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About The daily reporter. (McMinnville, Or.) 1886-1887 | View Entire Issue (Feb. 16, 1887)
reai. was leu eeiweun ¿nedr. &Uen a cloud often rises— a mist that eomes just before the day-dawn; or, as hap pens sometimes, before night. D. C. IRELAND A CO. PUBLISHERS, For many days—bow many I do not McMinnville, Or. - - Feb. 16, 1887 recollect, since about this time all in the house and in the world without seemed to go ou so sWaogely— for many days afterward nothing happened of any eon- sequence, except that on Sunday after noon I made a faint struggle of polite ness in some remark about "going home” and “eneroaching on their hos pitality,” which was met with such evi AN OLD GOVERNESS’S TALE- dent pain and alarm by all parties, that I was silent; 3® we stayed yet longer. One morning—it was high summer FOUNDED ON FACT. now—we were sitting at breakfast; we -I....,, oniv Mrs. Sutherland never rose early, i was making tea, zuian near me, and Mr. Sutherland at the foot ol the table. He looked anxious and RY MISS MU LOCK. • ■~VTry~uirrycnrnoc reii me, my dear.'' did not talk much, though I remember said I; “you know your happiness is of he rive up once to throw a handful of the first importance to me as well as to crumbs to a half-tame thrush that had your guardian.” And, rather hesitat built in a laurel-bush on the lawn—he was always so kind to every living ing, I repeated, word by word, as near thing! • - - _ 5 as I could, Mr. Sutherland’s message. "There, my fine bird, take some food While 1 spoke Zillah hid her face among the cushions, and then drew it homo to your wife and weans!” said he, pleasantly; but at the words, became out burning red. “He thinks I am going to accept the grave, even sad, once more. He had creature then? He would have me his letters beside him, and opened marry a conceited, chattering, mean them successively until he came to one looking, foolish boy!” (Now Mr. —a momentous one, I knew, for though French was certainly twenty-five.) he never moved, but read quietly on, “One, too, that only wants me for my every ray of color faded out of his face, fortune and nothing else. It is very lie dropped his head upon his hand, and wrong, cruel, and heartless of him, ana sat so long in that attitude tnat we were both frightened. you may go and tell him so.” “Is anything the matter?” I said; “Tell who?” said I, bewildered by this outburst of indignation, and great con gently, for Zillah was dumb. “Did you speak?” he answered, with fusion of personal pronouns. “Mr. Sutherland, of course! Who a bewildering stare. “Forgive me; I— else would I tell? Whose opinion else I have had bad news”—ami he tried to do I care for? Go and say to him— resume the duties of the meal; but it No,” she added, abruptly; “no, you was impossible; he was evidently needn’t trouble him with anything crushed, as even the strongest and about me. Just sav I shall not marry bravest men will be for the moment un Mr. French, and he will be so kind as to der some great and unexpected shock. We said to him—I repeat we. because, give him his answer and bid him let me though Zillah spoke not, her look was alone.” Here, quite exhausted with her j enough, had he seen it—we said to him wrath, Zillah sank back, and took her ! those few soothing things that women book, turning her head from me. But can, and ought to say in such a time. “Aye,” he answered, quite unmanned I saw that she did not read one line, that her motionless eyes were fixed and i —“aye. you are very kind. I think it full of strange deep expression. I be-1 would do me good if I-could speak to gan to cease wondering what the future : some one—Cassia, will you come?” He rose slowly, and held out his hand would bring. Very soon afterward I went back to i to me. To me! That proof of his con Mr. Sutherland and told him all that! fidence, his tenderness, his friendship. had passed; just the plain facts, with 1 have ever after remembered, and thought, with thankful heart, that, out any comments of mv own. lie apparently required none. I found though not made to give him happiness. him sitting composedly with some pa I have sometimes done him a little good pers before him—he had for the last wiien he was in trouble. . We walked together from the room. few days been immersed in business which seemed rather to trouble him; he I heard a low sob behind us, but had no started a little as I entered, but imme power to stay; besides a momentary diately came forward and listened with pang mattered little to the child—her a quiet aspect to the message I had to sobs would be hushed ere long. .Standing behind the chair where he bring. I could not tell whether it made him happy or the contrary; his eounte-i sat, I heard the story of Mr. Suther nance could be at times so totally im-, land's misfortunes—misfortunes neith passive that no friend, dearest or near er strange nor rare in the mercantile est, could ever find out from it anything