The Iola register. [volume] (Iola, Allen County, Kansas) 1875-1902, 1879-08-22
NEG.
A Story of Cornwall and Michigan.

A Story Of Cornwall and Michigan.
Margaret Neale, a girl of 20 or there
abouts, sat on low, broad stone at the
edge of the cliff that overhung the sea.
Her features were irregular, but she had
a certain dark, gypsy-1ike beauty of her
own. Her brown stuff gown chung
closely about her; her hat had fallen
back, and hung carelessly by the strings;
AIRED wooden shawl was wrapped around
her shoulders, one end trailing over the
scant, gray heritage. Her hands were
clasped about her knees; there was
hard, set look about the unsmiling
mouth; and the eyes, that were some
times most tender, had q dangerous
light in them as they gazed steadfastly
off over the darkening sea to distant
horizon, still red with the reflected glow
of the sunset.
At a little distance, but with his back
toward her, and his steel-blue eyes just
as steadily bent in the opposite direc-
ton, stood Matthew Erickson, q hand
some young fellow enough, in the rough
dress of miner, tall, strong and rudy,
with a full, curling, chestnut beard,
and hair of the same rich color. A blue
ribbon dangled from his left hand.
There had evidently been quarrel,
and a love quarrel in struggling min
ing hamlet on the northwest coast of
England does not differ greatly from
one in scattered fishing hamlet on the
eastern cost of Maine. Forms of speech
may differ, but love and anger are much
the same the wide world over. As for
the queer, quaint dialect in which this
especial pair of lovers poured forth their
mutual grievances, no attempt will be
made to reproduce it here. You may
be sure they said, in Cornish fashion,
"yo" for "you," and "towd" for
"told," and eta" for "thou," and
"canna" for " can not" But all that
shall be taken for granted, if not for
your ease and comfort, at least for
mine.
Tired of the silence at length, the
young miner sauntered away with an
air of assumed indifference, and picking
up handful of pebbles, slowly tossed
them, one by one, into the waves below.
Margaret's eyes did not waver, but none
the less did she follow every motion of
his hand. Having watched the fall of
his last pebble, he came back and stood
behind her, winding the ribbon round
his finger to its evident detriment
$50 you will not wear it, MegP" he
said at last.
"No, will moi" she answered, with
out turning her heard. "Why do You
vex mea There's no more to be said
about it."
sbut why, MegP" and he laid his
hand on her shoulder as with an attempt
at reconciliation "Tell me why.
Surely you can do no less"
Because-becauseI can't abide blue,
Matt Erickson. It's hateful to me-"
"But like it, Meg! and if you cared
for me you would be glad to wear blue
ribbon to the fair when ask it."
"Why did you buy it?' she asked
shortly, turning towards him by hairs
breadth. "Not to please me, that's
surei"
"Yes; to please you and to please
myself. Cousin Jenny wears ribbons as
blue as her own eyes, and am sure you
can not say they are not pretty. You
are just stubborn, Meg"
She sat for q moment as If turned to |
stone. Then she blazed out:
"Jenny!' Jenny!' / am tired of
sJenny!' She has turned your head
with her flirting ways like a butterfly,
and her yellow hair and her fnery.
Give your blue ribbon to her, and take
her to the fair-for I'll not wear it,