Vermont phÅ“nix. [volume] (Brattleboro, Vt.) 1834-1955, 1877-11-30

First Love.
have led n very restless life during the
last few years, and am mostly at home in
railroad-cars, waitng-rooms, hotels, and res
taurants. l read great deal, and have given
up being very choice in my reading. l have
great respect for English and French nov
els, written either by authors unknown to me,
or by those whose style do not like. do
not dare TO open their books even in moments
| of greatest eHHW. But with the exception of
these, | take hold of whatever | can find in
the news-stands and book k-stalls, and look
through every weekly and monthly publca-
| ton meet with in reading rooms, hotels, etc.
! Thus it happens that always have fragments
of different stories in my head and it some
times occurs that | confuse them and Join the
end of one to the beginning of another.
Some of these patchwork stories like as
! much rs the best-known novels of celebrated
authors This is a matter of taste Sometimes
finish IA tale, the beginning of which have
read somewhere, in my own fashion or
! put the first chapters to "A second volume
| which may have come into my hands. Some
| times find it difficult TO remember which is
my own and which is the authors work In
many cases forget in the morning, when
! leave city what have read the night be-
fore. But when like a story, repeat it to
| llbtlls hh L un lluNtlIR ulollH, ana L re-
member it from time TO time as if il were an
event which l had experienced or invented
myself. The following tale is one of this class.
do not remember where | have read il for
! the first time. nor do | know whether the sto-
| ry, as ! am going to relate it to you, is the
same as | read it. But the idea is not my
own. ! think l found it in a French maga-
zine. But that must have been many years
ago; for some Partisan friends of mine, who
read everything in the shape of periodical lit
eraturc, do not remember ever having seen it,
Should the author at any time claim it as his
own, | will with thanks return it : here, how
ever, is the story as it has gradually taken
shape in my head:-
The numerous guests of the Countess de
| b had begun to retire at about eleven o.
clock, and toward midnight only few of the
most intimate friends of the family were as
semblcd in the drawing room. The handsome
Palamede had given his final opinion of the
most noteworthy toilets of the evening; Rene
had talked about the last duel, Edmond of the
last steeple-chase the last society scandal had
| been discussed with the usual kindness and
chartableness; and for the first time during
the evening the conversation began to lag
The countess turned to her neighbor CASTOR.
You are to-day more noisy than usual"
she said; ''for the last half-hour you have
been asleep with open eyes"
The gentleman whom she addressed was
sitting ON low chair, and had been deeply
| interested in n conversation with the fire in
the chimney. He turned slowly round, and
said
Il have been thinking of my first love"
Gratitude honors the receiver and the Civ
er," replied the countess. Tel us the story
of your first love, which makes you so
| thoughtful even TODAY.
CASTOR rubbed his long. thin hands, and be-
gan as follows -
when | speak of my first love / do not
mean the very first, although at the time
suffered delightful pain and anxious joys But
when | think of it now it seems to be some
body else's, and not my own, story. | was
about twelve years old she was the sister of
my friend Jacques. saw her for the first
time in the play ground of our school, where
she came one day with her mother to pay
| visit to her brother. Ii was in the winter, the
| ground was covered with snow, and a furious
battle was raging between two parties that
had been formed among the boys. In the
same moment that | first saw her at the en-
trance Of the play ground hard frozen SNOW
| ball struck me such a violent blow on my fore
head that | lost consciousness, and fell down
When reganed my senses l was lying on
sofa i'll the janitor's lodge, and the two ladies,
| the mother and sister of my friend. were
standing by my side, and anXiously looking
into my face.
The next morning they sent to inquire after
my health, and on the following Sunday
went with jacques to visit them at their house
| | did not dare to speak word. not even to
look at her. but would have been willing to
rush through fire and water to attract once
more the anxious, kind look of the beautiful
| girl. On my way to the school in the evening
l invented wonderful deeds of daring would
perform, and which would astonish her and
excite her admiration. / did not expect nor
ask for more. The unconscious dawning of
love in the youthful heart belongs, with all its
characteristics, to childhood alone. The young
heart is foolishly eager, easily satisfied and
exceedingly selfish and vain. 1t is not yet
capable of loving. but it longs to be loved, to
be admired; it does not aim at making others
happy; the only happiness it knows is de-
| hghtful trouble the only desire, to receive
love without giving it, In later years one
gives without receiving, and that is not very
pleasant either. And thus everything is for
the best in this world-where there are peo-
pie that find pleasure only in giving, and 9TH
ers who are only happy in receiving. But
what bhssful brief period is that when one
gives and receives, when one loves and is low
ed again. have known that time but she,
who made me so unspeakably happy, has now
forsaken me. How beautiful was the world
when | saw it with her, how blue the sky,
how balmy the air Hand in hand We hasten
cd from place to place, and wherever we went
JOY smiled to greet U.S. and Pleasure bade us
TO stay. We went on, singing, laughing, re-
joicing sure of our happiness everywhere.
Sometimes our exuberant joy would astonish
more cautious people. But their severe look
would soften when their eyes had rested upon
us for moment 'Theyare young let them
enjoy themselves, said the old people, and
with a melancholy smile they passed on. She
clung so lovingly to my arm, she pressed her
self so fondly to my side that thought
could never, never lose her The idea of a
possible change never came to me, never
darkened one moments happiness. Weeks,
months years passed by-we were not aware
of it.
One evening, after we had spent the day
more cheerfully and happily than usual, she
appeared to me- all at once, cold and down
hearted. A terrible fear overcame me, an icy
shudder seized hold of me. She will leave
me, said to myself surely, surely, she will
leave me" Then l remembered how little ]
had really cared for her how had tried her
faithfulness and devotion, perhaps too much.
For the first time felt my confidence shaken,
and anXiously l sought her eyes. But her
look gave me no response; her eyes turned
away from me. My rest was gone, my life
was changed. Sometimes she would again
press me to her bosom with wild passion but
the sweetness of her kisses was lost. Often
she pushed me unkindly away, and to my
nameless grief l saw that my love annoyed
her. One evening, when l came home at a
late hour, found the room dark cold, and
deserted; she, my joy, my light, my all, had
left me
Now there began a miserable life for me-
The loss l had suffered gnawed at my heart
but took care to hide it before the world.
tried TO show q happy. ioyful face: | sought