The Osceola times., 1880-06-12

the keen, clear light, and the artist fell
TO sketching Oreto's profile.
Time is the great consoler," said the
languid lllinoisan. trying to adapt her
harsh English TO the spoken music Of
the stranger. southern sky makes a
gentle voice, and the Spanish tongue has
a matchless trick of melting all II touches
into melody.
ala sonora Is most kind, but il Is too
late: the heart has no second spring.
Do YOU see the white line down the
mountain side?" he asked, abruptly
changing the subject, evidently painful
to dwell upon.
"Yes, it is brook rising in a spring,
cold as ice, clear a. glass"
Then. instead of my dull, sad story
let me tell you the tradition of the Blue
Fountain, the name of the spring-Foun-
| taine Blue, as French Fathers used 10 call
it."
"By all means; story, a story |" the
ladies cried in chorus.
"you do me proud" said Oreto, with a
sweeping bow, "and since you honor me
with your attention i promise not to
weary it."
We disposed ourselves in various atti-
luutt ti-t IDt IlNlllE
generation gathered in graceful groups
under the stunted pines, and the sitting
generation sat on buffalo robes and
cushions against the gnarled and twisted
trunks of the phones. Lttle Rosa
was coaxed to her mothers lap, and
the stout lady reclined on the back seat
of the ambulance, loosened her bonnet
strings and made herself extremely com
Portable while we listened to the
LEGEND OF THE BLUE MOUNTAIN.
"Once upon time" the Spaniard be.
gan, with his grave smile, away TO the
north in the country you call Motana
lived young Indian hunter. tall aud
straight and very handsome. From boy
hood he had heard stories of happy
hunting-grounds where the pastures were
always fresh and game was always in
sight So one bitter cold morning he
put on his low shoes and fur mlttens,
wrapped himself in his warmest bear
skin, and struck southwark following
the stony mountain ranges till he reach
cd this lonesome region"
Rosa.
ouIN TIC tdNtlllIlS NllluS NtHl WIFI
him. But he did not know what fear is,
though at night he heard the cayote's
cry, the believing of the bison and the
howl of the prairie wolf The sun
which he worshippcd. shone friendly all
the way; gradually the breeze blew soft
er, and the earth grew warmer and
greener. After one long days march he
drank deep of the spring in yon hillside,
laid his bent bow and culver OF arrows
on the rock, and went to sleep in the
soft warm sand by the Blue Fountain.
"An Indian warrior sleeps lightly, and
in his slumber appeared a form-a wo-
mans, such shape as is seen nowhere
but in dreams and Andalusia." The
stranger paused and looked dreamily on
the ground like one busy with memory,
and in sympathy ] thought of the lost
Catalina and the little one lying in the
, gloomy vault at Nalladolid. We re-
spected his silence, and after a moment
he continued:
"The spirit spoke to the dreamer in
words of infinite tenderness, and ap.
peared to watch and guard him. On
waking he took long draught of the
cool snow water, and gazcd searchingly
into its blue depths"
"Was it really blue?' broke in Rosa.
"Sky blue and silver" said the Cas-
lillian, adding one of the endearing dim
inutives in which his language is 50 rich,
and which ] did not quite comprehend.
"Manv times he tried to catch q glimpse
of the fairy face which came into his
Sleep making it better than any waking.
Long he gazed into the watery mirror
it reflected only his own tawny face and
| the spotless sky above it. The white
sand boiled from unknown depths be-
low, bubbles came to the top and broke
on the stony brim, but the ceaseless
gush and fnow of the waters was chime
in his ears without meaning.
"He fingered about this spot, so runs
the tale, many weeks, praying for the
appearance of the water maiden. She
came into his sleep but never blcst his
waking eyes. and when the rainy season
which is so very dreary, set in, the dis
appointed youth went back to his tribe.
The vision haunted him in vain he
tried to shake it oft the rega, so lone,
so dim, so untrodden, was filled with
strange enchantment. The brook went
flowing through his memory, glancing
now in sun, now in shadow, as it gushed
from the mountain side, vanishing at
last like fairy gold in the sand. The
laughing girls of the tribe tried to rouse
him from indifference, but could not stir
him to join in their songs and games.
In the time of the corn harvest the pre-
sent of blood.red ear, the Indians
rose d'dmour. did not move him to any
feeling, and he turned with glance
averted from the flying feet in the be-
witching cdShiRd dance.
"'lle is moonstruck,' said the girls
give him the crooked ear, for the fool Is
fit TOR nothing but TO sit in the sun with
the very old men, He needed neither
Jest nor laugh. and determined to come
back TO the Blue Fountain When he
set out an airy figure seemed ogo before
and beckon him on, as the swan maid
ems of the German lakes beckon young
knights into their little boats drawn by
snowy swans harnessed with silver
chains.
"Southward. southwark he strobe, fol.
lowing the ancient march of Azctlan
and, in sight of the beloved spring, he
climbed the steep, fleet and untrcd as
the red deer, to find the same sparkling
fountain, and the shining brsok below il
running into the valley as ii will run o..
forever.
again he lay down on the soft. warm
sand, and once more the delicate phan.
tom appeared to his closed ewes, whis.
pered gently to his ear, and bent above
his head rs if to kiss him."
Here the lovers changed eyes" lean
ed Il trifle closer together, and saw Ro-
meo pick up blue ribbon dropped from
Juliets sleeve and slip ii INTO his watch