Matrimonial

ivrmblished complote by request A forlorn figuré she was. She was eitting on her trcmk at a landing on the "Danka of Eed river, waiting for the down boat. About her was a group of amnsed lrmt sympathetic bystanders, nd she was telling them her story. "I answered it in good faith," she said. "Here ís his advertisement. I cut it from a matrimonial agency paper." She took the clipping from her pocket and read it aloud, her black eyea snapping dangerously: isma widower, 34 years oíd. I live, with my two little girle, upon my cotton plantation. I have 1,000 acreB, more or lees, my own unincambered propevty, situated on the beautiful Bayou St. Lucas. 1 have a nice cottage homo embowered in vines, witli gardens, chickens, cowb, harness and Bsuldle horses, flowers, fruit every comfort except a wife. With a view ta npplying the deüciency, I ask a correspondenoe with some respectable yovmg lady, hoping lo persuade her to "Share my cottage, gentle mald. It only waits for thee To add a gweetness to lts shade And happiness to ine." Rtferenceg excnanged. Alkxakdeb Graviixe. "I answered that advertisement," said the black eyed girl sitting on the zinc overed trunk. "I was a teacher in a small private school in New York. The work was hard ; the pay was poor. I had a stepmother at home and a houseful of small half brothers and sisters. I wanted to get away. I - I - had had a - disappointment" -the black eyes filled- "and I was nnhappy. I had read 'Jane Eyre' and I- Teally thought that man might be anothr Rochester. We corresponded. He gave the postmaster as reference. I wrote to the postmaster, and he answered that Mr. Graville's character and standing were all right. He had a good farm, he was honest and paid his debts. "Mr. Graville wanted me to come on and be manied at his home. I drew what money I had saved out of the savings bank, sold my watch and came on. My stepmother was glad to get rid f me. I got here yesterday. He had said he would meet me at this landing - it would be a pleasant ride out to his cottage. I had written a letter just before I left, saying when I would arrive. I found nobody to meet me. I asked the way to Mr. Alexander Graville's. Nobody could teil until an old darky sung ont: " 'Dat white 'ornan mus' mean ole Sandy Gravel. He live back here in the awamp, but he ain't got no ca' age to send for nobody. Got nuthin but er cyart. Hit's here now. His son Ben driv' in to git some pervisions.' " 'Has he a soní" I asked. " 'Got a swarm of 'em,' was the anwer. 'All done married but Ben.' "My mind misgave me, but I had no place to go to - no money, so I huntedup Ben and told him I was going to his father's house. He wasa freckled, patched, stupid looking young man. He looked at me with eyes and mouth open in amazement and. was so bashful that I refrained from asking questions. I never hinted to Ben that I had come on to be his stepmother. "On we drove, over stumps and roots and gullies - through mud and swamps. It seemed to be 20 miles. At last we drew ap bei'ore a dingy, two roomed house with a Bhed at the back. A few scruggy peach trees and a neglected grapevine were the only green things in the yard beside the weeds. A woman was milking a scrawny cow in front of the gato. She had her back to us and a sunbonnet on. Two shock headed, barelegged children sat on the fence. They gave the alarm when they saw a stranger in the cart, and a man, who had been squatted in a fence corner holding off the calf gol ap and carne toward us. " 'That's pap,' said Ben. "He lookeö nearer 60 than 35. He was grizzle and snaggle toothed; his necli was red and wrinkled. He carne up to the cart. He was agitated and chewed nis tobáceo wonderf ully f ast. I got up frons the flour sack. " 'I am Amelia Jones.' "He turned very red and told his son to carry the sack of fiour into the house. " 'I wasn't expectin yon,' he said. 'It's so long since you wrote.' " 'You have deceived me,' Iburst out. 'You said you had a nice home, emfoowered in yines and fruit trees. You said you were 35. You said you had nly two little girls. You said you were rich' " 'No, I didn't,' he interrupted. 'I said I had 1,000 acres of land - so I hare- though a big part of it is swamp. Acres don't make folks rich in these parts. This ain't New York. I said I was 33. I didn't say I was a few years over, for Tra spry and young enough for any woman. I said I had two little girls livin with me - said nuthin about the boys. They're all big fellows and rnarried and gone, 'cept Ben. As for the house, ain't that a good house? - doublé pen and a shed to boot! Don't leak unless it rains a-xid got a first rate chimney. And ain" thera a vine? And what's the matt ■■ with them peach trees- ain't there fruit?' " 'And do you imagine any young woman in her senses would marry you and live here?' I cried. " 'Do I? Well, there's no imagination about it. There's three women have inarried me and lived here. Twoof'em's dead and buried, and yonder stands fother. I couldn't hear from you. I conclnded you was playin me a Yankee trick; couldn't wait nohow. So I married Miss Susan Barnes, and if you say she ain't a young woman in her senses, why, she' " 'Why, I'll show her- that's what I'll do,' said Mrs. G-raville No. 3, dropping her milk pail and rolling up her sleeves as she carne to the side of the cart. "I begged Ben to drive me back to the river, and here I am - waiting to take the first boat. I've played the fooi, and I'm pnnished. It's crushed all the silly romance out of me. How I'm to pay niy passage, I don't know. I'll offer to do chambermaid's work. "But this Miss Amelia Jones was not forced to do. 'Ole Sandy Graville' carne to the front. He proved to be not such a bad jot aíterall. He rode up presently ón aböny mustang anu pröïnpïly gave the little 'Yankee schoolmarm' enough money to tyay her passage back, with an additional sum to cover the expense of I her coming. He had drawn on his ■ ton erop. He looked cast down and ' sheepish. He explained to his friends in thia wise: " 'I was a fooi- a doggone fooi, bat 1 meant it all honest. I pnt a kind of rose color over things in that advertisenient. It's the way you do in the papers, so that young postmaster said. He put me up to it. He wrote the ad and the letters. I really spected to marry her, but I'd give my promise to Susan in a kinder joky way, and she held me to it. I didn't hear from t'other one. Bayou was up and critters all in the plow, and I ain't been to the postoffice in full six weeks. I'm awfnl sorry to disappint the girl, but, Lor' sakes! shenever would 'a' suited. Nice lookin- a fair daisy- but Susan could jes' go all around her doin housework, let 'lone talrin a hand in the erop, in the press of choppin out or cotton I pickin.' Miss Jones did not return toNew York at once. She remained in the neighborhood several weeks, hospitablyentertained by old Captain Stewart, a war veteran, and his wif e. She very nearly decided to becoine the governess of the captain's little granddaughter and cast her lot with the "big hearted southerners," as she called us, in spite of her experiences with the eccentric widower of Bayou St. Lucas. But one day there carne to her a letter with a Ney York postmark. On seeing the handwriting, Amelia turned first pale, then rosy red. It was from the recreant lover, and he asked to be f orgiven and taken back. Womanlike, she was ready to forget her wrongs. Shetook leaveof the friends ehe had made under such queer circumstances and returned to her northern home. A month later she wrote to Mrs. Stewart: "Congratúlate me, good friends. lam married to Jack and happy as a queen. Teil this, please, to Mr. 'Alezander Graville.' He may suffer some lingering remorse for 'disappointing me, and I bear