i world. In one brief word, he was ruined; that is, so far as a man is ru he did not wish to betray. “The matter is settled then.” said he I ined who has enough left to pay all his gravely; “I will write to Mr. French to-! creditors, and start in the world afresh day, and perhaps it would be as well if as a penniless honest man. He told me we never alluded to what has passed. this—an every-day story; nay, it had I, at least, shall not do it; tell Zillah so. been my own father’s—told it me with But in the future, say that I entreat ; great composure, and I listened with she keeps no > • ret back from you. He- : the same. 1 was acquainted with all member this, my dear Cassia; watch these kind of business matters of old. over her as you ’ love her—and you do It was very strange, but I felt no grief, love her?” continued he. grasping my no pity for his losses. .1 only felt, on my own account, a burning, avaricious hand. I answered that I did, and God knows : thirst for gold; a, frantic envy—a mad even then 1 told no lie. She was a very longing to have for a single day, a single hour, wealth in millions. dear child to me always! “Yes, it must be so.” said he, when, Mr. Sutherland seemed quite satisfied and at rest, lie hade me a cheerful after talking to me a little more. I saw good-bye, which I knew meant that I the hard muscles of his face relax, and should go away, so accordingly I went. I he grew patient, ready to bear his Passing the drawing-room door. 1 saw troubles like a man—like Andrew Zillah lying in her old position on the1 .Sutherland. “Yes. I must give up sofa; so I would not disturb her. but this house and all my pleasant life here; wyent and walked up and down under a but I can do it since I shall be alone.” then he added in a low tone: “I clump of fir-trees in the garden. They And am glad, very glad of two made a shadow dark and grave, anil things: my Cassia, mother’s safe settlement, still; it was more natural than being and the winding-up month of all on the law'n among the flowers, the sun my affairs with—Miss last Le i ’oer.” shine and the bees. I did not come in “When,” said I, after a pause—“when for hours. you intend to tell Zillah what has At dinner there were, fortunately, do happened? ” I felt feverishly anxious only ourselves, just a family party. | that she should all, and that I Mr. Sutherland did not join us until we should learn how know she would act. r«arhpiT th» din in cr-rnrxnn <1r*ov I “Tell Zillah? Aye.” he repeated, ticed that Zillah’s color changed as he approached, and that all dinner-time “tell her at once—tell her at once.” she hardly spoke to him; but he behaved And then he sunk back into his chair, to her as usual. He was rather thought muttering something about “its signify ful, for, as he told me privately, he had ing little now.” some trifling business anxieties burden- j I left him, and with my heart nerved, ing him just then; otherwise he seemed 1 as it were, to anything, went back to the same. Nevertheless, whether it the room where Zillah was. Iler eyes was his fault or Zillah’a, in a few days met me with a bitter, fierce, jealous the fact grew apparent to me that they look—jealous of me, the foolish child! were not quite such good friends as —until I told her what had happened to heretofore. A restraint, a discomfort, our friend. Then she wept, but only a shadow scarceLv tangible.- vet still V for a moment, until a light broke upon Th© PaHy THE HALF-CASTE. “What does it signify? cnea sne, echoing, curiously etiough, his own words. “I am of age—I can do just what 1 like: I will give my guardian all my money. Go back and tell him sol” I hesitated. “Go—quick, quick!—all I have in the world is not too good for him. Every thing belonging to me is his, and-----” Here she stopped, and catching my fixed looked, became covered with con fusion. Still the generous heart did not waver. “And when he has my for tune, you and I will go and live togeth er, and be governesses.” I felt the girl was in earnest nor wished to deceive me; and though I let her deceive herself a little longer, it was with joy—aye, with joy, that in the heart I clasped to mine was such un selfishness-such true nobility, not un worthy even of the bliss it was about to win. I went once more through the hall— the long. cool, silent, hall, which I trod so dizzily, daring not pause—into Mr. Sutherland’s presence. “Well!” said he, looking up. I told—in ivhat words I cannot now remember; but solemnly, faithfully, as if I were answering my account before heaven—the truth, and the whole truth. He listened, pressing his hands upon his eyes, and then gave vent to one heavy sigh, like a woman’s sob. At last he rose and walked feebly to the door. There he paused, as though to excuse his going. “I ought to thank her, you know. It must not be—not by any meaas; still I ought to go and thank her—the—dear child!” Ilis voice ceased, broken by emotion. Once more he held out his hand; I grasped it, and said, “Go!” At the parlor-door he stopped, appar ently for me to precede him in enter ing there; but, as if accidentally, I passed on and let him enter alone. Whether lie knew it or not, I knew clear as light what would happen then and there. The door shut,—the two being with in, and I without. In an hour I came back toward the house. 