The Iowa plain dealer. [volume] (New Oregon, Howard County, Iowa) 1867-1895, 1883-03-22
SHATTERED IOOLs.

/ glances, which few women failed to lln-
derstand, which this woman recognized
and nnconsciously welcomed, although
she dropped ever SO little beneath its
light and warmth.
Aren't you going to say that you are
| glad to see me this morning" ?" he asked,
after pause.
II am surprised" she replied.
a fine evasion. You are surprised,
and perhaps disappointed.
Perhaps l am. Don't you wish I
would confess?"
Eyes"
Il am glad yon came, for now have
something more entertaining than
Trollope's stupid novel"
"Did the novel cause the tears I saw
in your beautiful eyes?"
"There are no tears there"
"Tears are easily dried, especially .
woman's. You have been crying"
"Ha, ha! You mistake tie mood. I
was laughing. You know we sometimes
laugh until the tears come"
eyes, but not over Trollope novels.
/ know" he answered, regarding her
curiously; but he did not say he UNDER
stood the chemistry of tears, and could
distinguish one of the first water from o
rain drop. Those few wasted tears
seemed to obliterate for a time selfish
scruples.
Louis Rodman was an idealist, q
worshiper. He admired the virtues
that fancy could picture and potent
thought could mold into form. You
are not interested sufficiently in the
casual acquaintance of such character
to care whether his nose is Roman or
Grecian, whether his complexion is dark
or light, whether his teeth are compli-
ment to nature or the art Of dentistry.
He was a psychologist, and handled
dexterouslv the sharp-edged ax of
thought. He cut cold creeds to pieces,
and when the trenchant ax would not
perform the work. the iconoclast's ham,
mer was used until its echo came back
from the hills.
What cares the intelligent reader for
the mold of such Il man? The mind,
clothed with the beauty Of thought, is
more enchanting than the form of god
crowned with roses.
Louis Rodman had dual nature, he
was an idealis' and an iconoclast. His
nimble fancy created and his cold
thought CONCEALED the image until ii
crumbled like the icicle that drops from
the cornice to the hard pavement shat
tered in thousand pieces. But up to
the present time the image of an ideal
woman. fair, wonderfully fair and mar
vellously beautiful, with eyes as bright
rs the stars, but SO very much nearer
| L. L., y
was his idol.
As the sun was over the hills, and
great shadows of giant shapes cast
themselves at their feet while the birds
shot mp wild strophe to the approach
ing king of day as it gradually pro.
ceeded to the zenith. and the cool morn
ing air, brought, ms it seemed,.a messen.
ger from mountain haunts and bubbling
springs, Rodmaa caught the aroma OF
the morning hour, and. getting very
close to the side of Miss Ferris, he
pointed in poetic admiration to the
ascending mist and fog that left the
mountain peaks uncovered by the matin
mantle.
While she listened he told her the
legend of the Kings daughter who hid
herself in the recesses of a mountain t.
avoid a hated marriage, but wicked
enchanter, meeting her there, changed
her into mountain torrent that leaped
down the mountain side i'll white fury
of despair: that raced and shrieket
among the purple crags and wooded
peaks, and tore itself into ragged shred.
and wreathed itself in rainbows anl
tossed its sprays in the face of the ad
venturer, till the huntsman called it tin,
mad torrent: how for miles away yol
: might hear this sound modulated b,
distance to n dolorous minor tone--al
accent full of sorrows, and when frosti
came and petritied an its tumbline
trouble and bound its wild strength
one could detect its murmuring under
the dry feathers, sobbing to itself in
frozen whisper moaning and complain
ing in passion of sighs, and the mount
ain shepherds would say: "The Mac
Torrent dreams over her woe and strug
giles in her dream" But on the frs
spring night, when the air was full o
earth-lamps and the forgotten fragranc,
of violets, they would awake with ,
chilly horror of impending avalanche
and listen to the mad torrent calling witt
hundred fearful voices for its deliver
, ance from the torment, For the legen,
ran that when the true lover of th
Kings daughter set out with staff an,
scrip to find his sweetheart he came a
last to n foamine cataract that fell in th
image of Il lady yeiled; and, weeping
he stopped to drink of it, and the crne
enchanter stepped behind and pushes
him, and the cataract washed him dow
in spite OF itself, rending the air wit
terrible cries, and throwing out doze
powerless arms; hut he was never see
again. The mad torrent had metho,
in its madness.
Il suppose" said Miss Ferris at thi
point, that lesson is to be learne
from the legend"
EYES," replied Rodman. "Love is q
irresistible impulse, love is the Ell
+. chanter."
| "Yes, but the lover stopped to quenc
. his thirst. 1t was not the longing of til
soul that led him to the cataract. Thu
it is ever with lovers. 1t is self, NJ
:. self-abnegatlon, that leads them to OF
'' side"
70 "Well, it was only to satisfy his thirs
!, he obtained immortality by the pus
ID and the end is just the same, no diffe
ence what the motive"
(, "But one likes to know the motive.
often look upon surgiag crowd ar
know that there is an ebb and flow
- thought / would rather know Il
thoughts than the thinkers, wouldn
- you?"
II should like to, if it were possible
do it without asking impertinent que
sions. II knew your thoughts, for i
stance, would have II beautiful gui,
IL to win a woman's love"
Is She turned to greet the postman, vi
brought her several letters, and witho