St. Landry democrat., 1878-08-31
AUNT FANNY'S STORY,
BY MAY MAPLE.

The greater part of the first eighteen
years of my life was spent within the
walls::of the village academy, where ! was
taught the rudiments and some of the
accomplishments considered necessary to
practical education. To put on finish
I attended a first-class seminary for year,
or more.
That year, how many stories it might
tell. of lives made miserably unworthy
of their poesessors; of lives begun midst
the loftiest aspirations, and the sternest
resolves, but ending in the deepest,
darkest despair.
While attending school in my native
village I had paid but little attention to
the would-be-beaux, for was determined
give my whole attention to the "get>
ing of my knowledge."
But hadhot been at L-seminary a
week before I encountered pair of the
most bewitching black eyes that nay own
blue orbs ever beheld: For an instant,
I seemed to be perfectly fascinated, riv.
eted to the floor, so fixed was their gaze
upon my own face. Suddenly their
owner seemed to become aware of his
rudeness, and at once turned his. attens
tion to something else.
The following day found us classmates,
and, although the sexes were not allowed
to address each other, before night we
had been formally introduced.
Henry Steele was pronounced to be the
best student in the institute; also the
handsomest and most fascinating gentle
man to be found for miles around. Amia-
BILE and active, with a good moral charac-
ter, he was a general favorite wherever
he went.
The girls were all anxious to win his
regards but he treated each young lady
with the same marked politeness, and
none could tell which lady fair was the
favorite one. Where all pronounced him
the beau-ideal Of perfection, what won
der that I, simple village maid, should
gaze upon him with admiration, and
then with love-beaming eyes. Particu-
iarly when, after six months acquaint-
ance, he confessed his love for me and
vowed eternal fidelity.
If rhetoric and the o1ogies and ometries
received my attention, there was another
study that claimed more Of it, and which
was not named in the principal cata-
logue. For Elk months was supremely
happy.
IF Harry was not constantly at my
| side, was not my desk crammed to over
flowing with gilded and perfumed note
paper, which was covered over and over
| with passionate avewals of devotion to
my fair self? And were not those same
| professions clothed in the most beautiful
language that could be expressed in
voiceless words? Yet with all this hap.
piness filling my soul, never neglected
| my studies. The midnight lamp, yes,
and the early dawn, not unfrequently
found me hard at work at my lessons.
had an object in view worth all my
efforts to win. Once had studied for
the sake OF the knowledge I should need,
to win me favored seat sr';a cultivated
people. Now l desired L-.s commenda-
| tion; to make myself his equal, and to
be worthy of his love, was the height OF
my ambition. To love was part of my
of life. He seemed part of my very
self. Not q thought, not an aspiration
had I but what in some way was con.
nected with him. If doubt ever en-.
tered my mind that he might prove rec
reant to his vows, I drove the thought
away as unworthy of him and of myself.
Judge then, if you can, what my feel.
ings must have been when, on bright
September morning, my roommate
| handed me paper, at the same time
pointing to the list of marriages, and
beheld the name of s'Henry Steele to
Miss Ida Summer" at TIN head of the
column. / did not cry out nor faint, for
| I did not believe in my eyes.
But an hour had not passed before q