He had taken the earliest opportunity to visit the scenes and companions of his early years.

Emily gave her father his medicine, and smoothed his pillow, and fanned his temples till he became composed. She then informed him that Mr. Marshall was in the village.

Who?" said Mr. Wilson.

"George Marshall."

"Is he albbė?”num 8

"I do not know,eir he wishes very much to see you if your strength will permit."

"Is he in the house Anno VI

"No, sir; he said he would call soon." She rose and went to the window; "he is coming now." "Ask him in.”

Marshall entered the apartment. As he took

the hand and marked the wan features of the invalid, he gave Emily a look which sufficiently indicated that time had not destroyed the interest he formerly felt in the family. The look did not escape the observation of the invalid.

"I am very sorry to find you in this state of health," said Marshall; then turning to Emily, that her father might be spared the exertion of speaking, he added, "how long has he been confined to his room?"

"About three weeks."

George was silent, and gazed with compassion upon the father, and with more than compassion upon the daughter. He wished to ask if there was no hope. The invalid anticipated the question. 66 My work here is done. For many years I was employed in doing the will of God-now I am suffering the will of God. I shall soon be released. I never expect to leave this room till I am carried hence to be laid by the side of my dear wife. Emily, my dear, do not give way thus to your feelings. Go and take the air while George stays with me.”

The sobbing girl left the apartment, and George seated himself in her vacant chair.

"Does your physician give no encouragement!" "He is a warm friend, and his desires influence his judgment. You have been absent a long time. I received your letter, and answered it."

"I did not receive the answer, or I should have written again."

"I am sorry you were led to suppose that I neglected you-besides, the letter contained counsels which I hoped would be useful to you amid the temptations to which you were exposed."

"I have been exposed to temptations, but the scene I witnessed under this roof, and the impression made upon my mind by the instructions here received, had a strong influence over me." "You allude to the triumphant death of my dear wife. I shall soon be with her."

I hope you will be spared to-Miss Emily""The thought of leaving her has caused me great pain, but is now past. I have long preached submission, and now, I am thankful to say, I am enabled to practise submission. But I must not talk with you any more at present. How long do you remain with us ?"

"1 have no fixed purpose respecting my stay. My father has given me permission to dispose of myself for the summer, as I please."

"I shall see more of you then. Good-bye." Marshall returned to the inn.

CHAPTER II.

A number of the inhabitants of the village had assembled at the inn, not to indulge in drinking, but to spend the short evening in social converse. The influence of the pastor had long since banished intoxicating drinks.

Marshall was passing through the bar-room to his chamber, when he heard mention made of the pastor's family. He seated himself by the table, on which a dim light was burning, and taking up a newspaper some months old, appeared to be busily occupied with its columns. No one present recognized him.

"I think," said Mr. Martin, "that the minister missed it that he did not go to the South, when he had a call there. This climate is too cold for him, and besides, the salary there would have enabled him to lay up something for his family." "His daughter is going to be married, is she not?" said Mr. Jones. Marshall looked up from his paper as this question was asked.

"I have not heard anything about it." "Johnson was there pretty often last fall, before I went away, and it was thought by many that it would be a match. It would be a good one for her, for he is doing a good business."

"That matter is at an end," said Mr. Moss. "He told me," said Mr. Bolton, who was busily occupied in carving a snake's head upon his cane, "that he meant to marry her, and if he disappoints her I know of one who don't take any more apples to his cider-mill."

"It takes two to make a bargain," said Moss. *The minister did not like his principles, and the girl did not like the man, so there was an end of it. Johnson behaved well enough about it, I believe."

"Where is that boy who always used to be there-though he can't be a boy now," said Martin. "Do you mean Marshall's son ?" said Jones. "Yes."

"He is in the old countries."

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that giving to the poor was lending to the Lord," said Mr. Moss.

"I am afraid," continued Bolton, "that will not bring the money back, now that his daughter is likely to need it. I should be glad to have something done for her before the old gentleman is taken away, that he may feel easy about her. I am willing to do my part, and I should like to do it right away."

