Connecticut western news., 1881-02-23

outside, you were laughing and talking with a handsome young lady. I heard you, and saw her. She had the loveliest ostrich feather in her hat.
 "And what has become of the story, Winona ?" asked I. She had rebelled against Miss Silver," or even "Miss |. Winona," at an early period of our acquaintance, on account of my being so much older than she. I was eight and-twenty, and she ten years younger.
 "My story "--with musical laugh (which you altered until it was almost your story? sent it to the Weekly Romance Portfolio, and they accepted it and we'll they might, for, thanks to you, it was very good indeed. And they sent me check for it-a very short check for such long story-and there it 1s," pointing to cloth jacket that hung beside my overcoat. "And now that you've mentioned the story," she continued, all her old shyness coming back again, "I should like to show you-but I am afraid"
 "Nonsense, Winona, you are not afraid. What is it ?"
 "A poem of mine, if it deserves that title;' and she pushed paper across the desk to me-
 I unfolded it, and a really pretty little poem, which, however, in spite of its prettiness, found as unsuitable for our paper as the story had been. After reading 1t, I sat apparently buried in thought, conscious that Winona was stealing glance at me every now and then from under her long lashes, but in reality puzzling m y brain, as I had a hundred times before, as to what was to become of the poor, pretty, frank, innocent girl, left alone to battle with the world.
 "By love p exclaimed aloud, "it's too bad"
 "Is it so very bad ?" she asked, in faltering tones.
 ''I wasn't referring to your verses, Winona. They are very good indeed, my should say Winona."
 "And you will accept them ?"
 parried the question with another. In flash, my heart had been revealed to me.
 Winona, will you write valentine for me? I never could do anything in the way of rhymes myself"
 "I shall be glad to do so," her voice L. l>a handsome ostrich feather ?--I mean to the handsome young lady with the ostrich feather ?'
 Perhaps. Take sheet of paper and set down in prose what you are to turn into poetry. Tell her that the first time saw her my heart owned her for its queen that since that bright and happy dey che -haa-sao~~r boon atse..t from my thoughts that love her with sincerest love, end long to hear her say that she loves me"
 The little maiden grew paler and paler as she wrote, and when she had finished, saw the hands go half way to the saddened face, but fall again in obedience to will-command.
 "I will write it tonight, and bring it early tomorrow, she said, "for to- morrow is St. Valentines Day."
 And although I reached the office earlier than usual next morning, Winona was there before me, looking, poor child, as though she had passed a waarv s1een1ass nirbt
 "I have brought the verses" she said, "and hope you will like them.
 "I am sure shall, Ireplied. "Reai them to me, Winona.
 When first by me-Heavn bless the hour T.
 That face of beauty rare was seen, | That voice was heard, my slumbring heart
 Straightway awoke and owned its queen. And never can it sleep again,
 But filled with Loves supreme delight,
 The lovely image entertain
 In thoughts by day, in dreams by night.
 But with thy image can not
 Forever, dear, contented be,
 And so pray St. Valentine
 To give thy charming self to me. "And I hope you will be very happy, } said Winona, choking rising sob. "But perhaps she won't have me, said I.
 "Won' have you ?" repeated Winona } as though such thing were impossible
 "She might not. But shall 500
 know my fate. Here is an envelope
 Please direct it.
 Winona waited with uplifted pen. F Miss-Winona- Silver" "Miss Winona Silver! p "Miss Winona Silver. You hay t written valentine to yourself. l "And you mean it?'' l II mean every word of it. If yo : doubt me, add P. s. in plainest prose : Will you be my wife 9" l "I'm the happiest girl in the who t wide world," said Winona, "and I v never write another story the longe - day live D
 l. took her little hands in mine. "Yc O never shall, my darling," said, whe Y the office door flew open, and in stalke !! the chief. "Mr. Penton-Miss Silve d my intended wife," I hastened to sa q with much discontinue, it must be CO q fessed. "And now, Winona," I adde
 "run away home, and never come he Q again. must not be disturbed duril e working hours.'' B "I am glad to see that you have q strict sense of the fitness of things " said MT. Penton, with 8 grim sml -o which led me to believe that MT. Warre IS our scientific editor, whose desk W to at the extreme end of the long FOOT ,d had not been as deeply absorbed in |