Litchfield enquirer., 1873-04-17
From the Every saturday.l 4 BUNCH OF vioLETS.

bA0 1S02y 0@S04u2J-l j 4 BUNCH OF vioLETs. ] ''I say. will you lend me 8 hand, please ?-Pm in . mess
 It was . small, boyish voice, that rosa somewhat shxilly above the clamor of the
 birds, and the babbling of the river over which the owner of the voice hung sus- pended. His arms were thrown roand a l branch, that bent with his weight. His trim suit of black velvet was the worse for
 brambles, and his scarlet cap had badges of messy green hue upon it. Neverthe- 1 less. the round rosy face under the cap had & certain undaunted bravery, that seemed to contradict that sharp tone of dismay in which the boy made his ap- peal.
 The wanderer in the wood below looked 1 up smilingly, and said ,-"Keep a firm then, hold me fast, st,-thats right. And now tell me what g wee laddie like you can be doing all alone in the wood ?'
 The boy did not answer; he was busy examining his torn kniekerbockers and the 1 patches on his cap. He shook his head at the rents, and began rubbing the cap with his sleeve.
 1 "Tm m for row, he said, speculative ly; "but should have got ducking as well if you had mt passed by. must have dropped soon,-splash, ,-see here p' ] The stranger took the little delicate, childish hand in his, and saw that the 1 fingers were grazed and bleeding. "Poor little man l" said he.
 90, that's nothing, you know. But I'm l forgetting. Thank you for pulling me down. Let me see, now," said the small man, grayely.-'I don't know your face. Ton don't belong to Corven? ?" ''Nc," was the reply.
 ''A stranger ?" said the boy. From & long way of. eh?",
 Pretty well, was the reply.
 ':Ah, then you know nothing about it ?' said the boy. ''That's the village over the water there: and this is corven Wood Do your friends know you are here by yourself?"
 70. they know I'm somewhere about. replied the boy; 'but of course I shall tell them all about it. That is our house. -you can see bit of the chimneys through the trees. 1t used to be farm. house. But my father doesn't farm,-he's gentleman. Do you have to do any thing s-te . .oFk. ! mean,-or are you
 The stranger laughed,-a leu, quiet laugh, like a musical note. It seemed to strike even the boy, for he stopped rub ping his cap to look curiously into his companion's face. He did not know what the eyes, half grave, half humorous, that met Als axR: Hs kpey nothing of that strange pathos which has it's element of regret, but larger one, perhaps. of pity, that steals into the heart of the man who has known sorrow. and wrong, aud buffet. ing, at the sight of such Q child ss this. The boys life lay before him an unwrittsn page, and be stood at the beginning of it with fearless front, thoughtless of care and contemptuous of danger. Involunta- strangers face, he drew nearer, and touch ed the knapsack that was slung over one shoulder.
 'I didn't mean that you mightnt be a gentleman, of course" said he ssbut then you carry that yourself. Papa doesn't. carry his. My name is Antony, but they call me Tony; what is yours? because I shall have to tell about you"
 My name is Noel Caperne," and do work for my living. I am painter"
 Mrster Tony looked again dubiously at the knapsack, and began to think of cer- cain beings with paper caps and an incu- rable habit of whistling popular airs, who had been occupied about the woodwork of his fathers house. He decided that his new friend could not belong to that class.
 ''OH said he, 'ta painter We'll, I tell you what, it would be very jolly if you would come home with me. Papa won't scold me before stranger. That's what people would call downy of me, isn't it.
 'T am rather downy chap, and that's the truth. Aunt Lucy would like to thank you. She's fond of me, though she is bit sharp, sometimes. You won't? must go. then. Good by, Mir. Caperne."
 The lad went few steps and turned ir- resolutsly then he ran back and put out his scared little fingers to the stranger who worked for his living.
 ''I forgot to shake hands" said he. ''I say. I've got box of colors, myself, and should like to see what sort of hand you are at painting. I almost al- ways bring Aunt Lucy to the wood some time in the day she likes it. If come tomorrow will you bring me picture to look st,-a swell one?"
 Mir. Caperne put his hand on the child's scarlet cap with smile.
 CAHA4 DC uAAAC9 away tO-1uOEKOW, 16O" dle. Good by. and don't climb. There hand to help you down."
 The Spring air was very sweet in Cor ven Wood and the birds sang to the &C., compartment of the npplng river with 6 jolly abandon that must have fascinated the strange artist. At any rate something did since he was not miles away on the morrow. He was in the wood again od- ly enough, at about the same hour that had found him there the day before. I don't know whether he expected to meet the small man again, or why he altered his plans perhaps he did not know him. self. He looked over the village, which was to have been simply pausing place for refreshment at the fckle sunshine throwing light and shadows over the wood, which was so beautiful even in the winter baroness, and thought that a day might be well spent in such place.
 Mir. Noel Caperne sat on messy stone by the river, and watched @. squirrell sprinning from branch to branch, tlll the brown fur began to turn into a velvet coat, and he caught himself wandering back to yesterdays adventure, and specu- lating as to what sort of a reception the little chap had met with at home. All at l once, he put his bearded chin into his hands. and bent perplexsd frown upon the river.
 There s something in his face I've seen before" said the artist to himself. sT | wonder what it is. A fancy of mine, per- haps. Don't believe that though. What ever it is, circumstances not pleasant have to do with it. am fool.
 Here he broke into laugh which the very solitude of the wood around him seemed to rebuke and silence Of course he was a fool The day was declining. and he had & stage of his journey before him i; what was the use of sitting on a moss-eovsred stone speculating on ghost ly resemblances?
 As he got up from the stone MT. Ca- perne heard voices, and paused. A little below him there was turn in the path, | T