The Manitowoc tribune. [volume] (Manitowoc, Wis.) 1866-1878, 1875-01-07

er Is the spouse OF strapplng farmer,
who sits with hat on and eats in his shilt-
sleeves. Another welded subdued
German, who plays second clarionet. in
cheap orchestra, has to move monthly
because he cant pay hisrent; Still an
other-but the catalogue grows mel
ancholy. Thus with all the Coras. They
go on pining for princes that never
come; marrying all sorts of people IN
stead; and dying, give way to fresh
race of Coras, who follow in their mann
mas footsteps with disregard of ex-
perience that savors of the sublime.
One of the sweetest of watering
places is Happy Valley. It is romantic
and comfortable at once. There is de-
ightful bathing, rowing, sailing, and
fishing in the lake itself, and the shady
groves that line it's shores are cool and
green and mysterious, and suggestive OF
dryads and nymphs and fairies and
things, That is, if you happen to be OF
a poetic turn of mind. If not, they on
ly suggest firtations.
will not further expatiate upon the
delights Of Happy Valley, lest it should
be fancied that I have lots for sale in the
vicinity, whereas have none anywhere
not even burial lot; and that, I be-
ieve, is the common lot of all. Neither
did Cora Depeyster have any real estate
to dispose Of; but she thought just as
I do, and passed much of the time every
summer In the fair demesnes that lie
smilingly adjacent to the Happy Valley
Pavilion.
Notwithstanding the round of pleas
ures in which she every summer took
prominent part, she could not stife her
inward and continuous warnings for
the music of a princely hand In the
dance, and sweet envy of ssan maidens
who had to go princeless through life.
She sighed great deal, and began to
think the great world cold, hard I'M
romantic sort of arrangement.
Of course you and I know better, new
er wrote romance yet half SO wonder
full as the simplest life would make were
it truly told. It seems easy, but you
try it once!
Though there was no prince among
the Pavilion boarders, there was poet,
Arthur Bayne was there. It is barely
possible that Cora might have fallen in
love with him; there is something very
fine and hyfalutin- the express
sion in a young lady's ideas of a poet.
But then Arthur Bayne was altogether
different from her idea. He knew the
world too well to believe in its hollow
ness. He found it in fact a very round,
hard, and stubborn sort of thing. [
notice that men who have really been
shaken up there bit in the merry go
round we call life, are not apt to pre-
serve the outside show of sentimental
ism to any extent. We all start off,
some rundown collars, our sable suits,
our brigand hats, and our little hidden
SORROWS; but when we cut our eye-teeth,
and learn something about other folks
trouble, we always come back to reason,
to plain neckties, to stovepipe hats, and
the barber.
Arthur was too much matter OF fact for
Cora, and she too sentimental for him
from any hymenial point Of view, and
yet they somehow became very excellent
and very intimate friends. One evening
they sat on the shore of the little lake
together. Cora was gazing at the moon,
of course. She was one of that kind.
She had been telling Arthur what kind
of hero she had imagined for her heart
history, and described the prince with
his melting eyes and musical voice, his
generous nature and magnificent airs,
his mild melancholy and inexharlstible
affection, his irreproachable morals and
aristocratic birth. Arthur listened with
ouS SIdfIts tllGA S1O lldSl 11u1SuOu.
''Why don't you take me?'' he asked.
ST ann not very rich, but then poverty is
romantic. [ can't play the gutter, but I
know fellow who is splendid on the
banjo. AS for fine antique family. my
father was Mr.. Bayne, son of Old Bayne;
/ believe he never went to States Pri-
son."
''Now, Arthur, you are too bad! You
make fun of everything"
swell, to be serious, child, you'll new
er find a prince
''And, why not2'
Because they don't make 'em. Most
men are tolerably humen, and humanity
is not perfection. IF man has no 9th
er small vices, he is sure to chew tobac-
co, write poetry, or keep dog. We