The daily gazette., 1880-02-11
COMES MS.
By W. u. X.

no content, no nope tne Iear-strewn
record of a heart made old before its
time; the tracing of a path through
the spring and summer time Of life
made sad and dreary by the withered
leaves of Autumn.
OF my youth l need say but little =
1t did not differ in any marked deg es
from that of most boys born in Til.
ranks of people in what we term mod
crate circumstances. My days of
youth passed away quietly enough, and
nothing of moment occurred to me
until / reached the age of twenty.
have heard it said that first love is
nothing when compared to the matur-
ed passion arising from the ashes of
the forgotten sentiment of earlier
years. How true this may be cannot
say, for l never loved but once, and
the birth of that love was the spring
from which flowed all the sorrows Of a
blighted.life.
Beautiful beyond conception was
Mary Gurney, to whom my young
heart bowed down in deepest worship.
Magnificent, queenly, royal, grand, she
was to me, seeming to possess the cold,
hard beauty Of sun-crowned iceberg;
the distant, unapproachable splendor
of a star. Thus she appeared to the
world and to me; and yet she could be
tender when the mood was upon her,
and then how maddening was the fas-
cination she threw upon the hearts ex-
posed to her magnetic influence
How I loved this queenly Mary Cur
ney | worshiped her. Death seemed
to me but small price to pay for the
blessed joy of obeying her slightest
command. Requests she never made
she was too proud for that; she looked
upon the rest of her race as her sub
jects, and never was monarch's scepter
held by a more relentless hand than
that of royal Mary Gurney.
She had a score of suitors, in spite
of her coldness but she treated them
all alike, and scOrnfully refused every
supplicant for her hand !; yet such was
her power over mems hearts, that
they then loved her more madly than
before.
For two long years I worshipped
her at a distance before dared to
speak and then l should not have
done 50, probably but for an accident
which gave me the joy of saving
her life.
Mary was a splendid horsewoman,
and it was her custom to ride every
day that the weather would permit
her to do so. Near the town was the
course of river, usually containing
but slender, shallow stream of water
but heavy rain would fill it's banks
to overflowing with leaping, foam
ing flood of water for time, and then |
it would subside as rapidly as it came
into its former condition.
On the day of which speak, Mary
started for her usual ride in the best
of spirits. 1t had rained all the pre-
yious day and night without cessation,
and, consequently, the rivers bed was
full. The road which Mary took
crossed this stream on an old bridge |
which spanned the river, and rested |
upon stone abutments at each end.
l passed by the bridge just as Mary
came in sight at the farther end of
a level piece of road, which extended |
from the river in her direction for |
about half mile. l saw that the
old bridge swayed fearfully, and was
liable to fall, and be swept away down
the rushing current of the river at any
moment. The solid earth beneath the
had been washed away, and
but slight jar was needed to tumble
the whole foundation into ruin.
| Immediately started to warn Mary
of the danger but, at that instant,
she struck the spirited horse upon
which she was mounted, and came
down the road toward me
like a whirlwind. | shouted and
waved my hat for her to stop, but it
was of no avail, for the horse, mad
dened by the blow, was unmanagea-
BILE, and in another minute he bound
ed upon the bridge the next instant
horse and rider were struggling in the
seething, frothing water.
One moment paused 10 tear off my
coat, and then sprang after them, de-
10 save her whom loved bet
ter than my life, or end my life with
hlr. Five minutes later, after almost
exertions, laid her mani
mate form upon the sward, an eighth of
a mile below the ruined bridge.
/ feared that she was already dead,
she lay so still and white before me,
and, throwing myself upo.i my knees by
her side, called her by the most en-
iearing names, and implored her to
speak TO me.
Oh, the agony of that mement, as /
thought how inexpressibly dreary life
must ever be to me with Mary deadl
Pressing my trembling lips to hers,
cried, "Speak to me, Mary! You must
not, shall not die For love you, Mary
Il love you, l love youp'
AS though my lips had been an cleo
,ric battery, Mary sprang upon her feet,
and in an instant she was once more the
lueen, and her humble slave.
"How dare you kiss me ?" she said.
'Are you mad?"
81 love you, Mary,"I faltered; "and !
"Slence Never dare to speak to me
If love sgainp
Aud, turning, she walked away, with
l Look of scorn that withered aud
&c )rched my soul as the tender bud !
Dlights beneath the lightning's breath.
After walking few steps, she looked !
back at me, and said, "You have saved
my life, aud owe you some return for
that service, so l will tell you piece of
news. Squire Hawkins son George
has asked me to marry IN, and have
We are to be married IN
month"
As though touched by the hand Of
d ,ath, l reeled and fell upon the
glound.
When the next awakening to conscj-