The Superior times. [volume] (Superior, Wis.) 1870-1912, 1881-06-11
A BLACKSMITH'S LOVING.

[ had resolved, with many persons no
doubt who had shaken off its yellow
dust, never to visit the dismal little
town of Bloomsbury again. 1t was SO
called, perhaps, because of its utter lack
III vegetation, and because of its being a
Sahara ofred clay roads and sandy plains,
over which sickly shrubs and vines strove
and knotted together. [ had left it in
July, with a dull, hot sun cracking and
scanning the dry marsh leading to the
town, and felt as if spared the commits
sion of crime by the sudden telegram
which recalledme to the city. Whipped
my horse into a mad gallop, and looked
neither to the right nor left, animated by
a vague wonder as to how any one ex-
listed there.
Again it was July, and by singular
chain of circumstances [ found myself
ambling lelsurely 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 brawny 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 his
shop before, and after a stolid scrutiny
he recognized me.
"Back again, squire ?" he asked, Civ
of three years now since I shod your gray
mare in the off hind foot"
He. was evidently proud of this piece
of memory.
Gully 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 a
blackened finger pointed to the tiny
gables of house near by.
81 be married since. I've got boy
up there, an he'll be smithy / reckon,
though his mother is inclined to the
trade of shoe strings, tapes and the like.
[ hate it, [ do. Them be all white
skinned, creamy fellows, with no grit in
EN-"
/ had never deemed it possibility
that there could be marrying or giving
in marriage here. In this respect Blooms
bury resembled heaven in my sacreligious
mind. Perhaps the cold, old story" of
love had made it paradise to the young
blacksmith.
| gave my horse a brief rest and
drink from the good fellows trough, as
| inquired the current news of the town,
though, the Lord knows, nothing could
be further from my thoughts than to
care what news there was. / had seen
but once, for moment, face which
even family interested me in that horri-
BILE place, and try as hard as I would, l
could never drive away this vision.
[ had stroIled into the little yellow
church one sultry day to escape the
thunderstorm 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 bleached
grass about the tumbled-down head
stones in the yard.
1t was indeed a lovely face which ap-
peared as pale star in the organ-loft,
among commonplace, manufactured
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 a
pitiful, vacant, meaningless way. I
don't know whether she wore pink, or
blue, or lavender Itwas cloudy, filmy
sort of dress, admirably suited to her
large gray eyes and rings of yellow hair.
Her bonnet was a sweet little thing, tied
up with white ribbon. Her chin was
like alabaster, her cheek was scarcely
less pale.
/ fingered in the church porch after
the congregation had trooped out and
the sexton had shattered up the gloomy
little edifice. l had stupidity missed her
IN the throng, or she had gone out at the
choir entrance. l had forgotten the ia
cldent directly, and remembered it now
only as young Jansen, the brawny Nor
weglan, spoke of his wife and baby.
There was a rather pretty young
lady there three years ago, / said, bit
ing bit of raw straw. and looking over
the pollard window at the church steeple.
"A pale, white girl, in a straw bonnet. ;"