The Ebensburg Alleghanian. [volume] (Ebensburg, Pa.) 1865-1871, 1865-10-12

state, and | can now sec that my perfect
enjoyment as [ watched the changing col
ors on the mountains, as the sun set that
evening, and the unusual anxiety [ felt
for the happiness and welfare of the world
at large, would, had l been wise, have
| been enough to warn me that my frame of
mind was very dangerous. [ remember
everything that night now, as if 1t was
only yesterday the very order in which
the stars came out, as the darkness closed
in. The blazing comet curving almost
from the Alps on the left, to the distant
mountains on the other side of the lake,
and the perfect reflections in the still
black water below If | shut my eyes, |
can still see it all just as it was then. l
got up and wandered down to the pier,
and as | leaned over the railing, the third
symptom, longing melancholy, began to
creep over me- 1t was heavenly night.
Presently the quiet reflection of the comet
broke up, and spread into two dancing
lines of light, as the red and green lamp
of steamer came in sight, and soon. the
vessel splashiug up woke me from my
reverie
There were not SO many passengers late
in the season. Three tourists in dirty
coats with the regulation knapsacks and
alpenstocks, a dozen working men carrying
their own atmosphere of garlic with them,
few poor women, and a sprightly French
maid, in busting anxiety for a pile of
boxes, and last, her slight young English
mistress, In black One might as well
try to paint the scent OF violet as TO con-
| vey in words and notion of the charms of
the sweet face / gazed into, as she stepped
out of the boat. Comet, lake, mountains,
all were forgotten IN an instant In the
presence of her higher beauty; and l
slept that night-if sleep it were-with
the "thank you," which rewarded me as
| stopped to pick up her shawl, still sound
ing in my ears, and every nerve futteriug
| from the contact with her small hand.
1t would be sacIi.egious to tell all the
incidents of the next few days. We met
and talked at the table d'hote. She was
| going to Old Chillon; | had been there
twice, but could not leave without anoth-
er visit. She was curious to explore the
salt mines at Bex; but could not go alone.
| Acquaintances formed under such circum-
stances soon ripen into friendships and
| friendships soon grow into something
more. She was a young widow (Mrs
Smith was her name j that was all knew,
or cared to know but long before l lett
the dear hotel, there was no concealing it,
| was over head and ears in love. But
what of that 4? [ was twenty-five Ca year
at least older than she,) the owner of
fine estate aud with all my difidence felt
sure that my presence and attentions were
! not unpleasant 20 her.
Never was lover more happy than I, as
[ said "Good- by ~ and started off to meet
a friend on business in Paris, with a warm
invitation to call on her in Rue,
where she hoped tc arrive very soon after
me, on her way home
Madame was ratigued with the journey,
and was lying down, learned from Su-
zette when the tedious days were over,
and the time had come for me to know
my fate. The absence had decided me,
anc my mind was quite made up, that life
without her would be worthless.
"Would monsieur sit down on the sofa,
and madame should know who had called y
said the little woman, as she frisked out
of the room, with an arch look over her
shoulder, which made me feel hot
The door opened, and she came softly
in. / jumped and kicked my rat over,
blushed, and felt my hand get hot and
damp as l held it out.
''Oh Mr.. Jones it is very good of you
to call. | thought you would have been
sure to have gone to England, or forgotten
all about u.s. Sit down here and lie. me
tell you all about those horrid railway
| people"
! I sympathized with her, and wished |
had been there, of course, as [ listened to
the story of trunk which was near being
| put on the wrong train ; and as the con-
versation tagged, felt my forehead getting
| hotter still. (Paris was SO close , L think
| she guessed why [ twiddled my hat and
| brushed it the wrong way for she looked
! shy too, but mere beautiful than ever. 1t
was getting painful [ twiddled my hat
| haroer than ever. I don't believe [ should
ever have spoken another word but she
recovered her presence of mind first and
began again.
"Oh! you must let me show YOU my
photographs; they are SO lovely; got
them in Geneva. Here is the dear old
Dent du Midi. There is one somewhere
of the funny old convent we went together
to see on the other side of the Rhone, on
your last day.
You remember my slipping as we clam
| bered up on to the marble rock behind
the garden, to peep at the nuns! You
don't know how bad my ankle was after.
wards | did not get cut at all the day
YOU went, and could not even come down