The Somerset press. [volume] (Somerset, Ohio) 1873-1977, 1878-03-21
OUR STORY TELLER.
DEAR EYELASHES.
BY SHERWOOD BONNER.

hhEkWOOD BONNER..
When Lefty Adams was eighteen
years old, she fell in love, as her mother
and grandmother before her had done.
By the time she was nineteen, she had
married her sweetheart, and he had
whiskcd her as far away from her home
and friends as il he had been a prince
on flying horse.
Lefty had lived all her life in little
inland Massachusetts town; but Adrian
Kimball, her husband, was a young
Southern gentleman, who had home a
thousand miles from New England, on
an island off the Louisiana shore.
1t was early spring when Lefty first
saw her new home. From the SHOWS
and wild winds Of the North, she came
into a magical land of sunshine, and
sweet odors, and singing birds. Around
the little brown house on the Northern
hill where she had played and dreamed
as child and maiden, only the hardest
flowers would grow, though within
doors she had coaxed a few delicate
plants into life.
There was an oleander in a bottle,
that needed as much watching as sick
baby; and in the warm corners few
pale gcraniums nodded at each other
like sleepy grandmothers. But here,
on this flat sand island, where the sun
poured its hot rays all the twelvemOnth
round, the oleanders shot up into great
trees, and everywhere was seen the glory
OF their pink and white blossoms, while
gcraniums clustered in the gardens
thick as flocks of resting red birds.
Orange and lemon trees grew for the
planting, and even bananas waved their
heavy leaves in the breeze. But best of
all was the sea, tossing and sparkling
against the hard white beach, where
every evening the people drove or
walked to watch the suns glorious set
ting, or the gentle rising of the moon.
Now the people who have always lived
on islands in Southern seas, who have
plucked oranges and bananas at will
from their parent stem, and gathered
roses on Christmas day, do not half ap-
preciate these delights. But the little
lady from the North-Letty Adams
Kimball, rs she signed herself-brought
to them such hearty, childlike enthusi-
asm, that Adrian fell in love with her
over again, and decided that his wife
was a thousand times nicer than his
sweetheart had been; which was a very
satisfactory and delightful state of af-
fairs. So they lived along quietly and
joyously-
"In bliss that had nothing to tell"
until, at last, Lefty awoke, as from 9
dream, 10 find out the true meaning and
use of her life.
1t came about in this way: One even
ing she and Adrian, after long walk or
the beacn, sat down to rest on an ole
log that had drifted across the sea-
from Cuba, perhaps. Young men anc
laughing girls were driving by, children
were playing on the beach, and every
thing was gay and bright.
First one thing attracted her atten
tion, then another; the long line O
Pufiy Jelly-fishes strung out along tn
beach like an advanced-guard sent ou
by the sharks that sometimes followe,
them; the boys, bathing far out in tn
surf, tumbling over each other ant
shrieking with laughter; the quee
German women, and the little Mexican
girls who passed by.
Finally, two little figures attracte,
her notice. One was that of a tin
mite of girl, who sat on small pil
of drift-wood, and watched a boy
scarcely larger than herself, who stoo
knee-deep in the water. She was
quaint, old-fashioned figure, in a shor
calico dress, and an old ragged mantle
that might have been her grandmother.
wrapped around her.
She sat so still that the sand-crabs ra
over her bare feet; but as Letty's gag
followed hers to the boy in the watel
she saw that he was active enough
Whenever a wave came rolling in, h
would stoop and make frantic grabs i
the water; but his hands were usual
empty as he brought them out, exceI
for shells or sand, which he threw dow
in apparent disgust.
What in the world is he after, Ady
cred Mrs. Lefty.
Looking for shells, suppose" sal
her husband, who objected on principl
to answering, al don't know" to an
OF his wife's questions.
But don't you see he throws dow
the shellsp'
Perhaps he wants particular kind.
AT this moment the little girl 70.
and called out, Viens, Victor. Hfa,
que nous en- dtlions."
"She is speaking Frenchr" erie
Lefty. "They are Creole children,
guess"
AZ reckon they are," said her hu
band, laughing.
"Now hear me air my French, Ad
Little boy, come over here, won't you
she called, with her best accent. "Wh
are you doing~ she said, as he sto,
before her.
Fishing, madame"
Fishing? With your hands?'
Yes, indeed, madame. They cor
in on the waves. If one is quick enoug
one can seize the little fellows befo
they get back. knew a boy who caug
one as long as my hand" and he he
out his tiny hand with pride.
81 should think it would be 81,
work. What's your name, little man
"Victor Lorelli, madame"
What pretty namel and what
pretty boyp'
In truth, little Victor had a rs
beauty. His was such face as loo
out at you from the canvases of {
painters; a scarlet little mouth, curli
dark hair, cheeks tinged with delic.
bloom, deep, wonderful eyes shaded wi
sweeping fringe Of jet, and over all
expression of cherubic innocence.
II wish you would look at hi
Adrianp cried Lefty. "Did you e,
see such eyes? And oh, his eyelash'