MARRIED LOVERS.

Cromwell Argus, Volume XXX, Issue 1514, 17 May 1898, Page 2

MARRIED LOVERS.

It is always pleasant fco see the gallantry and thoughtfulness of the young lover manifesting themselves in the husband of three score and ten. The writer remembers being at a little country railroad station when a white-haired old man and a woman almost as far along in years drove up to the door in an antiquated buggy, to which was attached a horse long past its youth. Shabby as were the old man's turnout and garments, and simple minded as he seemed his bearing to his aged wife was courtliness itself.

" Don't try to git out of the buggy until I hitch old Ned and help ye," he sard, as he slowly climbed out.

He stumbled back and almost fell when helping the old lady out, so that she came to the ground rather heavily. "Didn't hurt ye, did it, ma t" he asked, with tender solicitude. "I don't know what made me so clumsy and kerrless." Then he brushed the dust from her dress with his red cotton handkerchief, and carefully righted the bonnet, that bad become awry during the ride to the station. " Now you sit right here, ma, an' I'll see to things," he said as he led her to a seat in a shady corner of the room, and made it comfortable with the shawls she carried. VVhen he returned he said

" Don't feel any skeery 'bant goin' off alone, do ye, ma? Fve wished a hundred limes I could go too, but you know we both can't leave home at this time o' the year a'n I ain't skeered but you'll get along all right. Aaron'll meet you sure when you git there and' don't fail to have him drop me a card right off let tin me know if you're all right." Just before the train arrived he came over to where I was sitting and asked me where I was " bound fer."

" For M ,"I replied. " You don't say," he said gleefully. "VVell.mebbe then ye wouldn't mind lookin' after my wife a little, she's goin to M , too. Called there snddent by the sickness of our daughter Km rift. She ain't travelled alutie none, an' 1 feel real guilty lettin' her start alone now, but it ain't so that we kin both go. I know it ain't but forty miles, but I'll feel easier to know that some one'll tell her when she gits there an' help her off the train, mebbe. She can't see so very well, an' her hearin'" an't none too good." I gladly agreed to give the old lady all necessary assistance, and the old gentleman was profuse in his thanks. I had taken " quite a load off his mind," he declared. He kissed his wife good-bye two or three times when the train came in, and stood on the station platform waving his red handkerchief as it moved away, while the old old lady's handkerchief fluttered from her window in loving response until the station was quite out of sight.