The weekly herald. [volume] (Cleveland, Tenn.) 1876-1888, 1877-09-13

but rough and jagged, full Of rocks an,
ragged thickets, with little cabins Sc
down here and there like birds nest
in the grass; hocks Of ragged children
troop out Of these and stare at the pas
sengers-the dear, little, dirty creatures
What an inventory they take of my
Milwaukee bonnet and dusty suit. Her,
is field starred with swamp lilies
scarlet lObelias and wild asters. How
| long to get out and gather them.
see by the towns on my ticket, and
know by the warning whistle, that w,
are within a mile of Fred's home. Tn,
big manufacturing town is already in
sight; the sand and sawdust and Goa
smoke is flying. OF course / have my
head and shoulders out of the window
and with my eyes and mouth fnll OF
cinders, am gaping wildly about me
The train CRATES, Jars and stops. The
usual lumber of women with boxes,
budgets and parasols bundle off the
train. The Teachers Association is held
here this week, and tribe of lank,
sharp-nosed, hungry-faced women got
off also, teacher written all over them
from their ugly hats to their ugly shoes.
Can | believe my eyes' Who is it that
steps up and shakes hands with two of
the lankest, most wizened, old-maidest
of them all but my darling Fred, with a
smile as sweet as the morning; he takes
their satchels and shawls and turns to
the lady who is with him, whom know
by the elegance of her dress and a GER
tain high bred sweetness about her, is
his sister. The oldest old maid says;
$50 kind in you, Mr.. Langley, to meet
us. We should have been quite be-
wildered in this place. So good in you
to take so much trouble"
"No trouble-most happy;" but he
says it rather languidly.
He glances up at the window, and in
spite of cinders and SCOT, my caved in
bonnet, my hair all flying and my cheeks
burning like live coal, he knows me and
drops the satchels.
"Take the shawls a moment, sis" |
hear him say, and in another second he
is on the train, leaning over my seat
with my hand held tightly in his, and
asking me a dozen questions in breath.
81 am going to st. Paul, " is all l have
time to answer, and he replies, "GOod-
bye, Mignon, l will see you again y
and he is off the cars as the bell begins
to ring.
l catch one more glimpse of him as
the train moves off, helping his sister
and the old maids with their satchels
and their ankles like axe helves, into
the carriage; | see him take the front
seat beside the one with the red pop
pies in her bonnet, take the reins, and
the horses are off like birds. How |
envy. that old maid, though she has a
wart on her nose and looks like a last
years mullen stalk.
Something gets into my throat and
chOkes me, and l refuse the orange the
man in the next seat offers me. Some
thing chokes me all the way to st. Paul.
1t may be the green peach l have
eaten; but think it is that old maid.
Why did l let him speak me so fa-
and call me "Mignon," his old
name for me? Why did l not pull my
hand away?
busy myself with such thoughts as
these until we have crossed the boun-
Diary line and have entered Minnesota
here the scene gets wilder and wilder,
the broad Mississippi winds lazily along
at the foot of its tall bluffs, with trees
topping uncomfortably along their
steep sides; close to the car windows
great walls of rock rise, oh, so high up
in the air? The, rain balances dizzily
along like rope walker over high
skeleton bridges and ledges of limestone
rock, where it seems as if the least jar
would send us down, down, dare not
think how far.
| ride along in sort of mist until we
reach st, Paul. What queer, elevated
town 1t is as if every house in it had
up and sat down on the top of
a hill. / get out in pouring rain,
greatly to the detriment of my bones. |
stop at one of the grandest hotels
there, the Metropolitan, and say to my
self spitefully:
81 will enjoy myself once, though
starve the rest of the year."
Rather dreamy magnificence, how
ever, for get tired the first day wan
lering up and down the parlors and |
long halls. | grow restless the second |
lay and want to 60 home. AS to Min
nehaha Falls, what muddy Fall to
come so far to see grow so tired Of
he strange faces and the scenery that
by the third day my brilliant summer
lebut is getting be unbearable, when
| boy brings up a card with Fred. Lang
eys name engraved upon it.
try not to make indecent haste down
nto the parlor, but somehow my feet
will take me two stairs at time.
Fred is there with an open letter and
/ pink envelope in his hand, which
zee by close scrutiny is my poor old let
er, written year ago, telling him
bout my sisters.
The sight of it ayers me beyond eX-
preston. | snatch at it fiercely. Fred
lolds the letter out of my reach, and
catches me in his arms instead, bestOw-
ng upon me some of the old time hs-
les, whose unforgotten sweetness / had
rained myself to believe | should never
eel again.