The daily Cairo bulletin. (Cairo, Ill.) 1878-1???, 1883-03-23
THE DAILY BULLETIN.
HER LOVERS,

| SAW, MAI lNIN lfuN 49,
hearts secretly proud of her
She was exqulsitely pretty IN any
thing but rustic way, Her complex
ion was singularly free from Sunhnrn'
of peach-like bloom and waNen clear
ness: her hair of very uncommon
shade of brown, q soft Quaker shade,
wavy and abundant; her eyes big, soft
| and gray, heavily dashed, and with an
appealing look in their clear depths,
Her features were rather moulded
than chiselled, and her ripe arching lips
Of n rare rose tint
Mariory had not been highly educat-
ed, but she was fond of reading; and as
the miller dearly loved his motherless
girl, she had plenty of opportunities to
indulge her taste so she was toleraole
we'll informed
She was leader of the choir in the
village church, possessing clear strong
voice and an accurate knowledge OF
music,
Marjory was q favorite with young
| and old. everybody loved her, for her
disposition was sweet and gentle, and
her face was so fair,
She was n quiet home-loving girl, and
| had proved a little mother 10 her young
brothers, sturdy strong-limbed boys
with hearty appetites and loud voices.
Her father looked on her as his right
hand, and sought her advice on all sub
jects.
Mariory was eighteen, and she had
two lovers She was scarcely aware OF
the fact herself, hut her brothers knew
| it very well,
When playfully teasing their sister,
as boys will, they would say;
why does George Cummings pass
here on his way to town, when it's two
miles long this way"
And their sister would blush lovely
rose hue and answer;
| Nonsense, boys, don't be rude.
George Cummings was farmer who
owned fine farm near the mill. He
was young and good looking and very
fond of the miller's pretty daughter, but
too shy to tell his love, except by blush
inc furiously when in her presence and
gazing upon her face with mute admir-
alton in his large brown eyes.
Poor George the girl often said to
herself. Il wonder if he does like me,
or is it only the boys nonsense
The other clover was neat young
man with carefully arranged black hair
and a small trim muStache. He was a
photographer and wore well fitting
clothes and polished shoes; and George
Cummings felt the pangs Of envy gnaw
his heart every time he looked upon his
rivals superiorities.
Georges hands were big and brown,
and his eyebrows were light, and his
honest face very sunbuIned. He
thought ruefully:
Il haven't ghost of chance. I'm
too uncultivated.
The photographer, on the contrary,
was confident of success; he aired his
gay silk handkerchief, and his glossy
pointed-toed boots; and felt that he was
eondcscending to the little country-girl,
and might lido better
Marjory's brothers numbered four,
and were as mischievous as healthy lads
are apt TO be; they kept their sister con-
stantly on the watch, and were very
| .yenturesome.
'See-saw, Marjory Daw" shouted
Bob, the eldest, as he came in one even
ing with glowing cheeks, having just
came from town, where he had been
taking home some flour in the cart.
give good news for your
Marjory was busy getting supper;'he
pretty pink calico dress carefully pro-
tected by huge apron, her sleeves roll
ed up above her dimpled elbows. She
looked up with an indulgent smile at
Bob, and asked;
"What is your newsP"
There's going to be q picnic in
Glen's woods next Thursday, and I'm
going to get father to let us all 60"
Marjory was pleased; dear to the
heart of a country maiden is picnic; il
is usually the pleasantest entertainment
in her simple round of amusements
"a church picnic. BobP" asked the
next brother, anxiously.
Eyes, q church picnic, and Mr.. Mills
sent me to tell old Miss Maylor TO bake
cakes, and you, Marjory, he says, must
maize a heap Of bread, cause your bread
is so good; don't get conceited, Sis.
"Oh, how hope It won't rain the
boys, one and all, exclaimed; lit almost
always rains when there is church pic.
mic. | wouldn't care if it held up till
we got there. "
No said Bob, "for il is such fun tc
see the girls kite about, trying to save
their tinery."
"Oh, Bob, you wicked boy!" said hi:
sister reproachfully."
"Well, it is; | don't care; and those
that have beaux get umbrellas, and the
ones that have noneget left. Sis, you'll i
be having two umbrellas, Ned Archer
the photograph fellows nice silk one
and George Cummings big green one
that came down from his grand
mother
"Ain't you ashamed, Bob'" exclaim
! ed his sister Indignantly, while he
checks grew still more like the heart O
damask rose,
mo, Iain't ashamed, but am hungr
is supper rcadyp"
Yes, 90 and call father"
The miller came in, looking tired, no,
aud dusty. for il was warm afternoo
in the beginning of September.
He was at once attacked on the sui
ject of the picnic, and readily consen
ed to the young folks taking part in III