The daily phoenix. [volume] (Columbia, S.C.) 1865-1878, 1865-08-11
BOB o. LINK.

thousand tongues in wood and field
too faint for their accustomed low.
mysterious speech, The Long Island
shore, white and crescented, barred it's
bosom like Danae to the golden en-
braces OF the sun. In the meadows.
the heavy-crested grass 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-trce, robed like u
priest IN tereal green, held up to Hea-
ven with branching arms a thousand
golden challces. Far away across the
Sound lay the Connecticut shore.
trembling through mist, while behind
me, from the green recesses of a de-
serted garden, the oriole poured forth
It's monotone of sorrow.
AS sauntered down the little path
that led from the old house where T
was boarding for the summer, to nv
favorite haunt by the r-shore, with
clouds OF insects springing from the
grass like living spray at every step
L took, suddenly heard the saucy
notes of that low comedian of birds.
the Bob O. Link. AS l have ALWAYS
had friendly feeling towards this or
astrological ta1ceur, set to work to
obtain an Interview with him. I was
not long in discovering his where
abouts. He was sitting on the stump
of u rail, chatting vehemently, and rs
well as I understood his language.
1mPudently;. presenting his feathers,
cockng his head on one side, as if he
had passion for seeing nature up
side down, and shaking his wings as
though he contemplated an Immediate
migration to the coast of Africa.
About every half minute or so, he
would suddenly leave his perch, and.
flying a little distance, flop into the
lopg meadow grass, whence Instantly
would proceed most astoundino
vocal effort, after which he would re.
appear and resume his rail in triumph.
His frequent journeys to the same
spot led me to suspect that he had
some private interest in that quarter
"a nest, or a young bride, perhaps.
and that he was, in fact, passing his
honeymoon; so walked toward the
place in which I 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 sea- green of grass that surround
ed me. A beautiful youths head,
blonde and spiritual, lookingup at me
with calm, unfrightened look.
while resting close to its pale, round
ed cheek, hushed and rather astonish-
ed 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 onlv
the pale, beautiful face, which looked
Like an exquisite Venetian picture
framed in gold and green.
"Good morning, sir, said the youth,
IN a sweet voice, as bent over him,
looking, [ suppose, little bewildered
at this sudden apparition, and fond
ling, at the same time, Master Bob o.
Link, with slender fingers. "Good
morning, sir"
Good morning, answered; ''you
seem to be taking things quietly
here
He gave a sudden glance downward
toward his feet, and sad smile flick
cred over his lips.
II am obliged to take things quiet
ly," he said.
"Ah, an Invalid. suppose? 1 am
sorry"
II am paralyzed, sir"
No words can paint the tone of utter
despair in which he made this terrible
statement. If you haye ever spoken
with man who had spent twenty
years IN solitary confinement, you will
have noticed the unearthly calm OF
hls voice, the low monotone of sound,
'he loneliness Of accent. Well, this