The Cincinnati daily star. [volume] ([Cincinnati, Ohio]) 1875-1880, 1880-05-27
MY LITTLE SWEETHEART.

| tSCh y Chlo viz i w do bWOntJ-AOu khO
was a schoolmaster's daughter; ], a
schoolmaster's son. We first met one
September evening. Her father was a
struggling pedagogue, with family of
seven children to support, and few pu-
pills. ! had it in my head to become his
partner, and went down first to see how
things were looking. / arrived after a
lengthy journey; and the first thing l
saw whea l was ushered into the room
was little girl seated in an old arm
chair, with big book upon her knee.
Such little girl. in little frocks, hardly
up to my shoulders. She shook hands
with me; as she did so, 1 noticed her
eyes were blue, her hair was. a golden
brown, escaping from its bonds in rip
pling wavelets, and that she had a curl
ously winning smile, smiling not
only with her lips, but with her
eyes and face and all Late on,
l was struck by the way her little
head was poised upon her shoulders. She
was upright as a dart; and when she
moved, it was with an infinite grace, as
some tiny queen. -. !.aUr.s !.
Her name was Emily; to her friends
she was always En-. l am not, and was
not, particularly susceptible; but In
some strange fashion this little fifteen
year-old lady wound herself round my
heart as no one ever did before or since.
She was the greatest puss. She was full
of mischief as an egg is Of meat. She was
lazy; she was untidy; she was perpetu
ally-and deservedly-in hot water; but
with it all, she was as some little maiden
stepped down from fairyland.
She and / struck up friendship. She
always did make friends with all male
creatures, whether FIVE years old or fifty.
| was scribbler even then; and 1 fancy
the pride of authorship, even in 50 small
a degree, had a certain charm for her,
which set me up in her eyes. She wrote
her name in my birthday-book, and be-
meath it I wrote, "My Little Sweet
heart" 1t lies before me at this moment
She was the most audacious talker
would prattle of all things under heaven,
and was never happy if her tongue were
still. She was full of the greatest pro.
jects, meant to do the greatest things
and in moments Of enthusiasm would
pour out her ambitious soul. But she
had no idea beyond its commencement
she knew not what system was, anO
would take up a plan but to fling il
from her, just like the idle puss she was
One thing, and one thing only, would
she persevere in-mischief.
1t was the hardest struggle in the
world for her father and mother to bring
the two ends together. Very little
money was ever hers. Her wardrobe was
Of the scantiest. She knew nothing Of
pleasure, as some people understand it;
she had never been ten miles out of the
town where she was born. Yet there
must have been some fairy present at
her birth, for she was like summers
day, always bright. Not that she could
not be grave. That was one Of her rarest
charms---her gift of sympathy. Only let
some one whom she knew and cared fol
be in sorrow, and EN- would not be faI
away. Dark indeed would be that sor
row which did not change to light when
her sun was shining. Her voice, her eyes
her arms, all joined to drive the shadow.
away, and soOthe the sufferer with the
presence Of her love. b.
Yet was it love? That is a question !
have long been revolving. Did My
Little Sweetheart understand what love
might be? Hardly. There was no depth
in her nature; and that foundation Of
patience On which love must rest, was
scarcely there. Hers was heart which
felt for all the world, but only till il
laughed with her. Absence never made
her heart grow fonder; and if she sor
rowed to part with you to-day, she joveC
with your successor on the morrow. Con
stancy was more than she could fathom
and lie would have been foolish fellow
who would have had her wait till h'
carved his way to fortune. She ooult
not understand that life was real. /
| 4 Il Il
Time sped. I had now known he
more than two years. 1 was going for
rambling expedition to foreign parts
and though knew l was fool for my
pains, to me it was bitter parting. An,
50 for the time, / think it was to her; TO
in some way links had been joined be
tween us without our ever knowing the,
were being forged.
"Well," said / to her, the day before
went, we being alone together, "blu
eyes, how long shall be missed?"
1he only answer was to throw hersel
upon the hearth-rug, place her hand
upon my knees and turn her eyes u
toward my face.
"Ah, Blue Eyes," said I, triAing wit
her sunny hair, you'll have anothe
sweetheart in week." 1...
"ln week?' said she, in that curious
Iy clear voice of hers. edo you thin
so?" She looked up at me and watches
me for moment. Then she turned AM
got upon her knees in frcnt Of me- "Pel
maps so," she said. "But"-leaning fol
ward, so that her breath mingled wit
mine-"he'll Il never be sweetheart lik
YOU"
What could I do? / knew her 80 well
/ knew that this was just what sh
would say to any one by way of comfort
1 knew that her words were as trife'
: light as air. "Make no VOWS" said