The Beaufort tribune and Port Royal commercial. [volume] (Beaufort, S.C.) 1877-1879, 1877-11-29

smarter they are, the greater fools 1t
makes them. The loveliest woman /
ever knew made herself an idiot over an
ugly little high-tempered wretch-and
married him, too. Never be surprised
at anything woman may do when she
lain love-"
Yhe doctor lighted cigar and pufed
away in thoughtful silence. He finished
re cigar, and grandpa went in to bed,
a toNsleep, and to snore but the
pro2enasers did not return. He tossed
1ne pazina stump away, wifhs> >mutter-
eo soaethihg that was not e1aely
oenedheion, and marched off to beel
~ltn Iery resolved fir and much
rougheneotorhsad.
The next tternoon was so tempting
that Lutte fou; d it impossible to sit in
the house and ,ork. It seemed sin to
stay indoors While there was such sun.
shine and such frsh green outside. So
she put on her s'n-bonnet, and with
"Endymion in oneaand and her fish.
ing tackle in the othe set ont for the
pond to spend the ftemoon in a
way after her own hevt. "Farra's
Pond" as it was called, ws the admira.
tion and envy of the whole county. It
was in deep hollow, shadel by beauti.
fnl trees, and was so large tina. Strangers
often mistook it for lake, muo. to old
Mr.. Farra's delight. It had ben dug
by the present owners father whe, the
adjoining city was but humble village.
It was favorite resort of Lute's, paNy
ON account of the fine fish in which it
abounded, and partly because Of its owl
lovely quietness.
She went to the skiff, put her bait in,
and then got in herself, unloosed it, and
padded out beyond the shadows of the
trees into the warm sunshine. She took
in her paddle and laid it across her lap,
baited her hook, and dropped it gently
in the water, elevated her feet on the
seat in front of her, aud began to enjoy
herself greatly.
After a while she began to read, at
first with her attention divided between
her bobbing cork and her book, but the
book soon got the best of it. The ven
turesome fish nibbled away at her bait
without her noticing it; but finally big
fellow got the hook in his unfortunate
mouth, and gave the line such jerk as
to bring her back from the classic shades
of Mount Latmos. It did not bring her
back without O start, though, and that
start sent the paddle in her lap spinning
in the water, and came very near send
ing her book after it, but it fortunately
fell in the bottom of the boat instead.
Lutte was too keen afisherwoman to waste
thought on such .trihing things as
paddles and books at such moment as
| this. Her whole heart was on the end
of her line. After dozen abortive ef-
forts, in which she came near capsizing
her little skiff, she brought the fish out
of the water, painting and wriggling,
and regarded him in triumph.
"What a beauty % she said, disen-
gaging her hook from his mouth. "He's
the biggest one I ever caught here. He
must weigh at least five pounds" Lute's
ideas of weight were defective. "Won't
Ben be Jealous? There, old fellow, lie
there. Now I must get that plagued
paddle"
But that plagued paddle was far be-
yond her reach now, and was floating
TRANQUILITY off to shore. "It's good
thing there's another in the bottom of
the boat, of I should be in bad fix, -
soliloquized Lutte, as she threw out her
line again. "I'm glad my book didn't
fall in the water. I don't think I'll read
any more now; 1 feel in fishing hu-
NOR" and the lately caressed book was
allowed to lie neglected in the bottom OF
the boat-a touching example OF the
| fickleness of human favor.
She fshed on till nearly dark /; even
then the fish were biting 80 well that
she could hardly prevail on herself to
stop. But the air was growing chilly,
and she knew she ought to be in the
house. She resolutely drew in her line
and wrapped it around the pole, lowered
her feet, reached down in the boat for
the remaining paddle
The paddle wasn't there
She felt nervously in every impossible
place for the missing paddle, but it was
nowhere to be found. Well, she was in
fix! Out in the middle of the pond,
with no possible means OF getting to
shore! Night was coming on rapidly,
and she was already shivering with cold.
Nobody at the house knew where she
was they would think she was in town
visiting some one.
But the house wasn't very far of
maybe they could hear her if she called
out very loud. She rose to her feet, land
opened her mouth to give a prodigious
yell but she couldn't speak above q
whisper. The chill night air had brought
her cold to this climax.
Lutte sat down, overwhelmed. There
was nothing she could do o-absolutely
nothing. She would have to stay out
there all night, and she knew-there was
no use mincing matters-lt would be the
death of her. She looked tragically into
the growing darkness, and thought, even
if they came there to look for her, they
couldn't see her from the shore, and she
wouldn't be able to utter sound to LEI
them know she was there. She forgot
there was such thing as moon at night.
But stop she could utter sound
thank Heaven, she could whistle. Hel
face frightened as she thought of this
despised accomplishment of hers. With
rising spirits, she drew her overskir'
over shoulders to keep herself warmer,
and began to whistle Schubert's "Sere.
made" in her finest style. The bird
started in their nests as the strange
sweet notes Aoated toward them, ther
dropped their drowsy little heads and
slept more soundly than ever. Music is
a good thing, but sleep is better-a'
,,;rhh