The Kenosha telegraph. [volume] (Kenosha, Wis.) 1860-1888, 1877-03-01

you can't be surpassed, although as
talker, like most women, you are apt to
get things little confused. But don't
go to sleep, for that is an insult can't
and won't stand. Did you ever see. such
hair ?-spun gold And how charming
" she wears it part in wreath about
her pretty head, and part floating free
over her pretty shoulders. Blondes
There's only one blonde in the world,
and that's Alberta Lee. Her skin is
like snow with the moonlight on it; and
being beautiful because she is so fair, I
suppose it wouldn't be fair in me to even
dream Of her turning Brown Hi, Ned!
Good heavens! the intelligent brute
heard that dreadful attempt at a joke,
and tried to run away. 5000, old fell
low! / won't do it again. And she
never spoke to me, Cora And yet when
we were boy and girl together I've stolen
many kiss from that sweet, red mouth
unreproved, and she used to call me
8 My Harold. Let me see-that must
have been eight years ago. And then,
as she grew older, she grew more shy
but was Harold still, often Dear
Harold, until her father, who shows
what an idiot he is, in spite of his years,
by encouraging that greater idiot, Van
Rensselaer,, made that lucky hit in Wall
street, and the whole family went abroad
to learn how to play the aristocrat to
humble friends at home It's true I
didn't go near her tonight. There were
too many around her. The rose that
all are praising is not the rose for me.
And the dance I should have liked to
have danced with her, the dance
we danced together in the
long ago., she gave to Louis
Vance, the very man [ came near
knocking down one evening at her house
for taking her picture from her album
and putting it in his breast pocket, with
some silly, spooney remark about his
heart. How her mother glared at me as
I snatched it from his hand and she
said, with a cool drawl, Pray, Mr..
Brown, what is it to you? Deuce take
her lovely, exasperating, bewitching i'm
pudence She we'll knew what it was to
me, the golden-haired, hly-white little
hypocrite !! I suppose she'll marry that
Van Rensselaer, and he muttered
something which didn't sound like
blessing between his teeth-'' or some of
his set, not one Of whom is worthy to
hold her fan, the bonnie wee thing as
our old Scotch nurse used to say
breaking off with what in a woman we
would call a hysterical laugh. s. say,
sis, are you asleep? You needn't say
word, my butterfly; just shake your
head"
The worsted things and wells that
formed the butterfy's cocoon moved
slowly and with difficulty from side to
side.
"All right, dear. I feel as though T
must talk of her tonight, and to whom
can [ talk but you, my darling. ?-my
little sister, who has never withheld her
love and sympathy from me, God bless
her ! But, Cora, if any poor fellow had
loved you all his life long, and you had
led him to believe for many years that
you returned his affection, and then,
growing richer, as he, through no fault
Of his own, grew poorer-if you turned
away from him and smiled upon those
who were only his superiors in wealth
and position, I'd disown yon. Mouse of
my life, I would indeed p
But suppose the poor fellow never
told his love when we met after long
separation ?" whispers the "mouse of his
life."
In words, you mean? Pshaw there
are hundred ways in which man tells
his love, and woman knows every one
of them by heart
"But suppose, in another faint whis-
per, that when she returned from
abroad, she found him man so much
less manly than the youth she had left
that he could stoop to believe that be-
cause he had become poor, as the world
goes, she could forget the happy, happy
days they had spent together, and-and
cared for each other? Suppose that he
lent ready ear to silly reports about
her-one, for instance, that she was en-
gagged to be married to that idiot Van
Rensselaer, q"
"Cora p
| No answer.
"Cora, I sayr'
| Perfect silence.
'You tormenting little thing shak-
ing her gently with his strong hand
"why don't you answer me? I won't
give you kiss for a week if you don't.
There is something uncanny about you.
Where's your lisp? You had one short
time ago; you know you did. Cora p
'My names Alberta, please, SIR" and
the veil that had hidden her face flew
aside, and long tress Of golden hair
foated out and frightened the night.
The reins fell from Harold's hands.
Alberta caught them skillfully.
"'Tis well, )" she said, "that in those
by-gone days you taught me how to
drive"
For one moment her lover gazed at
her in open-eyed wonder. Then
he gasped, "Great heavens what
fool p
"Thank you, Mr., Brown" said the
fair one, with smile.
"Not you, Alberta thunder and
Mars no, but me, myself-to be so near