"So far as I see, then," said Moss, "what he has lent is pretty sure to be repaid. Whenever you say a thing ought to be done, you take hold and do it. It seems to me that the very man that doubts the doctrine, is about to prove it true." "The truth is," said the landlord, who had recently come into the place, "she is about to be well provided for."

In what way!" said Martin.

"The new minister in Charberry is to marry her. The woman that lives there told my wife so yesterday."

"

Is it the man who preached here last Sabbath?"

"Yes."

"He is a good preacher," said Jones.

“He is a man of some property,” said Moss,

so that matter will come around right, though to lose Mr. Wilson will be a great loss to us."

The conversation was interrupted by the entrance of a stranger. He brought some political news, which, of course, engaged the attention of all present except Marshall. He rose and went to his chamber. He was not at all pleased with the information that he had received below. He did not rejoice that the friend of his childhood was to be so well provided for. Had he come to the village with the purpose of wooing her? What did he know respecting the development of her character? Was her mind fitted for communion with his, enlarged by education and travel? Was it probable that one who had never passed the limits of her native village, was qualified to occupy the station which his companion would be called to occupy Ought

“His father is now president of a bank, and is worth half a million. His son, if he ever comes home, will not be likely to marry a poor minister's daughter."

"So I think. I wish Mr. Wilson had something to leave his daughter. I suppose he has no property except his furniture."

"He might have had something if he had not been always giving away everything he got," said Bolton.

"He practised what he preached. He told us

in her hour of trial? Reason could readily give answer to these questions, but reason was not the only power concerned with them.

CHAPTER III.

Early in the morning, Marshall called at the door of the parsonage, and inquired respecting the pastor. He learned that Emily had watched with him, and had just retired to rest. His heart

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THE WEDDING

smote him that he had not made a proffer of his own services.

"After all," said he to himself, "it is well I did not. I should not have learned her present position, and might have suffered my feelings to have passed beyond my control."

The morning wore heavily away. He thought of visiting the haunts of his former years, but they no longer held out any charms. He was standing in the rude piazza of the inn, and giving indulgence to thoughts far more melancholy than were wont to occupy his mind, when Bolton, who happened to be passing, stopped, and having scanned his features for a moment, asked, "Didn't I use to know you?"

“I presume you did,” said Marshall. "You have altered greatly, but not for the worse: how do you do?"

"I am very well," said Marshall, returning the warm pressure of his toil-hardened hand.

"Well, I am right glad to see you. If you are not busy, walk along with me. My work is waiting for me, or I would stop and talk with you." Marshall cheerfully complied with this request. "You have been pretty much all over the world since you left us?"

"I have been abroad."

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"I wish you had come home a little sooner. always wanted you to marry our minister's daughter. Last night when they were talking about you I wonder I did not know you then, but you held the newspaper before your face-and said you would not marry her because your father was rich, I did not say any thing, but thinks I, that is slander-I know him better than that."

"I am much obliged to you for your good opinion."

"I saw a good deal of you when you was a boy, and I can tell pretty well how a boy will be likely to shape himself when he comes to be a man. There is the young minister now, at Mr. Wilson's."

They were now nearly opposite the parsonage. A fine-looking young man, a few years older than Marshall, alighted from his horse, and entered the house without knocking.

He is a fine fellow," continued Bolton, "but❞— he was going to say something more respecting Emily, but he checked himself and said, "How lo do you intend to stay with us?"

"I think I shall leave to-morrow; I have nothing to keep me here."

"I am sorry you make so short a visit. I must see you again. Good morning;" and he turned aside to his work.

