The Lambertville record. [volume] (Lambertville, N.J.) 1872-1968, 1882-05-17
ORIGINAL SKETCH.
WHEN THE TIDE COMES IN
BY Gus Glenn.

Elton Myers leaned Dack IN his easy
chair and thoughtfuly pulled cloud after
cloud of smoke from his fragrant Havana.
Before him on the table lay papers of all
descriptions, while in his hand he held a
tiny scented envelope, and between his
thumb and finger dainty sheet of note
paper. A look, half-puzzled, half-amus-
ed, rested upon his face as he scanned the
delicate writing on the paper.
"What strange little woman she is,
he said aloud, and as strong willed as
an unframed antelope. What is this she
says? Let me see When you receive
this shall be gone. / leave this place as
mail this letter Seek me not, for you
cannot trace my whereabouts. But re-
member this, sometimes when ships are
wrecked not far from home, things come
back to those who sent them, when the
tide comes in.
The mans fine face flushed. ''She
means something in that" he muttered.
Then he continued to read You have
passed through the fire uninjured, per-
haps, and think I have believed all to
which have listened. Thanks be to ex-
perience, my heart is something like
yonder rock towering upon the mountain
side-so many storms have beaten upon
it that it has become so hardened that
naught has power to move it. Still, when
look back upon the hours spent in your
society, / feel tenderness for you, and if
it is ever in my power to do you favor,
will gladly avail myself of the oppor
tunity God bless you and help you to
lead life Of truth
She was gone. Did she not say she
would be as she mailed the letter? And
the future only could tell IL they would
ever meet again.
In pleasant little sitting room in
certain seaside village sits lady. There
is nothing about her one might call beau
tiful, or would stranger turn second
time to view the face. A slight frown is
resting on the low, broad brow as she
slowly rocks the chair in which she is
sitting, and look of pain is in the large
dark eyes. Memory is turning its pages
to her, and as she looks back over the
past, it is full of bitterness. She thinks
of the friends she has loved and trusted,
and Of some, whom she deemed the truest
aud best, who have proven but summer
friends and faded like the spring flowers.
Friendship she looks upon as bitter
mockery. They have all failed her.
Pride was her dearest friend, her only
refuge through the stormy voyage of life.
On this she leaned for support, and 1t had
proven firm. L0ve-she could write of
love stories tender and full of blessedness,
but to her love was thing unreal and
cruel. She gazed down on the small
brown hands now lying idly in her lap,
disngured by the toll Of other days.
Pride, her main dependence, had helped
her struggle upward and now she had
reached the goal Of her ambition. She
could write her name among the many.
Her ship is out on the ocean Of success
and will bring her nothing but good when
the tide comes in.
But she must shake off this feeling of
restlessness. Why will the memory Of
other days come back to her after all these
years. Downing her hat she steps out,
sun umbrella in hand, and strolls down
toward the moaning, sobbing sea. Oh,
how she loves the restless ocean. For
hours she watches the ceaseless waves
beating against the sand, and to-day she
thinks they and herself are almost alike.
The bathers are sporting and enjoying
the salt sea air, and listlessly she drops
down on the white sand and gazes on the
scene. Presently she is joined by a
friend, then another, until quite little
circle is gathered around her, for Millie
| Trovln is favorite. But one by one
they depart aud she is left alone, for she
cannot join in their pleasures to-day.
zone of Miles blue days. they say.
LET her alone, she win be all right to-
morrow" And SO she sits there in the
sand, alone with her thoughts, So
wrapped up in thought to-day. What
can it mean? And the tears, too, are
slowly stealing down her cheeks. Impa-
tiently she dashes them away and rises
to her feet and once more enters her
boarding house, and after an early tea,
retires to rest.
There was storm at sea that night,
and the loud breakers roared and the
waves rolled mountain high. Millie
Trevlin, with some friends, went out
in the solemn midnight to view the
storm.
You seem to enjoy this, Millie," re-
| marked friend.