Beadle's Dime Novels No. 47: Tim Bumble's Charge — page 48: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

46 TIM BUMBLE’S CHARGE. ; “Tf any thing should happen,” murmured Mr. Reynolds, in an undertone. ‘“ Sometimes, wife, I feel miserably about this match. We are not sure of his entire recovery ; and what were all the wealth and position compared to a fate like that ?” “ She ed to feel so for some time,” said*his wife, thoughtfully ; “ but the poor child has loved him for y<ers, and the pleadings of Anne and Mr. Lattison effected the mat- ter at last. I think we have been wise in saying as little as possible, and, after laying the possible consequences before her, leaving her to her own judgment. It is strange that Harrison prefers, with his want of experience, to go into act- ive business.” “ His partner understands enough for both. He is a fine, capable fellow, so my brother says, who is much interested in him, and thinks there never was another like him. I don’t know that I quite agree with you about business affairs. I think it will give Harrison constant and active employment, which he needs. Let us hope for the best, wife. It is very certain that there is no hereditary taint in his blood, and a more beautiful, bright, determined creature I never saw. I love him already like a son.” At that moment a carriage drove up to the house. Two venerable faces looked forth on the little throng that was in- stantly gathered in the veranda to greet them. Still hale, hearty and handsome, grandfather Reynolds needed no assist- . ance from the vehicle. : “ Well, children,” he said, as they gave him a loving wel- come, “I have come to the wedding.” q “ And I, too,” cried grandmother Reynolds, who was lean- ing on the arm of her son. “I’m so young and smart,” she _ continued, smiling, “I don’t _know but you will want me for one of the bridesmaids.” . By evening a pleasant company sat in the eheerful parlor. ine Lattison and her brother were there; the old people, he¢ and smiling, sat in arm-chairs, looking around them 1 thankful hearts. Arty, and a young lady acquaintance of her own age, were seated at a table, and from the chande- lier above fell a flood of mellow light on the beautifully-colored plates of Wook fall: of ‘Indien: faces, groupe and comtaes > cdlmichooks:com