The Rock Island Argus. (Rock Island, Ill.) 1877-1885, 1882-03-18
Gathering Sweet Brier After Five Years.

briar. and the pale blossoms shone like
stars in the dark-green bower made by
its hanging foliage. Standing in the
bower, her dark curls brushed by the
trailing branches, and her hands listless-
ly plucking the starry blossoms, was
Amy Ludwick, a pretty country lass.
Her flushing brown eyes were now dim
with unshed tears, and Grant Burchard,
at a distance, studied the rural picture
and smiled. 1t was manlike to smile,
| when he knew from her listless, dreamy
air she was thinking of the absent; and
| he could have testified on oath that alb
sent one was he. 1t was manlike to
smile when he noted the unwonted quiv-
| er of laughing, ruby lips, and the unu-
! sual dewyness of sparkling, dancing
eyes, and was confident, as of his exist
/ ence, that thoughts of him had robbed
| the lips of their steadiness, and the eyes
of their flashing brilliancy; and he was
| right. You would have known it by the
unspoken gladness that shone out of the
/ dark, saucy face, as Grant Burchard
came in sight, softly humming s'Home,
| sweet home.''
Il don't believe word of it," sauci-
| ", as he entered the bower and tied the
| sweet-briar in knots about her head and
| shoulders.
| Don DSftcNo WIdC. you HILLS ALQ0-
| list? he asked, playfully. Don't believe
that you are my prisoner, and that
may be q cruel master, demanding PEN
ance for all the sins you ever commit
| ted?''
| / don't believe you mean that song"
she answered, little sadly. 'sYou sing
| Home, sweet home and act as if you
were delighted to get out in the broad
| world
Amy (and the manly tones spoke
with slight Representatives,, ''you
| know / love my home, and
He paused and showered the white
| blossoms over her head, looking into her
shy, saddened eyes
Il maynot say it, he added. ''Your
| father thinks he is q wise man, and has
sealed my lips Dear as is this simple
country place, / know that life has bet
ter work than can be done here. My
energies are cramped and nv powers
| are sadly limited. The opportunity of
fered me for travel and Improvement is
rare one, and l may not cast it away.
1t is realization of a golden dream,
and when | return will realize anoth-
! er, and confound your fathers fearsr'
He held her pinioned with the eglant-
| inc letters, but she tore them hurriedly
| away, saying:
when you return you may despise g.
| simple girl ike me, and my father wish
| es to spare me future pain in forbidding
all further intimacy until we know our
selves as years of separation viii prove
US. That separation he insists must be
entire. We cannot even write, Grant"
''But we can think, and love, and
watt was the hopeful answer. '.Yon-
der comes cousin Alice. would say.
plague take heri only she looks won
drously like you. Goodbye, Amy"
And the strong man kissed her tren-
bling lips and was gone.
Poor Amy! She was only sixteen, and
not much of a philosopher. So thought
her father, as he watched the sad face
moving about uneasily. He changed
his oninion when she knelt on the stool,
at his side and inquired:
t.Pa, can / go away to SCHOOL,"
eYou go to schoolr' he exclaimed. 81
thought you hated school,
No." she answered. gravely, II new
or hated it, and my teacher said / would
make a good student if l cared less for
fun. / am real ignoramus, pa.'
Ibid Grant tell you so, AmyP'
s<No papa answered the blushing
girl. E.He sometimes corrected my gram
mar, but he thinks / know more than /
do. Even now he talks of subjects l
cannot understand. He is going out to
learn and improve continually, and if l
settle down TO my old fun and Incidence
he win indeed despise me when he re-
turns. / love Grant, and / want to make
myself worthy of him. He viii become
accustomed to the society of polished
women. and [ will seem utterly devoid
of polish. You are wealthy, pa, but I
would prefer education to money
ga nd Ar1vie said the old man fpar-
fully, 'swhen you become a lady perhaps
YOU win despise the awkward, old blund- |
ering farmer. / have heard of such |
thing"
.-Oh, pa, Aunt Hastings is a true Ia
dy, and she honors You as your daugh- |
ter always must said Amy, winding |
her arms around the neck of her doting
father.
ssWell, child, write to your aunt to
find Fou good school in the city. She /
will be a good model for you. Amy, /
child, if it were necessary, ] would make
you q lady that you might win Grant 8 |
love, even if it led you to despise me. /
VIII Grant Burchard ever love you bet
ter than that think yonp"
It was q question that stirred the
depths of Amy Ludwick's loving heart,
and kept her faithful to her flial duty.
Five years later two gentlemen of pol
ished manners and easy address sat talk
ing IN a New York hotel. Some contro-
verted point had held them in earnest
debate for q Ions. time; butat lengtht the
elder of the two arose, saving:
sHGGrant Burchard, / like your devo-
ton to the memory of this country girl.
1t shows how true q friend you can be.
But, Ia this case, believe you are pre-
pairing for yourself a cruel disappoint-
ment.7'
.sGrant Burchard was only half listen
ing. After five years spent in foreign
land, he was still dreaming of the young
girl in the eglantine bower, and replied
as before:
IF find Amy Ludwick as when
left her, I win make her my bride. .
You cannot find her as you left her,
said his friend. earnestly. ..Here is
Rabbi Emery's watch against Grant
Barebari's hat that she is already we'd
ded to some neighboring farmer, and
that vou viii fail to recognize your ideal
Amy in the sdnmpy and illiterate house
wife. II she has not married, you will
probably wish she had; for during these
i've wears you have been adding to your
store of knowledge, and unconsciously
gained e taese for higher pursuit and
colnpanionship. If this girl has not
gained, YOU viii find she has lost her
Youth. her simplicity. and allthaf native
freshness yea so much admire. gu