The Forest Republican. [volume] (Tionesta, Pa.) 1869-1952, 1878-01-09

0BI lceJ u1u 0Ulle0 IL Iuii az Tie CIed-
ture. He had just paused and raised
his crest to view his position, when the
stone struck him upon the back Of the
head, and with vengeful hiss he leaped
into the air, then fell at full length upon
the ground and slowly expired.
Bertrode stood looking at the dusty
length and bloody head Of the dead
snake, her mind in a sort of wonder that
anything could be so loathsome, when
she heard her mans spoken. She raised
her eyes and saw Fennel Gould standing
before her. The young man looked at
the snake with sort Of 'shudder, and
said
life" +"
"I suppose / did, = she answered.
''The creature was coming directly to-
ward yer. Did you ever SEQ anything 80
horrible, Fennel2"
He took her hands; she hardly glanced
at him.
Darling" he said.
She snatched her hands away in a sud
den impatience
/" Don't !" she said. ~ wish you
wouldn't, Fennel"
!" But love you"
= / cannot help 1t.
He regarded her sorrowfully. She
took her shawl from the grass and put
il on.
''It is chilly here, and late. | am
| going home, she said.
He walked silently at her side out of
the woods and across the wide fields Of
Growers Tract Never was there a more
hopeless lover than Fennel Gould. At
the farmhouse door he said, "Good-
night, Bertrode." She bowed, and he
vert ON over the hill in the warm gray
twilight, eursing his cruel fate as lovers
have cursed their fates before.
Through n succession Of hot DAYS the
month went ont. Before it had passed,
Bertrode was taken sick-misernbly III
ef fever. She suffered wearisomely, but
little could be done for her. 1t was
slow fever which must burn ont its
.nrse. She was thirsty continually,
aud suddenly in the midst of her suffer
ing, the spring which had supplied her
with cool water grew dig, and all other
water tasted warm and brackish to her
fevered lips.
III only had some ice. mother !" she
| moaned.
|" know, dear, but there is no ice in
less than twenty miles.
Too i'll to express her misery, the
! poor, fevered girl fell asleep, to dream
OF the old yellow Grover Tract stage
straining ats way over the heavy sandy
roads to N0rthboro', the only place
where there was an ice-house-there to
procure for her great green block of
the refreshing ice she coveted.
tae. 1i,I,s
in her sleep. My throat is parched,
and it will cool my drink so deliciously"
A cricketsang in the heated wall and
woke her. She heard the stage trundliug
over the hill.
g Has it come, mother ?" she asked.
What, dear9 you are dreaming.
Wake up, and drink some of this nice
iced lemonade"
Ice, mother Where did you get it ?"
Fennel has been to Northboro' for
it. He's very kind to you, BERTHE, dear. "
ats refreshing. How long have /
been asleep, mother 2"
"All the afternoon, and really think
you look better, BERTHE"
Bertrode turned on her pillow and fell
asleep. again. In the morning she was
better, but not well. The pale lips were
still narched-the mouth 30 long feyered,
tasteless. She relished only the drinks,
iced 'and cool, which her mother pre-
pared. One day she said
How is it that that ice lasts so?"
"Why Fennel goes to Northboro' for
a fresh piece every other day. The
weather is 50 warm that it melts very
fast
But it's haying time. How can he
be spared p
''He goes at night after eight o'clock.
don't see how he can do it when he
worksin the field until he is ready to
drop"
''Then why do you ask him, mother ?n
Goodness, child never asked him;
l guessI didn't It's his own service.
never dreQmed of asking him."
Bertrode, bolstered up in bed, sat
silent awhile.
Fennel's very kind, " she aaid at last
but don't like to tax people so.
Mother, if l am better TOMORROW, can't
l ride out ?"
Perhaps so. F"
Tomorrow Bertrode was feverish
again. Nothing passed her parched lips |
but a yellow peach, a rareripe, that was
a wonder to the neighborhood.
"h here did it come from, mother?"
=" Fennel brought it,"
The next morning when she awoke, !
gust of spicy GOODNESS whitfield into her
face.
"What is thatl" she cried, starting
up.
just pitcher of sprays from the
scrub-Oaks of the lowlands, their tender
pendant acorns swinging among the
glossy leayes-branches of bayberry,
sweet fern, and a handful of checker
berry mixed with sweet swamp hello
trope, and wild asters, all dripping with