Connecticut western news., 1874-06-12
stretches from the shores of Lake Michigan further west.


 Winter had passed, and the wild spring winds had swept across the prai- ries tide after tide of fantastic bloom. In the town the gardens were at their brightest. Along the white-fenced streets the villa-like cottages were e en- powered in towering vines. The air was fragrant with the delicious breaS Sh of roses and honeysuckles, and mo @ than ever fragrant at that hour of tire morning, when the owners were for the most part fast asleep, and the fowea s themselves were heavy with dew.
 At that hour 8 laboring man, whose clanking boots had sounded harshly along the pavement in long approach, paused at the door of a lodging house built apart from the gardened cottages, and asked slipshod girl who was cleaning it's door step, "Does Miss Arnold, the school-ma'am, live here ?"
 "She lives here," answered the maid, "but ye can't see Ter afore' breakfast, at his hathen hour"
 "But I must see her," the man said, planting himself doggedly upon the
 "Au' I'm afther tellin' ye, bizness or no biznes3-- But sure here's the tacher hersilf."
 els it for me ?" asked sweet voice i; and into the doorway from 8 room ad- joining the passage came young crea- ture in white morning robe and golde curls-Elsie Arnold. Have you 8 message for meP" she asked.
 "I cum to see, miss, if ye've heard anything direc' from the squeer."
 "No news," said the wife, sadly. "No. hoped, indeed, you had some word for me. I am expecting tidings every hour. The last were from 'The Pinery, five weeks ago, when the rafts were ready to go down the river. They should have been long before this at St. Louis."
 Wa'al," said the man, "I've cum for my papers. l heerd accidental as heow Squeer Arnold, up in them pine woods, had took the measles worst sort, an lay at the pint of death Ye see, meow, if he should drop of, my bizness might fall threough."
 The nasal drawl in which this sen- tence was uttered broke at the last pro- longed syllable into something like 8 whistle of dismay, for Elsie had fallen senseless to the floor"
 "Ye've killed her intirely," cried the maid. And "What lave you done to Mrs. HarnoldP ?" demanded the land- lady, who in the one instant required to transfer volition iron the key-hole to the latch appeared upon She scene.
 "She dropped like stone, an l don't know what fUr," exclaimed the man and he considerably sdded, as bore it away, "I'l leave them papers, an sen Billy fur en-"
 It was long before Elsie recovered only to lie silently with closed eyes, while people of the house watched in turn by her bed. Two days had passed thus, when late in the afternoon ts e doctors wife e,tered, and something in the tone of her voice aroused Elsie. She looked up with faint smile.
 "Are you strong CT ough," were the words that greeted hei, "to bear good news?"
 eff there can be good news," mur- mured Elsie, who during the long hours of day and night that had seem- ed to her an eternity of suffering, had looked at life as into an open grave.
 The doctors wife was cautious in be- slowing what she had brought. She proceeded to deliver messages from the school girls, and to strew the counter pane of Elsie's bed with the bouquets her little scholars had sent. By-and-by, however, package of letters were pro- duced, and at last missive of more re- cent da;e. Fred Arnold was on his way hone. He had already reached a village only twenty miles distant; he might be in FN tonight.
 "Coming tonight P These were the words that lifted the prostrate Elsie, as if some potent magic had made them a staff of strength. "Coming tonight p she repeated to herself, and refusing all help, she glided to and fro in loving preparation, arranged every thing in order, decorated the room with flowers, and put on the blue dress that was Fred's favorite. All his letters she had read many of them she had read twice.
 "Coming tonight !" she said to her. self for the hundredth time, and hardly could believe it's full truth yet, when she became aware of an unusual com motion in the passage leading past hel room to the front steps. There, after tea, to enjoy the spring twilight that fingers so long ac O. s the prairie plains loiterers were grouped. She heard the co nmotion of an arrival, voices of wei come, his voice The door opened, an6 she was clasped to her husbands breast.
 Minutes of perfect happiness, long a, they may last, are brief. Fred hae , whispered to his wife, "We must neve, be parted again." and Elsie had said in her tremulous delight, "Life has come back" And then sine lifted he1 head from her husbands shoulder tc take one look at his loved face. An6 i then
 There was-never to be recalled !, never to be forgotten-a start of hor TOT. cry of pain.
 Elsie crept back into her husbands } arms, cold as an icicle, shivering like { ? frost-bitten leaf.
 l "Speak to me, dear Fred, that I may know it is you speak to me. Let me hear your Ooice."
 A sealed letter lay upon Elsie's toi let-table the third day after her hus bands return. She found it when drearily languid from the reaction o1 an intense excitement, she had arise1 : too late to be punctual at school, too indifferent to care for the fault. It wal as follows
 "E1s1E,-T shall have left F. fol St. Louis before you awake and reae } these lines. shall walk to R., and taking the cars there, journey rapidly , so that by Monday may be in my plac' = at the law office of -.
 3 "That I had planned differently l need not tell you. And now one wore F in justification for all the pain I hav 7 occasioned. I did not reGlize hoc 8 much Ihad changed. My preoccupie' , thoughts kept me from knowing tha q my eyes were still reddened beyond 2 recognition. and my face so rough ant