1 had been wandering somewhere, I think under the firwood. It was broad noon, but I felt very cold; it was al ways cold under those trees. I had no wav to pass but near the parlor win dow; and the same insane attraction made me look up as I went by. They were standing—they two—close together, as lovers stand. His arm folded her round; his face, all radiant, yet, trembling with tenderness, was pressed upon hers—Oh. my God! I am half inclined to blot out the last sentence, as, growing older, one feels the more how rarely and how solemnly the Holy Name ought to be mingled with any mere burst of human emotion. But I think the All-merciful One would pardon it then. Of course no reader will marvel at my showing emotion over the union of these my two dearest objects on earth. From that union I can now truly say I have derived the greatest comfort of mv life. They were married auicklv. as I urged; Mr. Sutherland settling ms wife’s whole property upon herself. This was the only balm his manly pride could know, and no greater proof could he give of his passionate love for her, than that he humbled himself to marry an heiress. As to what the world thought, no one could ever suspect the shadow of mercenary feeling in An drew Sutherland. All was as it should be—and so best. After Zillah’s marriage. I took a situ ation abroad. Mr. Sutherland was very angry when he knew; but I told him I longed for the soft Italian air, and could not live an idle life on any account. So they let me go, knowing, as he smiling ly said. “That Cassia could be obstinate when she chose—that her will, like her heart, was as firm as a rock.” Ah me! When I came back, it was to a calm, contented and cheerful middle age; to the home of a dear brother and sister; to the love of a new generation; to a life filled with peace of heart and thankfulness toward God; to---- Iley-day! writing is this moment be come quite impossible; for there peeps in a face at my bedroom door, and, while I live, not for worlds shall my youhg folks know that Aunt Cassia is an authoress. Therefore good-bye, pen! And now come in, my namesake, my darling, my fair-haired Cassia, with her mother's smile and her father's eyes and brow—I may kiss both now. Ah, God in heaven bless thee, my dear, dear child! Now is the time to subscribe. NEW TO-DAY. JOHN J. SAX, Has his Feed Chopping Mill In Running Order, -AND— Will chop Feed for $2 per ton or one-tenth toll. ----------(o)---------- Farmers and others having grain to chop can oome to my mill, and attend to any business in the oity to bette r advantage than driving two miles o#t of town to get their chopping done. JOHN J. SAX. McMinnville, Or. The Cestral Hotel, Dining Station of the 0. C. R. R. McMinnville, Oregon. F. Multxxer, Prop. (Late of the St. Charles.) r This Hotel has just been refitted and new ly refurnished throughout, and will be kept in a first class style. The table is supplied with all the market affords, and guests can rely upon pood olean beds, and comfortable rooms. Speoial accomodations for commercial travelers. SEVENTH ANNUAL FIREMAN'S FAIR —OF THE— McMinnville Fire Department, —AT— Garrison Opera House, Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday, February 22d, 23d and 24th, 1887. LIST OF PRIZES. There will be prizes given on the following named exhibits: 1st and 2d prize for best and 2d best ex hibit of Kensington painting. 1st and 2d prize, for best and 2d best ex hibit of Kensington, embroidery. 1st and 2d prize, for best and 2d best ex hibit of outline work by a child under 14 years of age. 1st and 2d best, for best and 2d best ex hibit of work of any kind by a boy under 14 years of age. 1st and 2d prize, for best and 2d best ex hibit of crayon work. There will also be a prize given for tha heaviest, lightest and prettiest baby under 1 year of age. Following isa list of prizosoffcred: Forth® prettiest baby, gold necklace; lightest and heaviest baby under one year’nf age, each a gold ring: outline work by a child under fourteen years, first prize, ear rings, second prize, scrap book; Kensington embroidery, first prize, napkin ring, second prize, box writing paper; kensington painting, first prize, manicure set, second prize, brncket; crayon work, first prize, paper holder, second prize, pitcher; boy’s work, first prize, paper holder, second prize, inkstand. Parade of Firemen Tuesday af ternoon. Doors will he open at 7 o’clock, p. in. dally, during tlic Fair. —All are invited to Attend— Admission 25 Cents. By Order of C ommittee . To be Continued. 11.50 in advance! for the Reporter for 1887, means just what it says—nr advawcb . Not a month after the beginning.