The Kenosha telegraph. [volume] (Kenosha, Wis.) 1860-1888, 1870-06-09

weaving wreaths Of laurel and syringa-
in very much the same attitude as he had
lain when first they met Nor was the
simiIitude greatly forced.
1 The weakness of an easy sensuous ma
i ture, that had found a dreamy exaltauion
in liquor, it is feared was now finding an
/ equal intoxication in love.
/ | think that Sandy was dimly consci-
Gus of this himself | know that he
ion red to be doing sonnething-slaying a
grizzly, scalping q savage, or sacrificing
| himself in some way for the sake of this
/ AS [ should like to present him In an
heroic attitude, | stay my hand with
great difficulty at this moment, being
only withheld from introducing such an
episode by strong conviction that it
does not usually occur at such times.
And l trust that my fairest reader who
remembers that, In real Crisis, il is
always some undressing stranger, or
unromantic policeman--and not Adolf
Iphus-who reseues, will forgive the omis-
sion 4s >1
So they sat there, undisturbed-the
wood,peckers chattering overhead, and
the voices of the children coming pleas
antly from the hollow below What
they said, matters little What they
thought--w Which might have been inter
Eesting--did nos transpire The wood
peckers only learned how Miss Mary was
an orphan; how she left her uncle,s house,
to come to California, tor the sake OF
lbealth and Independence how Sandy
lwas an orphan, too 4; how lie came to Cal
I, II
IA wild lite, and how he was trying TO re
form; and other details, from wood
pecker's view point, undoubtedly must
have seemed stupid, and waste of time.
| But even i'll such trit1es was the afternoon
spent and when the children were again
gathered, and Sandy, wltha delicacy
which the schOoimistress we'll understood,
took leave Of them quietly at the out
skirts of the settlement, it had seemed
the shortest day of her weary life.
AS the long dry summer withered to
its roots, the school term OF Red Gulcb
to use local euphuism---" dried up also
In another gay Miss Mary would be free,
and for season at least, Red Gulch
would know her no more. She was seat
ed alone in the school house her. cheek
4
in one or those day dreams in which Mis-,
Mary fear. to the danger ofschool dlei-
pline---was lately in the HABIT of indulg-
ing Her lap was full OF mosses ferns,
and other woodland memories She was
80 preoccupied with those and her own
thoughts that gentle tapping at the
door pasaed unheard, or translated itself
i into the remembrance Of far-off wood
/ peckers. When at last il asserted itself
more distinctly, she started up with a
flushed face aud opened the door. On
the threshold stood a woman, the self
assertion and audacity of whose dress
were in singular contrast TO her timid,
! irresolute bearing.
Miss Mary recognized at a glance the
dubious mother of her anonymous pupil.
Perhaps she was disappointed perhaps
she was only fastidIous--but as she coldly
Invited her to enter, she half unconscI-
ously settled her white cuffs and collar,
and gathered closer her own chaste
skirts. 1t was, perhaps, for this reason
] that the embarrassed stranger, after mo-
ment's hesitation, left her gorgeous para
sol open and sticking I'M the dust beside
the door, and then sat down at tho further
end of u long bench. Her voice was
husky as she began
" heerd tell that you were goin' down
to the Bay tomorrow, and couldn't let
\ you go until came to thank you for
your kindness to my Tommy"
Tommy, Miss Mary said, was good
boy and deserved more than the poor
attention she could give him.
"Thank you, Missi Thank We p cried
the stranger, Frightening even through
the color which Red Gulch knew FACET
ously as her " war paint, and striving in
her embarrassment to drag the long bench
nearer the aohoolmistress. " / thank you,
Miss, for that! and if / am his mother
there amt sweeter, dearer, ANGLER
teacher lives than he's got"
] Miss Mary sitting primly behind. her
desk, with ruler over her, shoulder
opened her gray eyes widely at this, but
said nothing. va s. .,.l 500.
! cit amt for you to be complimented
by the like of me she went on hurried
ly-"I know. It sin't for me to be comm
here, in broad day, to do it, either but l
come to ask favor--not for me Miss
not for me--but for the darling boy"
Encouraged by q look in the young
schoolmisstrcss's eye, and putting her
lilac gloved hands together, the fingers
| downward, between her knees, she went
on in q low, sad voice: tt.a@.
"You see Miss, there's no one the boy
has any claim On but me, and amt the
proper person to bring him up. / thought
some, last year, OF sending him sway to
Frisco to school, but when they talked
! of bringing school ma'am here, wait
ed till / saw you, and then I knew it was
llall, right, and | could keep. my boy a
little longer. And, ., Miss he loves you
so much; and if you could hear him tai k