Watertown republican. [volume] (Watertown, Wis.) 1860-1906, 1876-05-10
=" Yes, every one is gone"

Yes, every one is gone"
A shade OF sadness crossed Marian's
face more deep than the tone of the
words she just repeated seemed to
justify. For Aunt Abby had spoken
them lightly, in her brisk, good-natured
way, and without the slightest tinge of
disappointment. Rather late for
Newport, she had said "I suppose
the season is over, and every one gone. y
Then Marian had repeated, with that
tragical little accent and darkening of
the brow: eyes, every one is gone"
Hardly minute passed, however,
before she recovered her sunniness.
Clouds never dwelt long on the sweet
complexioned face Of Marion Sumner.
Yes, dear auntie," she said, it is well
you have come to see us, for you will
hardly see Newport. We can show
you the ocean and the drives and the
cottages; out the spirit of the place,
the summer spirit, is gone. You
should have been here fortnight ago;
you would have found enjoyment"
q ] shall find enjoyment now" said
Aunt Abby, confidently. "And what
magnificent weather %
"The golden days." Marian said. She
proposed walk to one of the beaches.
Aunt Abby excused herself, but cast
toward the children a wistful glance,
which Marian gladly interpreted.
Come, Peachie, and Madge," she
called. "put on your wraps, and we'll
have run to the bathing beach" At
which delightful proposition two de-
mure looking little girls left their pic
due book with a bound.
It is wonder how beautiful a place
can be after those who love it leave it.
Nature never seems to waste moment
in pining or repining. Not all SUNNI Ell
long had the cliffs and the sea and the
seaward lawns been SO winningly, ca
sressingly, brilliantly lovely as now on
this afternoon of the golden days when
every one was gone
The children, with Marian for their
guide, and Marian with a memory for
hers-a ghost-like N emory that " would
not down Wandered across a cedar
shaded lawn emerging near the cliffs.
They passed a cluster of deserted sum-
mer cottages which, with rigidly-board-
6windows, seemed to blind their eyes
wantonly to their brave little gardens,
still radiant with salvias and scarlet
geraniums, and entered a winding path
that, protected from the precipice by a
rude balustrade, threaded the brink of
q rocky bluff, and led into the broad
road fronting the bathing beach. Here
they seated themselves upon a way
side bench, and the children gazed
eagerly at a scene to them entirely
strange.
ssTbe sea is all like a blue prairie"
said one Of these little Westerners.
" But oh. SO calm p cried Madge
"I thought the waves would leap and
tumble and dash themselves on the
sand. [ thought we should hear roar
like thunder"
"You must wait for Storm said
Marian.
"Do you have storms?" asked
Msdge, presently.
~" repeated Marian, in reverie
!" No, not you, Cousin May" laughed
Madge. "But the sea. J. should just
Alike to see it in raging tempest"
g You would love it In its play, too"
said Marian You can hardly judge
OF that now, with the tide SO low, and
the beach covered with black seaweeds,
and not one of the gay people who
come here on warm bright days to take
their sea airings and to battle in the
surf"
What | want" said Peachie, ssis to
pick up shells" She drew a long bag
from her pocket, and begged. leave to
go out upon the sands, where laborers
were piling wide wagons with Sea-
weeds, or yoking together oxen which
were to carry the huge burdens away.
You may CO." said Marian, smiling