The weekly herald. [volume] (Cleveland, Tenn.) 1876-1888, 1880-07-01
BLUE SPECTACLES,

That Gilbert Norcross should have
had somewhat overweening opinion
of himself, is perhaps not strange. Had
he been brigadier-general in tie late
war, or chosen representative by an ap.
prcciative community, do not know
that he would have felt more lifted up
than Others under the same circum-
stances but to be the only available
young man in New England village is
aposition calculated to turn the strong
est brain.
On the battle field, or in the halls oi
Congress, he would have found many
equals and some suporiors, and the con-
soiOusness of this would have had a
tendency to keep him humble, but in
Puddletown he was absolutely without
competition.
Was there a picnic, sleigh ride, q
Fourth ofJuly celebration, or n Christ
mas festival, he was the acknowledged
leader.
To be sure, there were others who
contributed to these entertainments, or
the nteJtainments could not have been,
but their names were never heard f;
they seemed to be only puppets moved
according rs Gilbert Norcross pulled
the wires.
But it was among the young ladies of
Puddletown that he achieved his
proudesL triumphs. He was like but
terly in garden of flowers, or rather
like wicked bumblebee that stole the
honey and left sting behind.
First, there was Sally Smythe, n
bright, black-eyed girl of seventeen.
Ho escorted her home from circles and
prayer-meetings, he took her out for
moonlight drives, he bought her pepper
mints and chocolate drops, and staid so
long OF an evening after the old folks
were in bed that the extra amount of
Kerosene consumed was q serious item
to Sally's father.
Then, just when everybody, Sally in
cluded, had set him down as Sally's
lover, he suddenly and without warn
ing betook himself and his peppermints
TO iair-haired Cora Dwight. And SO he
went from one to another, always stop
ping just short of the fatal question.
1t is wonder that the morocco arm
chair in which he pursued his legal
studies did not become couch of thorns
in requital of his abominable conduct,
but in truth he seemed to find it very
comfortable indeed, which was no doubt
owing to the hardened state of his
conscience.
One day rs he was reclining in its
soft embrace-his head triae higher
than the window-sill, and his feet a
trifle higher than his head-he was
startled to more natural and becom-
ing position with n suddenness which
threw the sheep-skin volume in front
of him to the floor, from which we in
fer that he was not so deeply engrossed
in the volume aforesaid that he bad not
also an eye for what was going on out.
side.
"Who is sheP" was the exclamation
be uttered
tits observable that although there
were two ladies passing, he said, "Who
is shep" instead of "Who are theyp"
although according to all the rules Of
grammar, two persons are plural snd
not singular. Tho fact is, he saw only
one face, the pretty and smiling one /;
of the other no noted nothing but apair
OF blue spectacles.
"Who is sheP" He spurned the
sheep-skin volume with his foot, for he
was now engaged in more interesting
study than anything its pages con-
tanned. 1t was a case of infatuation at
first sight, to be tried by a higher law"
than any put down in tie books.
He had no difficulty in finding out all
he wished to know, for no stranger
ever remained in Puddletown twenty
four hours incognlto.
The owner Of the pretty face was Miss
Bascom, a student Mt Wellesley college,
who had come to pass her vacation
with her aunt, Mrs. Tufts.
Fortunately he knew Mrs. Tufts, SO
nothing was more natural than that he
should call on her niece, which he lost
no time in doing.