The daily phoenix. [volume] (Columbia, S.C.) 1865-1878, 1869-07-30


turies have been washing that ohalkF
bound coast, and at intervals there stand
ap3 pillars Of schslk, with sseas arpund
them. Tie people cali sucha place ~No
Mans Lane, and, "aRd nc man a Ca can s own it,
within d few feet, isdy twelve, from the
Junior"-I think I see his bright face
now-"I challenges you to jump on that
No Mans Land do.
"Joe, said I. hurriedly, a''don't be a
fool!., 1t maybe, ;wonld; give way at the
top, and il it did not, how could you
Jump back without run? You'd be
stuck on the top like q mad sentinel or
pillar saint I'm not going to jump
"But I am," said he. And before I
could stop him, if need tried, he took
a run and jumped.
It was so sudden I could only stand
aghast when saw. him there. He stood,
indeed, for O moment, and then he took
q back step, and would have jumped
back, when heard rumbling sound,
and half the top Of the :No Mans
Land" part, and the chalk and earth,
and Joe, too, fell down with a crash on
the rocky coast below.
I RAN round the little creek to the
other side Of small bay, and throwing
myself down on the turf, stretched my
neck over, looked over and cried out:
Joe! Are you hurt, Joe?"
A faint voice came up, and could see
the poor fellow struggling under huge
piece OF chalk, which seemed to hold
him down in agony. He smiled in n
ghastly way, and said: "Run, Joe, run!
the tides coming inP' 3 H,E
Well, I did run, and we got ropes from
the tents, and few strong fellows, held
them as Iswung over the cliff, just reach
ing poor Joe as the water was lap, lap,
tapping up to his mouth, taking away
his breath, and then running back,
crawling over him, and leaving bubbles
Of salt foam, as if in sport. I got him
out, but he could not stand. Some
bones were broken, and he was badly
bruised, so that I was forced to tie him
to rope, and they hauled him up, and
we took him home.
Well. we'll, to make long story short,
poor Joe died, with my praise on his
lips, and Alice bowed her head like n
broken lily. It was long time before
she got over it, and summer had grown
into winter, and winter to summer, to
autumn, and to winter again. The
threatening invasion was all over; our
swords were getting rusty, our uniforms
dirty, and when the holidays came, I
left the firm of which was q partner,
and went to spend fortnight at my old
friends in Kent.
Alice was there, we'll and cheerful now,
and reconciled to her loss, though we
often talked of poor Joe, and as the
days wore on, we grew closer together,
and she called me by name, and seemed
to have transferred her brothers love to
me. She never told me so, or let others
see it, till one merry Christmas night,
when she rejected all her cousins and
her other friends, and would only dance
with me.
We had the mistletoe, too. At last,
one madcap follow proposed that the
ladies should kiss the gentlemen all round
when and how they could; and Alice
should play, too; and she, in a solemn,
quiet way, smiling sadly, and: yet sweet
ly, too, took me beneath the Christmas
bough, and kissed me on the lips.
Aye, it's mNny years ago, but I feel it
now.
My heart beat so fast that hardly
dared return it; but put my arm around
her and took her gently by the bay-win-
dow of the old hall, saying as I pressed
her hand: 'Alice, dear Alice, did you
mean that kiss?"
Well, need not tell you what she
answered. 'Tis fifty years ago, fifty
years ago! and I am surrounded by
Alice's grand children, and there is one,
little thing with light and golden hair
that will deepen into brown, who plays
around my knees and tells me her little
stories, her. sorrows and her joys; SO
quick, so hurried in their coming and
their going, that they are like my own,
and as we talk, we grow quite friends and
companions, rs my Alice was to me.
Bless you, she understands it all. She
is woman in her pretty ways; her pout-
ingsspettings and quarrelings. She ma
nages her household of one wax doll and
two wooden ones, and tells me-for the
wax doll is the lady and the two wooden
ones are the servants in mob-caps and
stuff gowns-when they gossip with a
wooden policeman, who belongs to her
brother, little Joe.