, and take 'em by
and large, they're better'n men. Now and then a feller gets hitched to a
hedgehog, but most of 'em get a woman that's too good for 'em. They're
gentle and kind, and runnin' over with good feelin's, and will stick to
a fellow a mighty sight longer'n he'll stick to himself. My woman's dead
and gone, but if there wan't any women in the world, and I owned it, I'd
sell out for three shillin's, and throw in stars enough to make it an
object for somebody to take it off my hands.

"Some time ago," resumed Woodcock. "I heerd the little ones and some of
the old ones tellin' what they was goin' to give Mary Pynchon when she
got married; and it set me to thinkin' what I could give her, for I
knew if anybody ought to give her anything, it was me. But I hadn't any
money, and I couldn't send to the Bay for anything, and I shouldn't 'a
known what to get if I could, I might have shot a buck, but I couldn't
'a brought it to the weddin', and it didn't seem exactly ship-shape to
give her anything she could eat up and forget. So I thought I'd give her
a keepsake my wife left me when she died. It's all I've got of any vally
to me, and it's somethin' that'll grow better every day it is kep', if
you'll take care of it. I don't know what'll come of me, and I want to
leave it in good hands."

The bride began to grow curious, and despite their late repulse the
group began to collect again.

"It's a queer thing for a present, perhaps, (and Woodcock's lip began to
quiver and his eye to moisten,) but I hope it'll do you some service.
'Taint anything't you can wear in your hair, or throw over your
shoulders. It's--it's--"

"It's what?" inquired Mary, with an encouraging smile.

Woodcock took hold of the hand of his child, and placing it in that of
the questioner, burst out with, "God knows that's the handle to it," and
retreated to the window, where he spent several minutes looking out into
the night, and endeavoring to repress the spasms of a choking throat.
Neither Mary Holyoke nor her husband could disguise their emotions, as
they saw before them the living testimonial of Woodcock's gratitude and
trust. Mary stooped and kissed the gift-child, who clung to her as
if, contrary to her father's statement, she was an article of wearing
apparel.

* * * * *

=_John Esten Cooke,[71] 1830-._=

From "Estcourt, or the Memoirs of a Virginia Gentleman."

=_311._= THE PORTRAIT.

"I see you are prep