The Bossier banner. [volume] (Bellevue, Bossier Parish, La.) 1859-1952, 1879-11-06


about her. ,r-g-
The summer term brought Adelina
again to the old red dollhouse, but so
changed outwardly that we hardly knew
her for the somber g blackbird - of the
previous winter. She fiuttered in one
morning dressed in white, with sash and
shoulder-knots of cherry ribbons the
loyeliest creature ever saw.
At noon she came to me and said, very
gravely:
"After to-day am not coming any
more"
"WhyP"
81 am going to the city to live; but
you were kind to me the first day I came,
and tell you for that reason, and be-
cause you didn't mind untying my hood
for me-"
l felt her going so keenly that I could
not study, try us | would, and in con-
sequence my grammar lesson was de-
cided failure | went home from school
her way that day, taking care that the
other scholars should not suspect my
motives.
When came in sight of her she was
standing motionless by the roadside,
attentively watching a yellow-jacket
buzzing for sweets in the downy heart
of a white Canada thistle.
Years after, when miles and miles
away from that spot, L could
shut my eyes of Il hazy October after
noon, with y 5 O'Clock sun dipping to-
wards the tree-tops, and see a little girl,
lovely as the blush of the sunset, gazing
pensively at a bee upon Il common road
side flower
'Did it sting you?' l asked, assum-
ing a very sympathetic air.
"No; bees never sting me and I've
watched them dance on the thistle
heads all summer"
q did not know that you loved them
Most girls are afraid of bees.'
" Yes, but | am not"
She turned from the rank patch of
thistles and slowly resumed her walk
homeward.
When we came to the lane where our
paths separated she put up her little
arms to be taken and kissed before leav-
ing me, as she said, "to come back no
more.n
"Be good to yourself, Eddie, and
next winter, if any little lonely Adelinas
come cold and frightened to the old red
school-house yonder, be to them as you
were to me-
Something choked in my throat, and
| could not say a word but | kissed her
more than once; and after she had
slipped from my arms and was twenty
rods away, sat down and cried like a
baby, because [ was never to see AIDE
lima again. \
1t was not long before the rumor was
rife in the neighborhood that Mrs. La
grange had married middle-aged city
and that the young widow
and her child had found new protect
or in place of the one death had taken
from them.
Years fitted by; / was "a; l had
fought through the great rebellion-en-
tered the army private and came out
OF it a captain, shattered in health, and
utterly depleted in pocket, to find N.Y.
self at home again, i'll and altogether
distrustful of fortunes smile.
In my frequent walks to the village
Post-office l often passed by the old red |
school-house, and never witfort sigh |
OF regret for the many happy, csi.e-free |
days spent within its battered walls.
Among the letters handed ME one
morning was one post-marked New
York, which informed me of the agree
able fact that, through the Instrumental
lty OF friend of mine whom he !
was anxious to serve, the I'M
designed, Mr.. Maxwell, had been in
luced to extend to me commercial |
opening at the liberal salary of two
thousand year, to be increased if mer-
ted. There was fortune for me in the
offer, and l accepted it with alacrity.
Mr.. Maxwell, rich New York mer-
chant, from the first took a lively inter-
est in my advancement The unknown
friend l could not account for in any
'ther way than by supposing it to be
some soldier comrade whom I had be-
riended in the past.
: Within a month | was fairly estab-
ished at my new post of duty, and sue
.eeded in pleasing Mr.. Maxwell so well
hat, at the beginning of my second year,
re sent me to Europe in the interest of
he house. When returned, Twas Civ
N a weeks vacation, which | spent
mong the breezy hills of my old coun-
ry home, passing the pleasant Septem-
er days in tramping through the woods
nd fields and by-Ways that were the
hosen haunts of my boyhood. 4
L was just turning the-curve in the
Dad where the Canada thistles grew, i
nd SO lost in my walking reverie that /
Tas almost opposite a lady standing in
heir midst before | was aware of her
resence.
81 am glad you still love the old +,
Genes, Mr.. Durand, she said, without 1
Expressing the least surprise.
| was astonished. Here was lady /
HON, to the best of my knowledge, / ,
ad never seen before, addressing me as ;
as if we had known each 9TH 1
T all our lives. i
4" Names are treacherOus things, and I
were ever so fortunate as to have I
nown yours, | am guilty of having for I
often it, replied 81 !
" Men forget easily, am told; but |
ad hoped to find you an exception to
re rule.n s Iy6f
A very awkward silence on my part 7
Issued. She took pity on my evident .
and continued: L