The St. Cloud journal., 1873-07-10

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JULY IU.l 10, 1873. .ss -. =, <.s:s:... .5..:.
81 !. s;:;..... 81. =. :. ..sLE..: l. s..a
..itsd, : u t.llea', 1nos - =littlee,.
.pd,by I. asv za questions Ro.a, d,sv
from me oil about my own history
vhishathers wsssiisfy 1ittlsto tslt-And
Ttiiahit'wissh s,iassfe pity lot my
4usly, jtylee youth; ~bishi s,opsh.j
ea ny hsrt to7iAim! E2sDoss anybody
wonder thatI did not resent this feel
ing, 'ss Tam told people mostly do e r
can only say in reply that il should be-
remembered that nobody had sver5 b..
fore taken ths 'troubls even pity me.
Besides which, when Ross said, "Poor
ohild'!"I there was much of tenderness
vas, we'll as pity in his voics;- and,
child Or woman, she would have been
made Of strange material indeed, ,awho:
resented, ,.uy word Of endsfness from
Ross Kendall's,lips.-' K :>s& ",s>taoy @.:'-
Well, it :wassa pleasantaday. 1t is q
pleasant day to look back upon even
now, for it,wasaenly the beginning Of
others more pleasant still; IT il fortu-.
nate, perhaps, that I Ieannot slinger over
the details Of story which just here
xeuld sesm, mo doubt, commonplace
enough: onsei,io our lives; paradise
opeus forsall Of us out of the dull
earth; /; and days, golden with the light
Of tender romance, shine upon us with
. radiance like unto no other radiance
Of time. q Does i boot to count the cost
of the bitter desolatiou which often fol.
lows We can scarcely think that Eve
would have surrendered one memory Of
Rdes forEall the joys Of earth. Yet
phe must hsve dreamed many times Of
The desp:sreen bowers, tho shining Va:
ters; tho marvellous glistsaing fruits of
that fair domain, 'apd walked to weep
such tears Of unsvailing regret a. tave
swateredthis md planet: Of ours most;
Splentsously ever since. - '',.* :s7ssos
/ Tt vas w.s ID tho midst of my colorless
Life, In the season Of earth's most
touching sadness, that some days like
those Of which I have spoken came to
me. surrounded now by sorrow and
desolatiou- u-full Of pain and weariness
+ can thaok God for them yet.
Opening drawer in the desk at which
I am writing, some relics Of them lie
before me-changed, as the years
which have passed since then have no
doubt changed me, too. Brown leaves,
once golden and scarlet with the burn.
ing touch of autumn-leaves gathered
out on tho hillside with Ross-a
sketch Of me which he made one day
on the blank leaf of book, with "Lit.
tie Red Riding.hood'' scrawled lazily
underneath; q few other triaes equally
insignificant, and one short curl Of crisp,
dark hair. Few as they .re-these
tokens Of the p.st-they open the
whole treasure.house Of memory to me.
They bring b,ok wildly those lovely
days with their wealth Of unforgotten
words and tones, their soft breezes and
fair woodland fragrances. T seem to
meet the dark eyes, to hear the frank,
kind voice, and, if I lift my eyes to
present and a future which are alike
desolate, I can still thank God that
love-even our poor human love-
stands forever chief among the Immor-
tails. "... :
: Uncle Kendall was gone nearly
fortnight. To say that I lived an en-
ehanted life during this time, would be
to say very little indeed. For let it be
remembered-in justification, perhaps,
Of my follJ-that I had never before
had even SO much as kitten to love.
In my case there was no dividing and
subdividing Of affection into different
rills-no father, sisters, brothers, friends
to claim share Of my heart. All the
love which was mine to give, swept into
one great channel, and poured itself
for good or lll-at one mans feet.
Looking back now, I cannot regret it.
ltwas something-n.y, I am still mad
enough to think it was every thing
to have lived in the light Of his smile
for ten long, golden days, and heard
him Say a,thousand times in accent be.
fore he ever said in words, that he loved
me. .s.a -: :. ..ss.> : ..'+ ....:
+ When At last he did speak, it seemed
like something which: had been long
acknowledged and believed. We were
sitting on = sunny shill.sids-how well
! remember tho golden, dreamy beauty
of that lndian.sammer afternoon i.
With ) glorious sweep of the country At
our feet, Glad in tho gorgeous robes,
and dr.ped with the lovely haze. Of
autumn. I had gathered from the
/; ground Two Or three brilliant leaves
the same which lie before me now 50
brown and crisp-and, with the Co.
quetry Unborn in woman, laid them
against the rich masses of my hair.
care they pretty !" I asked, looking
up at Ross with the eyes which I knew
full yell we're like the summer sky At
MONDAY. .....,....
He smiled q little. ..
"Why do you ask.7" he said.
"You know they are .pretty-almost as
...xA,. ~ - $5-E&% Ss&3f& -