The herald and mail. [volume] (Columbia, Tenn.) 1873-188?, 1875-11-05

CHOW know it al, )" cried |. ''While
we were saddIing our horses, Betty tolc
us a very stupid story, and in listening
[ forgot 10 fasten the second buckle
of course, with such a leap as that, the
single girth must have broken, and Sc
it was not my fault nor my poor Ais,
it was Betty's fault, or rather he1
story's."
The poor thing grew quite pale and
made all sorts of signs for me to keeT
the story to myself. | think my father
would have sent her away at once, old
though she was, if he had known all
that nonsense. A fortnight later was
my old self again, and whereto do you
think was my first ride?"
"To the ditch, uncle"
Well guessed, boyl' And this time
Ali few over it ncighing aloud, as if he
wanted to say: 1t was not my fault that
you came down the other day: Two
years | rode still the same horse, with
out any niishap, and then we brothers
both entered the military academy, and
could have our dearly loved rides or
excursions only on coming homefor the
summer vacation. And the horses
growing Old, they were 1T last put in
the carriage, and | think they did not
Grumble at that change. When | got
my patent, I had to buy horse, and
my father come to town himself to
assist me in the choice. Among the
many fine horses we saw, there was a
very beautiful gray resembling my old
little Ali. | decided on him, and my
father said laughing:
" And 50 you try once more your luck
with a gray"
BettT's words came to my mind at
these words, but the horse was too fine
to give up, and 50 the bargain was
made, and [ sat once more on the back
of gray, and once more | called him
Ali.
One day, my comrades engaged me
to join them in a long ride into the
country; it was winter. and for once
again a beautiful day, sn0w enough and
no ice, only we had to ride through the
town; rather disaGreeable because Of
the pavement: Laughing and chatting,
we rode off, the horses, all spirited ami
mails, enjoying fresh air; when suddenly
Ali SHE'D at a carriage laundering past
Us: He fell on the slippery pavement,
and | came down with him; this time
| did not lose my senses. | swung my
self into the saddle again, and rode
home, with a broken arm-that was all
but at the entrance Of the barracks
sat an old gipsy!
From that moment it grew to be my
'crotchet' as you call it, that grays
bring mishaps to me; nevertheless |
kept my Ali, and many story was
told about Us two. | am an old man
now, | can say it without vanity, | was
the best hOrseman in our regiment. ]
did not write home about my accident;
| was afraid Of old Betty; | did not
fancy her rejoicing over her warming
being a warning indeed: Whenever |
went out hunting and met a gray; |
rode back-and yet | am also thankful
to these grays, for often they prevented
my going on, when turning back was
the right thing to do-manv "a rem
devious they have spoilt for mel
Years went by; we changed from one
place to another, till at last we settled
near the watering place, F.. In
galIoping for the first time over the
promenade, [ met most elegant turn
out Of grays; an old gentleman sat in
the carriage, a young lady was driving;
/ had never seen a lady drive like that
and felt cnchanted-so much grace and
loveliness, and YET such mirth sparkled
in her eyes at every plunge Of her dash.
ing horses. galloped a little while
near her carriage, and then rode back
10 enquire who they were. 1t was
Count n. and his orphan daughter |
hoped to meet her at the next ball,
and / did. She entered, leaning on
her fathers arm, more charming than
| had thought her at first [ was
and as her father knew
mine, he seemed glad to see me, in
vited me to his house, and ere long |
was a daily guest. You can imagine
my happiness. At last the idea of
living out Of her presence grew unen-
durable, and | thought she, too, was
rlad when we met. One day, after
Iinner, the old count said:
Laura, you could drive out to-day
with Gustav; he must drive well, judg-
ng from bis riding"
| bowed, and Laura went to dress.
| determined, the opportu-
1ity being so favorable, to tell her
lbout my love.
The count followed us and lifted |
Laura into the carriage; | was about to
follow, when my eyes fell on the horses
they were grdys, the same that | had
seen her driving the first day.
care we to drive these horses"
asked [.
care they too spirited for you?"
,aid she smiling archly.
Without answering [ took the reins,
and drove away. [ did not well know
what to say, the horses had put me out
IF humor and my love-making | could |
not begin. Laura, too, was mute, and |
seemed embarrassed. At last | spoke |
IF the first time | saw her, of the M
preston her beauty made then, and |
ner accomplishments later, and how |
we'll | loved her
[ was 50 absorbed by my feelings and |
90 anxious to make them well known |
to her, that | quite forgot the horses. |
Only too soon they forced themselves |
IN my attention in a frightful manner; |
with one wild plunge the fragile car
'iage was thrown against a tree, and |
upset. Thank God the frightened |
horses stood still one moment, long |
enough for me to spring to their nos
riis and hold them fast. Ny next !
are was for Laura, she was unhurt;
next to see what had started the |
lOrses.
An old gipsy was covering, half
hidden by the bushes on the way side.
Was it accidental was it destiny? |
Ion't know.
The carriage was not broken, we
,ould drive home; but my declaration
vas broken off and could no more be
continued. 7 lashod the horses fIriOus-