The weekly clarion. [volume] (Jackson, Miss.) 1863-1882, 1879-09-10
"MORNING-GLO
An old-Fashioned Love Story in Prose
BY a COUNTRY PARsoN.

Van Dyck himself ever put on canva.
a more winsome court beauty in all his
life than Morning-Glory The sturdy
Vermont hills We're about her, and the
river and the valley were not fan
away. The day had hardly begun, but
the men were carrying in the brim-
ming pals of milk and COWS were saun-
tering down the lane with that delight
full air of reverie which a COW knows sc
well how to assume. White-Face ano
Starry-Eye and Ruby and dozen
others leisurely whisking their tails al
the early fly, stopping moment to
snatch an inviting bunch of grass,
crunching the appetizing morsel as they
went ON.
The September morning was as fresh
and fair as the young girl walking
down the beaten path of the lane. The
sunlight only made the gold of her hair
more dazzling; not ''frizzed" or chang
ed" but in single coil like Greek
statute, it rested like crown above the
brown eyes; the carriage was free and
graceful, the step elastic; the whole
movement would have indicated perfect
health if you had not seen the face.
Sixteen summers like the present had
drifted past her in her mountain home
No, not like the present, for Morning
Glory had suddenly come into her
birthright-she was woman. A child
last night, enjoying with child's zest
her country life to-day, with a wo-
mans hopes and woman's fears
How subtle the change and how quick
it comesl Woe be to him who rudely
stirs the sleeping waters. She lifted
the bars to their place as in a dream,
the fine contour of her shapely figure
well expressed in the act, and leaned
upon them with bowed head moment,
and then watched the fog lazily climb
ing the valley.
ga penny for your thoughts, Morn
ing-Glory," came from an adjoining lot,
and a young man cleared the wall at a
bound as she started at his voice, and
joined her in. the walk home. A sum-
mer morning idyl, you say, of no interest
to those who have got beyond such nom
sense. But soft, dear sir, saw gray
head furtively wipe away tear the
other day, Chambers Miscellany in his
hand, and only a love story which
touched his heart. The young man was
spending his vacation at her fathers
farm. He had just graduated at col
lege, and would enter the seminary in
the fall. Meanwhile he held his own
with the other hired men in the long
days work. "Hell wilt" they said.
"These college-larned chaps can't stand
much" But they were glad to cry
quarter as he, with quiet smile, struck
out with what he styled the Grecian
curve, in the meadow, the first day of
moving.
eff the gods moved like that they
must have been uncommon tough, said
one of the men as he stared at Ransom
Sayles' bowl away through the tall
grass That settled the men; they re-
spected muscle, and Sayles had not
dipped his oar in the river without
toughening the arm that handled it.
They soon learned to respect the man.
Deacon John Raymond had morning
''prayers" even in the busiest season,
and when, on the second morning after
his arrival, Sayles was invited to lead
the devotiOns, Sam, one of the hired
men, said che prayed like Jehosophat.
Sans Bible knowledge was limited, and
he doubtless got the names little mix
ed, but he told the men when they were
grinding the scythes in the shed, "that
he talked as if he was acquainted with
the Almighty, and it was powerfully
we'll done"
That was three months before. Ran
som Sayles has done his days work.
Sometimes walking in the cleaning with
Carrie Raymond-lHss Carrie, he had
called her at first, with stately courtesy,
but now he had christened her ''Morn-
ing-Glory"-they had talked of books,
authors, art, morals-a thousand things
youth-but never of love. Morning
Glory wanted nothing of it. She was
satisfied with her present and Ransom.
Well, it was the old story He knew
now what the grand passion was that
stirred the old Greeks. This mountain
flower, with the dew on its crimson
petals, that had never felt the searching
sun, twining about the old homestead,
how he had watched it, wishing he might
put out his hand and take it. But
Sayles had iron in his blood. He was
penniless, with an aged mother looking
to him for care. And she was only a
child-this grin years. He had his
future yet to make, and she, womanly
as she was, might not bear the strain of
waiting; and then, too, frank as she
was, in all their talks he never could
penetrate beyond a certain maidenly
reserve. She would never give
herself to any man unasked he
doubted what an answer would be, for
this country girl in her sweet simplicity
e Al Il 1 Z
contained.
And so he went back to his work and
made no sign. If the vision of a gold
en-haired girl, with beseeching brown
eyes, mixed itself up with Greek exc
gesis and Hebrew idoms, he doggedly
applied himself to the work in hand
and fried to forget. But Morning
Glory" had had the chrism laid upon
her lips, which must become In Woman's
lives heavenly mamma or apples of
Sodom. From no fault of Ransom Sayles,
remember, for he had observed the strict
est honor he had not allowed himself
q word, or touch, or look, that might
mean love, and she thanked him In her
heart for it In the years that followed
but she knew now he had her heart I'M
asked, and henceforth it should be the
precious secret of her life. Many
woman has lived and died unwedded,
the perfume of her life the only evil
dence of hidden sacrifice Morning
Glory rounded into womanhood, the
bloom grew brighter culture added to
simplicity, selfpossession to grace her
character shaping itself into womanli-
ness, as she thought what he would
admire and honor; expecting nothing,
hoping nothing, but having one sum-
mer among her choicest memories.
Three years had passed. Gayles had.
graduated declining larger fields, he