The St. Cloud journal. [volume] (St. Cloud, Minn.) 1866-1876, 1875-06-24

where his brig lay becalmed, the wa
ter already up to his shoulders; and
Laura came near losing sight Of her
dear boy" she added, as that young
Desperate administered an emphatic
hug, crying:
"The Major, Laura; you forgot the
Major"
"Oh, did I forget the Major?" she
said, the color deepening q shade.
'The reapers, you know; only called
me back, but the Major walked right
in after me, with the crutch and all,
and caught me up on, one arm just as
if I were nothing but q fly; but I
kicked some.
+. "Naughty boyp
;. "Rnt, Laura, there was the brig in
danger: I didn't know he was going
back, after it, and he looked SO cross
too. And he wouldn't LIT me get out
of bed tho rest sof the day, that was
the worst ofit.; and when you, came
you. told him you didn't know what
you could do: for him, and he said he
did; but He didn't say what. I sup
pose heiwanted you'to iewfona but
ton ot,nend his gloye-Hary always
does"
"Sapient youth" laughed the Cap
tain, "won't you wade in the stream
again that I may emulate this Ma
jor|
20, but you haven't any crutch," "
said he.
An hour later the carriages were
on the way to the picnic.
"Why didn't Captain Laurence
ride with us, Harryf" asked Rose,
with some vexation.
"Laurence? Oh, he had letters to
write; he didn't come"
Il hope they'll miscarry," quoth
the sweet Rose.
Late in the afternoon, when Laura
went into the drawing-room with her
work, Captain Laurence met her half
way.
"When did you return ?" she quer-
led.
II haven't been away; I had let.
tiers to write, which only the pleasure
of escorting you could induce me- to
postpone"
"Thank' you. And you have had
no luncheon
II beg pardon. twas brought to my
room. Won't you come out on the
veranda and sit? I've improvised
luxurious divan of piled cushions
for you, and the most fragrant Of
south winds Is ready to fan you if you
won't let me-"
"Do you know he continued, af
ter they were agreeably seated, "I've
half a mind to quarrel with this Ma
jor Of Geordie's. What business had
he to know you before I was SO for.
tunate?"
"Oh, he is only friend of my
aunt's; he is always coming here
more or less," she answered, demure.
ly.
$50 much the worse; and in the
mean time you are always walking
with him, more or less, and playing
chess with him"
"How do you know that ?"
"From Geordie. He challenged
me to a contest and I declined
whence he inferred that I wasn't hall
so good as his Laura, which, o1
course, is a weak expression of a
strong fact; for she used to play lots
with the Major whether she wanted
to or not
"Poor Geordie, he tells all he
knows, and good deal which he i'm.
agines." .
:"Then you didn't dislike playing
with the Major?"
"Oh, no indeed, we both played SC
badly that it was very nice"
"You are making me very uncom'
Portable"
"11o indeed; am I? Howf"
"It's too plain that I can never bf
such an old friend as this Major: he
has stolen march on me-"
"Yet-" She had: it in her heart *
iay that old friends were not always
the most valued, but .bethought her
self in season. ..;
"Yes,: i see; you want an excuse
Pray don't mind breaking my heart
'tisn't worth much"
"Nonsense I dare say if you com.
here two or three summers. .aunty vii
like you as well as the Major"
"Consoling-and how about aunty''
| niece ?"
"Oh, the Major is nothing to me
truly; if you mean that"
That was not precisely what he die
mean,.. but it was a pleasant assur
ance.
"Then," said lie, touching he
hand with his lips, II wouldn't be tn
Major for any thing. But as for com
ing here two or three, summers,
might as we'll suffer chronic voyag
round Cape Horn"
"Why, are we 80 tiresome
"By no means; only the experienc
is so dangerous. Do you: hear wha
a pretty ca,szone the wind is singinI
through those honey-suckle vines
I dare say you sang to the Major p
"Sometimes. know nothing bu
| his SONGS"
$50 he made songs for you, eh =?
think I should like t, h Ar one, j
you please it is we'll to understan'
the policy Of the enemy"
1T was simply amusement"
"Well, I am listening."
! Laura's voice was not in the leas
strong nor full, but there was a som,
thing touching in the clear treble p'
euliar to herself; a:something plai1
tive without complaining, fresh az
the dewy morning pervaded it, sad 6
! if the twilight were advancing. One
heard it would return to you agai
and again, long after the singer W.
forgotten.
"Are you quite in earnest7 M
voice is, the merest bird-call," 81
said, and sang:
"Oh, were my love the wind that bio,
Der hill, and field, and lonely sea,
And the sweetness of the rose
To follow where he beckoned me.
, mo storm 10 cold, no night 30 dark,
4 Would daunt me on his restless win
And when the sun awoke the lark
4 We'd higher soar and louder sine."