The New era. [volume] (Martinsburg, W. Va.) 1865-1871, 1865-09-28
BOB o. LINK.
BY FITZ-JAMES o'BRIEN.


for their accustomed low, mysterious
speech The Long Island shore white
and crescent ted barred its bosom like
Danae to the golden embraces OF the
sun. In the meadows the heavy-crested
grasses with nodding heads beat time TO
the sweet wash Of waves upon the beach:
yellow spires Of the golden-rod pierced
the air like steeples. The tulip-tree,
robed like priest in ferial green, held
up to heaven with branching arms, a
thousand chalices. Far away across the
Sound lay the Connecticut shore tremb-
ling through mist, while behind me,
from the green recesses of deserted
garden, the oriole poured forth his mono
tone of sorrow.
AS | sauntered down the little path
that led from the cid house where | was
boarding for the Sumner, to my favorite
haunt by the sea-sfore, with clouds Of
insects springing from the grass like a
living spray at every step took, ! sud-
denly heard the saucy notes of that low
comedian OF birds, the Bob % Link. As
l have always had q friendly feeling to-
to work to obtain an interview with him.
was not longin discovering his where
abouts. He was sitting on the stump of
a rail chattering vehemently, and as well
as understood his language, impudent-
ly; preening his feathers, cooking his
head on one side, as if he had a passion
for seeing Nature upside down, and
shaking his wings as though he contem-
plated an immediate migration to the
coast of Africa. About every half min
ute or so he would suddenly leave his
perch, and flying a little distance, flop
into the long meadoW-grass, whence in
stantly would proceed a most astounding
vocal effort, after which he would reap
pear and resume his rail in triumph.
His frequent journeys to the same spot
led me to suspect that he had some pri-
waite interest in that quarter-a nest, or
young bride perhaps, and that he was
in fact passing his honeymoon 50 l
walked toward the place in which saw
him disappear last, determined to be
witness of his domestic bliss.
1t seemed to me that human head
was lying alone and bodiless in the deep
green sea of grass that surround me. 4
beautiful youths head, blonde and spir-
ltual, looking up at me with a calm, I'M
frightened look, while nesting close to
its pale, rounded cheek, hushed and ra-
Their astonished by my appearance, sat
Master Bob o Link.
The head, however, was not without
body. The long bending grass met over
the form, leaving exposed only the pale,
beautiful place, which looked like an
exquisite Venetian picture framed in
gold,aad green.
Good morning, sir, said the youth N
q sweet voice as bent over nun, looking
l suppose a little beWildered at this sud-
den appaiition, and fondli19 at the same
time Master Bob % Link with long
slender fingers. Good morning, ST
Good morning., :, | answered q, o.
He gave a sudden glance doMnWard
toward hls feet, and q SAD smile fllckered
over his lips.
j am obliged to take things quietly
he said.
An! on invalid I suppose. an
sorry
I am paralyzed, Sir
No words can paint the tone Of utter
despair in which he made this terrible
statement. If you have ever spoken
with man who had spent twenty wears
in solitary confinement, you will have
noticed the unearthlv calm of his voice
the low monotone Of sound. the loneli,
ness Of accent. Wei. this lads voice
ca,,,,1o1 - IL m, =, A.,