The Northern Pacific farmer. [volume] (Wadena, Minn.) 1878-1885, 1881-06-16

"A Thr1tllnS Tale OF New OrleNnSs
From the New Orleans Times.
CHAPTER /.
Tho soft breezes whispered through the
willows and reeds which grid the lakeshore
at Spanish Fort. The setting sun sank
slowly to rest beneath tho horizon, and the
silvery bosom of the Pontchartrain g)im-
mered bright in its crimson rays. Upon a
bench. facing the murmuring waters, sat
two lovers. One was a maiden fair to see,
the belle of Tchoupitoul,s street, and her
name was Alice Vaughn McRafferty. She
was tender maid of about twenty, and
upon her mobile countenence freckles the
size of peanuts roasted in issolated groups,
Her luxuriana hair, bright as an auction
flag, streamed loosely down her back like a
tangled mass Of seaweed. Alice was a
daisy in the meadow.
Henry" she said, speaking with difficult
ty, as the set of false teeth which she had
borrowed from Mrs. Mike O'Smythe who
lives in the Tenth ward, was two sizes
smaller than the one she was having re-
paired, Henry, my own darling she said,
"will you always love me rs now?" Henry
De Gray, her lover, who was a blue eyed
butcher from Vaudeville, replied in tender
accents;
Il will, fair Alice, 1 will" The stars
peeped out and smiled. The lonely snipe
sang sadly in the dismal swamp, and the
two lovers were happy.
1t was grand ball given in the elegant
mansion of Captain Mulcahy, who runs q
charcoal schooner in the basin. In the
conservatory, half hidden among the foil
age of the rare exotics, sat Alice Vaughn
McRafferty, pale and careworn, with the
trace of tears upon her cheeks.
Suddenly she was reused from her rev.
cry by the voice of her bosom friend, Julia
Martin, inquiring: why are you not in the
parlor dancing the racquet"
Where, Julia, she Kissed, clutching the
wrist Of her friend, where is that slab
sided galoot, Henry DeGray?"
1Hark! Alice" replied Julia, do you
hear the lovely strains of the heel and toe. ,
He is there dancing the happy hours away"
What sort of lay out is he prancing
with, Julia?'
Il know not the name of the damsel,
Alice"
Julia, :" inquired Alice in husky tones,
lis she tacky- looking thing with ma
room colored nose shaped like cucum-
ber?"
Eyes,"
rs she hip shot and hump shouldered?"
"She is.
ooh! the horrid wretch, It's she, Ellen
Gillhooly, my rival. will be revenged.
swear by the bright moon above me that
I'll be revenged on Henry De Gray. Ere
the flowers of summer fade and the au-
tumnal winds rustic the sele and yellow
leaves, I'll marry the sucker who drives the
ice cream cart. He got mashed on me last
week.
CHAPTER III.
Alice Vaughn McRafferty arose, rubbed
her cheeks With rouged rag and entered
the supper room where the merry dancers
had assembled to devastate the meats and
pastry.
Her eyes cleaned with a strange light,
and spasm of pain shot athwart her coun-
tenance when she saw Henry De Gray lean
ing over the chair Of Ellen Gillhooly, his
head so close to Ellen's that his brindle
moustache swept her cheek. Alice got as
mad as a scalded tom cat but she concealed
her emotions and the next moment her rip
ping laugh rang through the supper room
md echoed far out into the gloomy recesses
Of the wood shed.
Alice was the gayest of the gay. Alice
was the belle of the ball, the candle around
which the giddy moths of fashion futtered
in an ecstasy of delight, only to be signed
in the flames In the vast throng which
applauded her sparkling repartee no one
that yawning at her feet was
deep chasm of misery.
No one knew that the banker worm griof
was knawing at her heart strings. No one
knew that under the folds of her polonaise
was concealed second handed hustle
which she had bought at auction. Again,
we say, no one knew, and such was the ro-
nance of Alice Vaughn McRatferty.