The Corvallis gazette. [volume] (Corvallis, Or.) 1862-1899, 1881-04-22
A Poem by Winona Silver.


chief was in Europe, and consequently
had twice as much work as usual to
do) toiling through long manuscript
and wishing with all my neart that the
distinguished writer had seen fit to use
the familiar letters of the alphabet in
stead of hieroglyphics of his own, in
distinctly resembling them, when there
came light tap at the door. "Come,"
called, rather sharply, for I was a lit
tie vexed at being interrupted, and the
door opening slowly, disclosed lightly
clad-much too lightly-clad for q
cold January day; I saw that at a
glance-girlish figure standing on the
threshold.
"Are you the editor-Mr. Gray ?"
asked very sweet, timid voice.
81 am" I replied. "Come in,
please"
The girl entered, closed the door, sat
down in the chair beside my desk, to
which I motioned, and said never a
word. I could hear her breath coming
quickly, as though she were terribly
frightened, and I purposely went on
with the unraveling Of the Oriental
characters before me to give her time to
recover herself; for remembered with
painful distinctness my own first call
upon an editor knowing intuitively
this was first CALI when my heart, al
belt it was a manly one, thumped harder
than it ever thumped before or since.
At last raised my eyes from the paper.
My visitor had thrown back her veil,
from which dripped little drops of water
melted snow-and was regarding me
with wistful, beseeching gaze. In re-
turn regarded her with one of aston
ishment, for hers was the sweetest and
most touching face I had ever seen in
my life, and so peculiar in its beauty
that find it hard to describe it. Big,
pathetic light brown eyes, with glints Of
gold in them; long bronze brown
lashes; hair of the palest sunshine, as
though moonlight and sunshine had
mingled together; slightly parted rosy
lips, revealing glimpse of small white
teeth; colorless but prettily-rounded
cheeks; and over all that indescribable
charm of innocence that is to youthful
beauty, to use old and well-worn sim
lies, as the bloom to the peach and the
fragrance to the, rose.
"What can I do for you?" I asked,
speaking gently enough this time.
sI-have-a-story," stammered the
poor little thing, (which thought you
might It's my frst-and if you only
would"
ST will look over it with pleasure,
said, as she paused, apparently unable
from sheer nervousness to go on. Leave
it to me, and promise to give it my
earliest attention. .
And as she handed me the roll of pa
per, saw she wore no gloves, and her
hands were red with cold but saw they
were exceptionally pretty as her face,
with slender, tapering fingers, and pink
sheel-1ike nails"
It is not written on very nice paper, !"
she said, rising, as took the manuscript
from her. tI had nothing but scraps of
old letters and backs of circulars and
bills; but"-with a gleam of modest pride
and glance at the hieroglyphics
write very plainly and it will not take you
long to read it. And when may I call
for an answer"
Tomorrow" said without mo-
ment's hesitation, though I knew I
spare from my other duties for weeks to
tinguished author.
Thank you" and she fitted away as
noiselessly as she had entered.
But for the life of me I could not for
get her. Wherever my gaze fell, there
UonSAu ohoSo SreAt patnoIlc eyes, GnaC
faint golden hair, those prettily curved
trembling lips. .And she was cold.
Coldl / should think actually shiv-
ering in that thin shawl, while I, great
strong fellow" looking at my heavy
overcoat hanging on the opposite wall
Pshawi you may stay there tonight" !"
And actually went home without It, as
though that would make the poor little
girl any warmer, and caught severe
cold In consequence, as I might have
known would. After which ebulIiton
f began the story, and read it through.
It was written plainly, that could not
be denied; in fact. in the way of chirog-
raphy, it was all that could be desired;
and there were some pretty and fairly
original ideas in it, and some CLEANS of q
poetic nature; but the plot was SO highly
romantic and visionary, and the whole
thing SO evidently the work of one who
had not yet even mastered the primer of
authorship, that it was impossible to
give it place in the publication of
which was junior editor.
But never did the necessity of saying
No" SO distress me before, not even
when Alveretta Strawhorn, since known
as the author of "A Riddle Solved by