The Somerset herald. [volume] (Somerset, Pa.) 1870-1936, 1878-10-02

iouuu thSSe ictuSe; aGu II tne5e
failed me, was not The outside world
lett. aud bad not share in that
| felt. and in no egotiatieal sense,
think, that the world was fne, end
the world was niue | had right ot
ownership in bill and dale, in sky and
tree and flower. I think, indeed
know, that l got more out OF the OAK
trees in my neighbOr's handsome
grounds than be did out of his whole
estate. They were mine, and from
the moment the buds began to swell
in the spring, till The last brown leal
had fallen, they were a perpetual Joy;
and those bare branches, deIicately
outlined against the gray sky CT win
ter, pleased my eyes with a pleasure
he would no more have understood
than be would the joy of the seraphs.
| | think | had rich nature. God
was good to give it to me. So in
dark days the sun shone.
And then there was that ship OF
mine which was to come in, with
gold ia the ingots and silk ia the
bales" laden with love and all the
sweet delights the soul cried cut for.
1t was surely coming, and il did
come.
1t was in those days when it was
low tide with me, tie days when |
made acquaintance with want, yea.
when he sat ct my table that met
Robert Tremainc, the son of nv
neighbur whose handsome house
overshadowed ours, and whose beau
tiful grounds enjoyed more than he
did.
1t was on his fathers grounds. un-
der one Of his fathers oaks, that
met him. | bad gone out with q
copy of Shelly, and sat reading, aud
wondering at the 6se that burned so
in this wonderful poets heart -
wondering at the divine madness that
touched bis brain. Suddenly heard
shouting and laughter, and, rising,
received straight in my hand, which,
iuvoluntarily | extended, a large
ball Ia a'minuse more Robert Ire
maine and his little nephew came up.
was intently examining the play
thing.
40, Uncle Rob, here's my ball.
This-lady has it.s The child hesi-
tated for an instant. but, true to his
childish intuiiions, he then said ala
dy."
Uncle Rob lifted bis hat. Really.
your skill is something wonderful, if
you did really catch that, for threw
it without aim or object. Are you
in the habit Of casshing things so ca
silly, Miss Margaret! See, now, /
remember you. And you look as
though you had 70 recollection in
your soul for an o,d friend and play
mate Shake hands, and say you are
glad to see me !" snd he held out bis
hand with friendly frankness that
was wonderfully winning. ! gave
him my hand and said that | was
glad to see him. "Come, Uncle Rob,
let's go aud play more" teased The
boy.
mo, do Ec. swant to do that.
pve found an old friend, acquaintance
for she does not look ike g very
warm friend-and | am going to stay
and talk with her,"
You had better go and play, Mr..
Tremeine"
81 think not | prefer to stay. It's
cool and pleasant under this tree,
aud | want to stay; besides, this is
my ground and my tree, and | can
stay if i please /, at least, am not
the tresspasser."
Robert Tremaine, this is as much
my tree as it is yours :" | burst
out.
30, this is little Margaret, after
all. | began to fear tina. some one
else had taken her place. | see you
hold the same dangerous communist
ic sentiment as ever. Eight years
since | have seen you, Miss Margaret,
yet you see | have not forgotten. If
YOU could manage to give me q smile
with little less ice in it, and could
put en- expression a trine less fFigid
on your face ! should be glad"
"Mr. Trenaine, | am heartily glad
to see you | remember you well,
but presume you hardly expect me
to look or act as the girl of fifteen
booked and acted"
81 wouldn't ike anything better,
be said, smiling.
| flushed, for when be went away
had put my arms around his neck
and kissed him tender goodbye
So we sat down and talked lie
picked up my book "Poor Shelly
Poor. unrcstful Shelly !" he said.
Poor Shelly Grand, glorious
Shelly. rather. Mistaken he may be
sometimes, but be wes always sin
cere"
You are an enthusiast. | admire
him as poet. But let Us talk about
something else Tell me how it has
gone with you these eigh. years"
Il can't really say. I've been
working al starvation wages, trying
10 keep the wolf from the door. The
rest of the time I've read and dream
ed and on days ike these I've sat in
the sun, and, well, yes, do think I've
grown some, though ia q wayward
sort Of fashion"
Il certainly think you have. Now
we have the summer before US, and
summers are short, so short, so short
but sweet Let US enjoy IT, I've
brough; hume euriosities from many
foreign shore, aud | want you TO
read them Wen read them tegeth-
er. and
Robert, my son" 1t was an ex-
ceedinglv well-bred voice, but it woke
me from my little dream 20, here
your ,ie I've been looking for you.
And this lady is"
Miss Margaret De Ruyter, moth
er. Oar neigbbor, you know"
IL do not know my neighbors as /
ought, perhaps, SO | have not the
pleasure Of Miss De Ruyter's az
quaintance But my i'll health is my
excuse ! have not walked so far as
this ia many months Now, if the
young lady viii excuse us, | yill ask
you to go to the house with me.r
1t was smoothly said, and, so far
as the letter was concerned, was true;
| hnf I knnu uhn,. M-r