iendship, under all circumstances. Please pardon any lack of coherence
or orderly arrangement of details, in what I am about to relate.

"Late in the month of November, which followed our parting in the
mountains, in accordance with previous arrangements, I took charge of
the church in the New England city, where my uncle George resided. My
relations with the members of the congregation, proved as pleasant as
could be desired. I became acquainted with Martha Merritt, my uncle's
niece by marriage. She was a beautiful girl! Very winning, sweet and
amiable. I soon became fond of her company. This seemed to please both
my uncle and my mother. I could see that they had set their hearts on a
marriage between Martha and myself.

"About the middle of the following January, acting on a suggestion from
uncle George, I asked Martha for her hand in marriage. After taking a
whole week for consideration, she finally consented and we were engaged.
Some days later, I urged her to name an early day for our wedding. Very
much to my surprise, she said 'You must not hurry me, George! You must
give me time!' I hastened to assure her that I did not wish to be
inconsiderate, and begged her to take another week, in which to fix the
date. During this time, I saw very little of Martha. In the brief
interviews that followed, she was pale and agitated. At the end of the
week, again her old-time self, she came to me with the news that our
wedding day had been fixed for the fifteenth of June, five months
distant.

"Early in February, the clouds of disaster began to gather. My mother
was confined to her bed with what proved to be a serious illness. After
four months of almost constant suffering, which she bore with the
patience and fortitude of a martyr, she was borne across the dark water,
to join that vast majority, that silent, mysterious, ever increasing
host of the buried dead.

"My mother was buried on the fifteenth of June. Overwhelmed with grief,
I readily assented to Martha's suggestion, that our wedding should be
postponed until the first of October. Recovering slowly from the shock
of my bereavement, I turned eagerly to Martha, for loving consolation. I
was horrified, to find that her affection for me had turned to
ill-concealed aversion! There was a terror-stricken, haunted look in her
eyes, as she strove in every possible way, to avoid being left alone
with me even for a moment, which frightened and almost crushed me with
grief. I kn