The Manitowoc pilot. [volume] (Manitowoc, Wis.) 1859-1932, 1881-06-16
4 BLACKSMITH'S LOVING.

T. ptiAdEs, because OF us utter lack IN veg
citation, and because of its being Sahar.
Of red clay roads and sandy plains, oveI
+ which sickly shrabs and vines strove anG
knotted together L had left il in,Jtalv
with dull, hot sun cracking and seam
.. ing the dry marsh leading to the town
and felt as if spared theconrnission of :
crime by the sudden telegram which re-
{ called me to the city Whipped my
horse into a mad gallop, and looked nei
ther to the right nor left, animated by a
vague wonder as to how any one exists
there.
Again it was July, and by singular
cham Of circumstances I found myself
ambling leisurely on horseback down the
dusty high street of Bloomsbury. The
same red sun was blistering the paint on
the little new post Office, and the same
browny blacksmith wiped the sweat from
his brow before his forge, and stopped
! work to stare at me in vacant way.
[ had passed some idle hours in this
shop before, and after stolid scrutiny
he recognized me.
Back again, square ?" he asked. Civ
| ing me a familiar nod. cit be a matter
Of three years now since I shod your
gray mare in the of hand foot"
He was evidently proud of this piece
Of memory.
Full that" ] said, again wondering
how he had endured all these days and
nights in this God-forsaken spot. He
raised his muscular arm, and with
blackenened finger pointed to the tiny
gables Of a house near by.
Il be married since. I've got a boy
! up there, an he'll be a smithy I reckon,
though his mother is inclined to the
trade Of shoe strings, tapes, and the like.
hate it, I do. Them be all white skin
ned, creamy fellows, with no grit in 'em."
I had never deemed it a possibility
shat there could be marrying or giving
in marriage here. In thisrespect Blooms
bury resenbled heaven in my sacrileg-
lous mind. Perhaps the ''old, old story
Of love had made it PARADISE to the
young blacksmith
l gave my horse a brief resi- and
drink from the good fellows trough, as
I inquired the current news of the town,
though the Lord knows, nothing could
De further from the thoughts than TO
care what news there was. had seen
s--, --.vy, Il uIumenU, faco winch
even family interested me in that hor-
rible place, and Try as hard as I would,
1 could never drive away that vision.
had strouad into that little yellow
church one sultry day to escape the
thunder storm which was rapidly coming
up from the west, and stepped into the
porch just as the first heavy drops pat
tered on the roof, and on the bIeached
grass about the tumbled down head
stones in the yard.
It was indeed lovely face which ap-
peared as pale star in the organ loft,
among commonplace, tawny featured
faces, with black and brown ringlets
streaming around them. She did not
blush or return my gaze coyly, as young
girls are wont to do in country places,
but looked over and beyond me in pitt
| ful, vacant, meaningless way. I don't
know whether she wore pink or blue,
or lavender. 1t was cloudy, flmy sort
of dress, admirably suited to her large
gray eyes and rings of yellow hair Her
bonnet was a sweet little thing, tied mp
with white ribbon. Her chin was like
aIabaster, her cheek was scarcely less
pale.
| fingered in the church porch after
the congregation had trooped out and
the sexton had shuttered up the gloomy
little edifice. had stupidity missed her
in the throng, or she had gone ont at
the choir entrance. I had forgotten the
incident directly, and remembered it
now only as young Jansen, the brawny
Norwegian, spoke of his wife and baby.
There was a rather pretty young lady
here three years ago" 1 said, biting a bit
Of rice straw, and looking over the pol
lard window at the church steeple. "a
pale, white girl in a straw bonnet"
An indescribable flush mounted to his
swarthy cheek and stained his brow. He
dropped the hammer with a sharp clang,
and let his iron cool while he looked at
me threateningly for an instant. The
/ tigerish green faded from his eye and
left dull, red glare.
''She was considered handsome then.
[ know who you mean"
- hope she is as pretty still. That
was a face [ thought a man might see
over his tea urn every day for a lifetime
and not tire. "
DO you think so, verify ?" said Jan
sen, sending up a shower of sparks. sit
be all owing to how the face looks at you.
If it be with dead, cold eyes and icy lips
why, man, death itself at times could
not match it. 1t was a sweet face to
hang in a locket."
| With great simplicity he had expressed
my thought.
''Now, your wife, said in a banter
ing way; II dare say she is smart girl,
given TO teasing you, and coming to meet
you with your son on her back, and then
you three romp away home again.
4 sigh of anguish burst from the hon.
est fellows bosom, and for the first time
5 1t dawned on me that in some way was
olunderingly torturing him. ] began to
'alN OF other things. and strolled away
= with my bride on my arm until reach.
q ed little gritty stone-yard, where a grit
i ty fellow with dusty eye-lashes used to
e sing at his work of making grave stones