Litchfield enquirer., 1875-07-29
From the Atlantic Monthly-I A ROADSIDE ROMANCE.

A ROADSIDE ROMANCE.
 From the village of Flint Hill, place.
 in high recess between three round top
 ped eminences, you can see along the roa.
 to HollOwdale at least half a mile. Thi
 IS somewhat remarkable, because in gen
 eral 1t Is a winding and elusive route, fol
 lowing closely the deviations of a mucl
 indented highland ridge. And even here
 after running oh demurely for the hal
 mile. overshadowed at intervals by tn.
 trees that cluster around an occasiona
 house, 1t suddenly climbs a transverse Til
 of rock that strikes across its course, and
 from the high, decided sunniness of tn,
 summit. slips at once out of sight Only
 from the little natural basin beyond
 towers the sturdy top of a huge elm, giv
 ing silent assurance that the road ha: passed on safely in that direction. 1t va! on this bOunteOus elm-top that farmer Fayrewether had concentrated his atten tion as he stood. one day in summer, al the door of his house on the windy north ern hill, ,-the hill which had so long stood godfather to the neighboring cross-road cluster. Presently, two small figures oi boys i'll bunchy garments appeared in the white noon-glare on the road, hither side of the elm, making their way slowly to wards the farmhouse.
 ''Guess it's about time to hitch up the wagon for Miss Weston. Timothy" said Mr. Fayrewether, in a loud, admonitorJ voice, but without looking around.
 Upon this sturdy young man, wearing indescribably dirty trousers tucked into his boots, came out of the house and pas- sed on toward the wide-mouthed barn. His face, ,sun burned to an even but rathe, infamed scarlet, was set around with loose lying whiskers of soft fibre and yellow hue.
 ''It's the one o'clock she wants to go by, ant 1t 2'' he asked, on the way.
 ''Yes."
 This brief exchange of ideas seemed to have excited in Timothy's mind an anus ing train of meditation, for he paused a moment, with his hand against one half of the barn door, which had not been en- tireiy opened, and smiled in an absent manner; indGlglng only one side of his mouth in this dreamy pleasure. however, and quickly closing his lips again. Then he stepped within, and was presently heard calling out. Come, get out here, Chester ]" his voice being accompanied by the irregular stamping of a horse back ing out of his stall
 In the meantime. the two boys in .bunchy who also wore little caps with home made visors of an extravagant pat tern, were trudgisg slowly homeward to the Fayrewether house. Behind them, in the hollow beyond the ridge, they had left the school house, with no obligation to return thither until the next September. But if the respite of vacation was welcome o them, 1t was even more so to Miss Wes- On, the teacher, who, at that very mo- Dent when little Peter and Harry mount .d the ridge in the road, stood within the 'mall, unlovely porch of the building in which she had held sway for many months past.
 She was comedy young woman. Her figure was strong and graceful !; but she vas clothed in plain dress of some only 'emi-silken gray stuff, interwoven with inc black lines. At the neck soft white I'll lssGsd eas5E & fEom sIEa A she 1 slEcling hns boldly recurved chin, full. quiet lips, and wholesome though not rosy cheeks, seem d to crown fifty this modest sweetness of ler attire.
 For some time she stood motionless in he porch, looking at the great elm which grew on the other side of the road. Its nassy foliage rose in the grasp of great, ortuous limbs, that seemed to have rear ed themselves up three or four times for l final flight, and yet each time to have wrought out a lOftier twist, quite surpas- sing the limit of their first intent, But, It last, a general gladness and satisfied repose had settled upon its rounding :; and family of golden robins, having established themselves there, fash ed every now and then through the ex- luisite greenery, or made their loud notes echo from the heart of the labyrinthine bower. Beneath, on the road, the dust ay in thick powder, creased and fiatten ed by the tracks of many wheels but just 1t this point rivulet ran out from a gap n the northern road wall, and gurgled under the highway through rough arch way of stone, On the southern side 1t was surprised into considerable expanse. and through the shallow pool a rude track ed from the road, remOunting again i'm mediately. Marnie (we may call her by her given name) crossed over and came down to the pool. There was an old trough there. but 1t had fallen away at one end. Through this opening the stream had poured itself, and with such a sweet excess that the trough was more than brimmed by its cool current. and lay, like some curious. forgotten fragment, imprisoned under the crystal surface. idle but fantastic weeds that grew beside 1t, being submerged by the water, had received a coating of light hued mud that gave them soft, leathern so that they, too, acquired an unusual air of rarity and remoteness.
 "Oh what delightful Idea Y said Mar nie, aloud, and pressing her hands togeth- CT, as she looked into the clear, dark, dimpling water that filled the trough. She had always loved the little reservoir, and 1t had just now entered her head that drink at this homelY fountain. and draw from it. And if he could have let that fresh current flow into his songs, what poet he would have beeni
 At this moment leiSurely rattling of wheels that turned on old and roOmy axles reached her ears. from the other side of the ridge. Marnie stopped quickly and picked several stems of forget-me-nots from cluster which had sprung up amid the grass, close to the dripping stones of the tunnel under the road, As she rose again she beheld Timothy Fayrewether approaching by the short, swift descent of the road, and seated in an ancient. un- venerable open buggy. In another instant he had dashed down the side track and, driving through the water, came to a stand beside her. She mounted into the buggy with him. but as she did so she saw how turbid the water had become behind it. Alas for her imaginary poet The thick mud was crowding into the cool, clear flood that filled the trough, and all the glassy expanse in which she had mirrored her fancies the moment before was broken into bewildering wrinkles Timothy saw nothing of the ruin he had effected, and was intent only on setting
 his horse forNard once more. Mamie
 sat by him in silence.
 ''I see you've got some forget-me-nots,
 he said, at last
 ''Yes,' she replied, looking up. Thers
 was always a sedate and lucid frankness
 in her eyes which the young man couli
 not wholly comprehend, a simplicity vhicl
 seemed to refuse any ordinary admiration
 from others, such as Timothy might nat IZ