Montgomery County sentinel. [volume] (Rockville, Md.) 1855-1974, 1859-03-11
5ARYLAND, FRIDAY MORNING, MARCH II, 1859.


wedding onions, or drop it before get
in the house. Then she is half angry,
aud calls me real boor, and says she
knows dozens handsomer men than am
who would give ten dollar bill for such
a bouquet from her l tell her they must
be very silly fellows, and then quietly
leave her.
never offer to assist her in or out
Of the chaise and when size asks me
why | do not, I reply, that Mother and
cousin Julia always help themselves,
and | though she could then she springs
gayly out, calling me "a hcathon.' A
week ago, we were at the we'll, and she
had watched the messy bucket as it brim-
med up from the pebbly bottom and
trickled down the messy sides. | had
just raised it, and the sweep was poised
in mid air, and She asked me to hold the
bucket still for her to drink from it. A
moment held it, and then suddenly let
ting 90, | halloed at some cattle. and
started off on full run as if to drive them
out-the water dashed full upon her
She was thoroughly drenched from head
to foot; and with an angry cry, dashed
into the house. Mother tried to per-
suado her that it was Johns awkward
ness, but she ayeued it was his ugli-
ness; and for three long days she never
needed my call in the morning, OF spoke
to me at all.
ION the fourth day, was in The hay
field, lounging under the great locust
tree, had been reading that sweet song,
The Millcr's Daughter, by Tounyson
I was dreaming of Clara, and the book
had fallen from my hands Suddenly |
was startled by Clara's exclamation Of
John Meyer, you reading Tennyson !
and such a superb copy too, ? and she
caught up the book and daint:ly fingered
the antique binding, 'Pshawr said !,
completely discounted, it's queer book
that just picked up-your cousin Julia
liked It, and wanted me to read it, She
looked puzzled, but apparently believed
my story
" We made no allusion to the bucket
affair, but resumed our old habits as Il
nothing had happened Mornings, we
were in the garden, Or she would persuade
me to ride. never did it without much
persuasion; though Heaven knows, ]
loved her well enough to have lain down
and been trodden under her horses hoofs.
| am determined to curb that proud spirit
which mars all her better qualities, and
cxtcrminato her petty passion for coquet-
ry, Does she ask me to do anything for
her, / am quite sure to be too busy Or
to have no time.
"For n while, il was incomprehonsible
to her. that there was one person who
would not fly to fulfill her wishes; but
she soon came to believe that | thought
as much Of myself as of her and at last
that loved myself best. 1t was a new
idea to her, that there was a man living
who would not saccumb to her influences I;
much less was it to be believed that a
mere country fellow could be insensiblc
TO her attractions could even in her pre-
sence talk Of the charms Of some rustic
Julia At first surprise filled her eyes,
then she was scorufully Indignant; but
! moved on with the same stoical indif-
ference to all her moods, until she be-
came curious to understand so strange a
piece Of mechanism and the more puz-
cling became the machinery, the more
interest she took in its dissection. And
at last, I would find her at the gate, or
in the path, watching my return from the
field, and hanging with interest upon
what said to her She no longer de-
spiscd, but had determined to subduo
me.
Thus matters passed on for six weeks
4, impassiyc as ever, and she becoming
moro and more interested as the maze
grew intricate.
Gone golden September day, she had
by dint of much coaxing, persuaded me
out into the woods, though ! told her it
was as good os DAY lost She was half
wild with joy TO hear such bird songs
and to tread on such volyety moss. Al
ways n passionate lover of Mature,
could hardly restrain my enthusiasm ~
Time aud again she would say: 'If YOU
could only repeat some Of Bryanfs,
SCOTS, or Mrs Browning's poems to
me, | would be so glad
Loading her to n seat beside me, on
a high rock, pointed to her over the
edge, a narrow cascade which leapod
and foamed and seethed among the dark
rocks far below us, then | said.
Clara, you have seen that still, sill
yer brook in the meadow where the blue
Aags blossom (?
eyes she said, surprised at my
changed iutonatlous.
Well, do you remember telling me
one day in the bayfield, that it was the
LATEST brool, that ever ran"
Indeed [ do
''Aud this Is the same brook
" 1T cannot be p
alt surely is, said I, and let me tell
you there are thousands Of human lives
always about us, that in the common
light Of the world, run just as lazily.-
70 those who idly scan them, they appear
to set 10 fruitIess GIBBS and flows are
passive receivers Of sun and shadc-still
mirrors Of starr that arc far of but
away Of alone, ia the unseen hours, those
human currents, the stilcst Of them, %
rushing madly, wildly, through just such
dark, rugged caverns II is ia the dark
moss Of their own nights that they scctlc, /
and foam, and ache, and leap up 70 meet
the sunlight Of their aspirations. In the I
everyday air, they glide smoothly on
Then I repeated number Of poems to .