Millheim Journal. [volume] (Millheim, Pa.) 1876-1984, 1882-08-24
DRIFTING WITH THE TIDE.


The river flowed smoothly and peace
fully along. Over mountain, hillside
and tree, the struggling rays OF sum-
mer sunset poured their last tints, and
cheered into song the woodland warblers
fitting from bough to bough. Here,
Nature was rugged, but grand. The
mountains were lofty and majestic, and
raising their broad fronts on either side,
graded the flowing river, and hushed
it into noiseless slumber. The sun
beams went slanting down the hill
sides, imparting their own bright-col-
ored tints to the clinging moss. and
glancing in and out of the gay foliage,
then falling upon the rver. made long
tracks of rosy light, whose bright
coursings were intently watched by one
occupant of q little boat that was drift
ing with the tide. Philip Randolph
dropped the oars, and followed in its
course the circling light. He was Won
dering what the angel of dreams was
whispering to the quiet stream; for If
ever river slept, this one was slumber-
ing now. Over its surface the winds
chanted sweet lullaby, and the strong
mountains folded it in their great arms,
and all was still.
A quaint little boat it was. and a
.AAI- Il, xrhn COT Qf ono
end. with head bowed down on her
hand. A rustic hat shaded her face,
from beneath which the soft, brown
curls fell in graceful negligence. Her
only beauty was pair OF hazel eyes,
both roguish and sparkling, but when
q word of love would call into being the
most beautiful bushes and the merrl-
est d1mples, you would travel far be-
fore finding sweeter or gentler face.
So thought Philip Randolph.
OF what was she SO steadfastly think
ing, on this bright summer evening,
when all maidenhood should be merry
and gay? Perhaps. like the river, she
was dreaming of the one bright sky
the waters Of her heart reflected. But
her dreams were not peaceful; and
raising her head with asigh, she glanced
at her companion. Very grave and
earnest was his look as he asked the
question:
"Nettie, what is your decision?"
Again her head dropped on her hand,
with the answer.
"Hushl let me think.
Weighty ana momentous thoughts
were they that filled that pretty head;
her whole life rose up before her
scenes changing and shifting like the
pictures in a kaleidoscope. Philip
Randolph and she had grown up from
childhood together, under the guardian
ship of Philips father. How well she
remembered the old red school house,
where both had gone day after day to
receive knowledge; the snow covered
hill, up and down which Philip had
drawn her on his sled, and made her
cheeks glow Like roses when he would
stoutly refuse any rival the honor .of
doing likewise. Her first ride on cold
Whitley" she standing on the farm
yard gate and springing into the saddle,
and Philip leading the dear old horse;
then, when she could gallop and leap
bitches, he had brought her home the
prettiest of ponies to be all her very
own; afterward, their separation; she
being sent to boarding school and he
to college. All the homesickness of that
dreary night came back to her now,
and Nettie's tears flowed down her
cheeks at the very remembrance. How
Madame A-frowned when a letter
in Philips bold handwriting was given
her, and the anger of Nettie when
Madame tore it up, as she "didn't allow
young ladies tO receive letters from
gentlemen"
The long three years that seemed to
have no ending, and then the meeting
at the old homestead. bow she blushed
and smiled, as. instead of mere youth,
Philip appeared before her as young
gentleman, and complimented her upon
her improved appearance. Then the
long days of heartsickness when the
fiirt of the country man@uvered III all
sorts of ways to gain Philips heart,
and Nettie was so wounded that she
treated Philip coldly and answered him
rudely, then wept all night about it.
How nobly Philip had saved her life;
saved her from a horrible death, and in
recompense thereof claimed her as hi,
own. Well she remembers the hearts
blood Surging up to her cheek, and the