As Marshall began to retrace his steps, he saw Emily in the garden. She was accustomed to

attend to her flowers whenever her father slept, or a friend called to keep him company. His first impulse was to join her, and his hand was placed upon the fence, when he hesitated. Many reasons suggested themselves for seeing her only in the presence of her father, but they were insufficient. The heart proved too strong for the head. He entered the garden and hastened to her side. She noticed the sadness of his countenance as he approached. It chased away the smile with which she was prepared to greet himAfter inquiries respecting her father had been made and answered, conversation languished. They repaired, as before, to the summer-house, but their interview was in strong contrast with that of the former day. Marshall could not bring himself to make direct inquiries respecting the young minister of Charberry. He gave her an opportunity of speaking of him, of which she did not avail herself. Ought she not to be more frank with the friend of her childhood?

"I think I shall leave to-morrow," said Marshall. A start and a half-suppressed exclamation testified her surprise and pain.

"To-morrow! Why do you go so soon? Is it necessary?"

It is not necessary, but it is not expedient for me to linger here."

"Oh, George," said she, familiarly, her eyes overflowing with tears, "you do not know how much I have suffered since my father has been ill."

"If medical skill or any thing which my means can command will save him, I pray that you will name it. I owe him a vast debt."

"A year ago, travelling might have saved him, but we had not the means. Oh, how my heart has ached as I have seen him failing day after day, and all for lack of the means necessary to his restoration. I never gave up all hope till yesterday."

"Why did you not write to me, or to my father?"

"I thought of you. My father said that if it was the will of God that we should travel, the means would be furnished."

"I am very sorry that I did not know his situation. Let me now do all that I can do for you. Confide in me as in a brother: a brother could not feel a deeper interest in your welfare than I do."

"Oh, do not leave me alone, then, when, at any hour, I may be left an orphan. My father, too, seemed so happy when he had seen you."

"I will stay as long as I can be of service to you, though it will be at the peril of my peace of life: but if you desire it, I will make the sacrifice."

'Oh, make no sacrifice for me, I entreat you. What did I ask? I am sometimes almost wild-no relative in the world but my father, and he about to be taken from me!"

Marshall placed himself by the side of the weeping girl, and supported her with his arm, till she dried her tears. "I must not be any longer away from my father," gently removing his arm and rising; "call and sit with us this afternoon. His friend is to stay but an hour or two."

"His friend!" said Marshall, with a look which brought a deep blush over her features.

"Yes, his friend-our friend, I ought to say,

for he has been very kind to us."

"Your friend?" said he, half reproachfully.

Not mine, peculiarly.”

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"You must use your own judgment."

"So," said Mr. Wilson, after his inquiries respecting his old friend, George's father, had been answered, "you have not forgotten the instructions of your early days?"

"I owe you, sir, a debt of gratitude which I can never repay."

"You owe nothing to me. I was but an instrument in a higher hand. You have great means of doing good, and consequently, great means of happiness. The joy of life is the joy of doing good."

"I doubt not that is a pure and elevated joy, but are not the affections to be taken into the

her to the bedside, Marshall said, "We desire your consent to our union at a suitable time." The father feebly pressed the united hands of the lovers, and turning his face to the wall, wept tears of gratitude and joy.

Emily followed her lover from the room. “Come early in the morning," said Emily, as he was taking his leave.

Perhaps I may return this evening."

"I fear my father will be too weak for you to see him, or for me to leave him."

"I will try to stay away till morning." Having returned twice or thrice to repeat the parting salute under the screen of the woodbine which shaded the piazza, he made his way to the inn.

It was now pretty generally known throughout the village, that George Marshall had come. After sunset there was quite a gathering at the inn, to meet him. He was in a mood to receive them cordially. Having spent an hour with them, he deemed it necessary, in order to comfortable sleep, to take another view of the parsonage. His friends were not displeased that they were thus left at liberty to exercise their birthright. Some expressed their regret that he had not come a little sooner, and others were confident that he had come just in time. The announcement that he was to spend the summer in the place, gave great satisfaction to all.

"What is he going to do here all summer?" said one. Several guesses were made.

"I tell you what it is," said Bolton, “I have been putting things together, and I guess I have it. Either that young minister has got his walking paper, or there is nothing in your story, landlord. You see if my words do not come true."

"So much the better if they do," said the landlord, whose heart was completely won by the purse and the agreeable manners of his guest.