Raftsman's journal. [volume] (Clearfield, Pa.) 1854-1948, 1869-04-07


greatest fool he-my gracious u For Sui
tan, my horse, gave plunge just ther. l
had unconssiously given him merciless cut
with the whip, and it required all my
strength and elfpossession to calm him
down again Still never spoke-my teeth
were tightly set together and could feel a
burning spot In the centre of each cheek,
which seemed as if they must glow in the
dark like live Goals, but waited instructive
ly to hear more
Now, you re not vexed with me, Bruce"
murmured Kate, Just because mentioned
George Withwood's name? You know
don't care two straws about him-a conceit-
ed, silly blockhead, that fancies girl is in
love with him, just because she happens oe-
casionally TO smile at his foolish speeches 1
assure you. Bruce, I've never seriously en-
couraeed him. but girl must have some
thing to amuse her in dull country place
like this. George WILDWOOD. indeed, as if
| could care for him when you are near,
Bruce How he will stare when he gets our
wedding cards Eext weekl"
She broke out laughing-that merry, me-
lodious laugh which had been music to nv
ears so many times, in our lonely woodland
rambles and twilight gossips beneath the
vine draped porch. How differently it
sounded to me now the hollow resonance
of some tuneless instrument-how could l
ever have fancied it sweet
I've worn my engagement ring tonight
Bruce she went on coaxingly; ''there' no
use keeping the matter secret any longer,
and want to see what the eirls will all say.
You've no objection have you, Bruce, for
dear me-what is the matter? We can't
have reached Slopersville yet I'm surel"
The long line of sleighs had come TO a
stand still-one, not unlike my own ,detatch-
ed itself from the rest, and jingied up to our
/ own.
Why. shes here What on earth does
this jugglery moan?" demanded the voice
not particularly melodious one-of Mr..
| Bruce Barnwell Kate started up with a
slight Shrek
Where am I? Who is this in the sleigh?"
she cried.
Pray don't disturb yourself, Miss Aspen
dale, " saiirically growled Mr. Barnwell; ev-
identity there was an abundant spice of the
grim Othello in his temperament IF you
prefer Mr.. Withwood's company to mine,
! it's all right
Mr.. Withwoodr' reneated Kate wildly.
'Oh, mercy 1t can't be possible!''
Some one held up lantern: l looked
full into Kate Aspendale' splendid dark
eyes,
| Now, If [ had been a woman, what voliies
Of satire | could have fired into the enemy s
camp-what red hot Goals of taunting jocos-
ity | could have heaped upon Kate's de-
fenceless head. But being a man. left her
to the punishment of her own recollections,
and bowed with all the courtesy 1 could CON-
mand
Permit me to assist you into the other
sleigh. Miss Aspendale, | said. when
Mr.. Barnwell understands that it was my
mistake that you entered this eqnipage, he
will pardon any appearance of awkwardness
in the affair."
Without single word Kate Aspendale
descended from my sleigh and was assisted
into that of Mr.. BarnweI, who still sat up
right and irate. staring Indignantly around
| him.
Good evening, Miss Aspendale, said,
unable to resist the temptation of launching
back one Parthian arrow, as drove away,
! Il shall expect to receive the cards very
soon."
Alice, my blue eyed cousin, was sewing
alone in the room when returned home
She looked up in surprise as entered.
Home SO soon ?'' she said 81 hardly
expected to see you so early"
Didn't you, Alice - l sat down beside
her. But you see wanted to say some
thing very particular to you
''George!"
Upon my word, Alice, I'm in earnest. :"
So [ was. After the stormy reign of Kate
Aspendale in my heart, Alice's sweet face
seemed ike dream of repose for which l
longed with an undescribed longing.
And the next day went on a second
sleigh ride with my dove eyed little .tfancee,
and our cards were out IN the same week with
those of ''Nlr and Mrs. Bruce Barnwell. -
|
An Irishn,an entered barber shop while
drunk ate with brush cup of lather, dug
out the ball of soap atthe bottom of the cup,
ate that, and sat down to warm his feet.
How did you like your lunch?" asked by
stander. The custard was Elegant /; but,
by my sowl, b'lave the egg was little too
| long in the wather.
|
90 u
other day, and requested each applicant for