The daily Cairo bulletin. (Cairo, Ill.) 1878-1???, 1882-03-05

clumsy Kindness ana unc0um liking IOf
her were the best things she had ever had,
the only gifts of any kind she had received
from any other human being; and in what
does life's sweetness lie save in giving and
receiving giits9 She was indeed of that
better stuff that finds its dearest Joy in
spending and being spent, rather than in
accepting and adding together sums OF
love. But no one had ever made her love
him or even drawn her toward him. She
was unconsciously fastidious and sensitive,
as / have said before, and this protected
her from the superficial likings she might
have otherwise have felt for the rosy-iaced
girls who met her on the roadside with a
pleasant greeting, or the stoutyoung fellows
who once or twice had tried, from sheer
manliness, seeing her carrying heavy
basket to get her to let them "take it up
the hill"
Like good many of her more favored
sisters, her heart was guarded by an out
work-no mean one-of fancy and fastid-
iousness, a slight but impenetratable veil
between her and the coarse rustics about
her. She looked sullen and downcast on
this bright summer morning as she turned
slowly to the work of clearing away the
breakfast things A lodger- that meant
more work and harder, and, worse than
that, il meant a stranger who would think
himself better than her, better than her
father; who would make her feel as she
had felt once, when she had been stroling
on the shore, whittier she loved to 90 when
the days work was done, for she had gen.
uine though unconscious love of nature,
and party Of fine ladies and gentlemen
came ashore from little tu'g-boat, yacht
her father called il, anchored off the cliff
She had watched them, quite near too-so
near that the sound Of their voices and
laughter reached her-and once or twice
she heard their words plainly.
They were so different from the country
people she lived among--looked and moved
and spoke differently. They had not no.
ticed her; she looked like the rest of the
people they had seen that day, poor and
plain, and she had no beauty or grace to
shine through her ugly clothes and lift her
above the need Of style or ornament And
yet she had felt that day, for the first time
in her life, clearly, that she was not really
different from those young girls; that she
could have learned TO speak and move as
they did. AS she listened to their voices
she heard one of them say, looking up al
the little cottage, ~ suppose some one lives
there who has always lived there and always
will. 1t would be like being buried alivt
to me-" And then the gentleman to whom
it was said had answered, "Oh yes, o.
course, to you; but my dear Miss Willough
by, the people who live there are not like
you" That was all she had heard but i
had made her bitter then, and now wher
she remembered it her heart hardened
against this stranger, who was one Of theil
| kind and would feel as that man had done
| Well, she must 90 to work. and SO she die
soon, and there was enough to do to take
her all day. The sun was sinking in the
West and she had not yet carried up tho
pail of water that would put the last touch
to the dodgers room. There was com
mon pitcher and basin in the room, and
she had filled the pitcher, and then some
notion came to her that he would wan
more water than one pitcher full. "Thest
fine folks are so particular" she said L
herself, and ran down with the pail TO TIT
pump again. she soon pumped it full, anC
stopped to lift it; as she did so, her hair
which had loosened during the days work
and was now held up but by single pin
tumbled down over her shoulders in heavy
mass of golden.brown ripple and curl. i
was her only beauty, and she did not even
| know that II was beautiful. She uttered
an impatient exclamation, tried to toss il
back off her face as she held the bucket in
both hands, and then was constrained to sc,
the pail down again while she gathered hei
unruly tresseshurriedlytogeth and bound
them, with sigh Of real WEAKNESS. She
stopped again, il was a heavy lift, and she
had worked hard all day. As she did so {
shadow fell across the path and voice be
side her said, "Letm carry that in for you
| it's heavy and you are tired" She starte(
and grew a deep red when she saw who !
was that had spoken - beyond doubt tn
lodger, a young man of eight and twenty
selfpossessed, handsome, and with sweet
cultivated voice.
Her answer came at once, "It's not heavy
thank you, and I'm used to it," ungracioU
and brusque; then she lifted the pail witt
steady hand, and carried it quickly int
the house and up stairs. All the tatigu
seemed gone; she was strung up at one,
How she hated him, as she had felt sur
she would dol In moment down sh
came, saying,
"You are the lodger, / supposeY"
eyes" he said, smiling, "and my nam
Is Arthur Middleton"
81 will show you your room," she sale
in her usual cold, dry way. He followc
her, and was shown his room. When h
came down, little while after, he ioun
Jake Anderson smoking pipe on the doc
step, the table SET for tea within, and in
few moments more was hidden by Ande
son "to sit down and have his suppe
There was no use waiting for the girl; She
gone to the shore with Bill Foster to Sc
him off on trip"
Middleton obeyed orders, infcrring lror
Anderson's tone that it was good by tet
a-tete with lover, and said as much in
pleasant way to the man, as they sat I,
gether over the table.
lie was answered by grim smile, an
"Well, don't know about love or lover
The girl hasn't heerd much about that Sol
Of thing, nor won't Bill wants to MARI
her, and she'll have him. in course. What
to hinder' call her uncommon lucky.
"Queer people," thought Middleton
"The father thinks II quite natural to eros
the word love out of his daughters voc'
bulary, and the daughter treats n commo
courtesy as if ii were an uncommon impe
Thence. Well, ] didn't come here to stud
human nature, but the ocean," And wit
this soothing reflection he went placidy
bed, and was soon asleep. Would he hay
lali nLnl or ,rnnlnrud uaani Lnl La Lauu