Weekly Chillicothe crisis. (Chillicothe, Livingston Co., Mo.) 1878-19??, 1883-01-25

what direction l was bound, anu
would watch hours at my window to
catch the least glimpse of her fairy
from fitting down the street. would
90 on n thousand useless errands every
day Just to pass her house and glance
up at her window in hopes of seeing
her.
How pretty she was in her dainty
gowns, which were always in my eyes
the most beautiful garments ever made.
| suppose they We're cotton or woolIen
or something Of that sort, but they
seemed to me the most wonderful silks
and satins, and her slender little hands
with the little turquoise ring, which |
gave her on one of her tiny fingers,
(for we were fast friends now seemed
the very thing from which model the
missing eXtremilics of the Venus de-
Milo, only did not know anything
about the Venus dc Milo then, but that
is the way it seems to me on looking
back at it from the vantage ground of
ten years more of experience.
Her hair was brown, q light golden
brown with fluffy little curls coquetting
with her forehead, behind which her
busy little brain was always connecting
mischievous schemes for which her
loyal little heart was always sorry.
Her eyes were blue, and such a blue,
not muddy, dismal, heavy, stupid
blue, but bright and changeful rs the
sky itself, sharp as the lightning. and
brave and true as the eyes of lion;
(now, | don't think that the eyes OF
a lion are particularly true and brave,
but all the poets tell us that they are,
so of course they must be).
The other boys used to chaif me con-
sidcrably about my sweetheart, and it
bothered me some at first and | tried
to laugh it off and say it was not sOi
but finally grew used to it and rather
liked it, for loved her SO dearly that
Twas willing to have every one know
it; and every one on that street did
know It, | guess, for many were the
smiles and knowing mods that were
lavished on us when VIC walked to-
gethcr, which we did often, for | used
TO wait for her every morning and we
would go to school together. We did
not 90 to the same one, but the two
were only block apart, and | left her
at her school door and had just time to
run around to mine and squeeze in be-
fore the bell struck to close it. All
day | used to study hard in order tC
get the medal for the best scholar al
The end of the week, so | could LET
Ethel wear it until l was obliged to re-
turn it to the school. Many were the
times that a storm, coming up sudden
ly, sent me running hunie in the wei
to get her rubbcrs and waterproof, Sc
that she could get home dry-shod anC
without the least danger of catching
cold.
What happy life l lead all tha
winter; Such pleasant little dances ~
we used to have once week in the
parlors of her house. 1t was large
boarding house and there were lots o
young people in it. What beautiful
little dancer she was, and how jealou!
became if she danced with nasty
George or that sneak Willie, and how
she used to laugh in my face and tel
me she would dance with ne "load
and loads of times" if was good,
Then | remember that grand part,
that we both attended on Christina
Eve, and how rode in the carriag,
with her and her mother, only he
neither did not count, and how
helped her out as if she were duchess
although | am not sure that duchessc
are helped out in any different wa,
from common people. And how
thought | was the prince and she wa
Cinderella, only with the kindest moth
er in the world, as walked into tn
house with Ethel clinging to my arm
, little frightened, perhaps, for it wa
her first party, and was so proud be
cause she was the prettiest girl in tn
room and would dance with no on
, but me at first. And of course W
played pillows-and-keys, and of cours
, / went down on my knees and kisse
her, while she pouted and blushet
, but was not very much displeaseC
, And didn't think myselfa full grown
up gentleman as / carefully put he
, shawl around her shoulders and tucke
, her into the carriage, where her tire
4 head went to sleep on her mother
! shoulder, and did not wake up until
l reached home.
What funny little notes | used
D write her in which | called her my deg
0 sweetheart, with a small d, and signe
4 myself respectfully yours; and VIII;
0 dear little notes she would send m,
with the crooked letters laughing
D each others faces, asking what it a
0 meant. And did we not preserve III
i profoundest secresy about those letter
l although everybody knew all abol
D them, for / always carried mine wit
I me tied up with piece of blue ribbo
4 she had given me, and l would allo
my most intimate chums to look opei
s mouthed and enviously at the whit
a envelopes and the ribbon, but countle.
Y tops and marbles would not persuat
5 me into letting their curiosity pcnctrat
] any further.
So l lived in a perfect fairyland
:. delight, loving Ethel with all my bo
4 ish heart, and loyal to her and thinkin
5 of her in all my work and play.
Q But one bright day in the car
spring, when we were coming hon
I. from school she was silent all the wa
y and l, boy-like, was teasing her ar
1 scolding her, for being cross, but fina
ly she looked up into my face ard to
: me in. a troubled voice that she WI
Q going to Europe with her parents to
S gone five years, and would sail in tv
1 weeks. Isaid nothing for momen
r but struggled bravely with my tear
S and only a little kuskiness was in II
y voice as tried to laugh and joke Il
r rest of the way home; but 1t was n
4 very gay. I left her at her door al
ran home and shut myself in my roo
Il to cry where no one could see me.
a Those next two weeks passed like
4