commissioned officer in the war of 1812. My father came from Connecticut, of English ancestry. I used to tell my mother the only thing I could never

ans, and from earliest childhood I was accustomed to

Clinton avenue. Doctor Diller, the rector, who lost his life in the burning of a steamboat on the East River, w

old gentleman, now gathered to his fathers, was one of Hon. Seth Low's "Cabinet," when he was Mayor of Broo

ttee in charge of the social meetings of the young peo

erest, owing to the fact that a niece of Mr. Sherman, residing in Chicago and then visiting him for the winter, was to

eeply impressed, and I have since learned that the lady, who had heard

disproved, for two weeks later, after returning from the second sociable,

u think of

I then told her I had lost my heart an

lky hair, was most attractive. A clear olive complexion, charming features, and beneat

ted she was a most interesting conversationalist

ng I never have been able to understand, unless it was because our interco

sible opportunity for the enjo

aily intercourse and enabled me to fathom the noble nature of the girl,

erings she was always the life of the occasion, but never did her merriment get down to the level of silliness

Miss Wilson had many admirers-alto

throb because of news that some flame left behind in Chicago was burning brighter. When that would dim or become exti

eel I was steadily gaining my way to the goal, I cannot say that I did

lson left Brooklyn for a vi

evident, her reception so cordial, that I dismissed from my mind all fear of my r

g. I was restless and unhappy. We did not correspond, so th

om her cousin and good-natured enough to permit me to spend most of the evening in talking about her. I was certainly very muc

iss Wilson returned to Brooklyn. She was to remain but

yet now that the opportunity had arriv

he woman I loved, that I loved her, and yet when the time had come my courage waned. I let day aft

reason wi

ociates were of the right kind, business prospects satisfactory. Why should I hesitate to offer a hand that

vening of Ju

ressive, but after sundown a

od for a few moments beneath the foliage of his fine old tree

h a feeling of awe at

bout to

I thought of all it meant, to take a girl from a home in which she was loved and happy, to bind her to me for all time, to share what might come of good or evil in t

general conversation with the family, and af

ur had

ing. I stood beside her while she sat there, and in tones trembling with the intensity of my feelings I

on of the offer and also of her complete surprise. She said that while she esteemed me highly as a friend and li

I learned that there was no one else-that she was still heart free, I gained courage; and when, before I had left her that evening,