The Cheyenne daily leader. [volume] (Cheyenne, Wyo.) 1870-1884, 1883-12-27
LOVE A-CoLD.
Disappointment's Pail Cast Over a
Passion that Might Have Worn
the Stars of Joy.
Chicago Tribune lakeside Musing. y

Chicago Tribune Lakeside Musing.'1
D you speak Greekr'
George W. Simpson looks up at Minerva
Stiggins in the frank. blue jay
manner so characteristic of western people,
and answers her only by a quiet, dreamy
smile that tells with far more eloquence than
could any words that he does not con-
ceiye hor question to have been put In earnest.
And then, as the signing winds of autumn
sweep softly over the veranda on which they
are sitting. bringing with them a faint,
sensuous perfume of New England rum and
Xxx mackerel, he recalls tho fact that he Il
far, far away from the home of his childhood,
and that the one beside whom he is sitting
was born in this town whose quaint old
houses and girls who say piano-limb are cast
into strange relief by the daily presence of
two beings whose lives 1ut out boldly into
history and whose influence on the higher
influence Of the century will be felt long after
they have passed away or been ordered up
Ralph Waldo Emerson and John l. Sulli-
van.
AMI so. starting suddenly from bis reverie.
he looks at Minerva only to notice that the
tears are coursing silently down her cheeks,
and that her bosom, rounded and voluptuous
as a knife-blade, is shaken by a storm of sobs.
He sces also that she is chewing gum with a
A&J PasophN 81 Shob NA1 10 W
story of terrible grief, and his whole heart
goes out In a food of love and sympathy
toward this beautiful being whose eye
glasses are wet with tho saline evidence OF
her overwhelming sorrow. Stepping close
beside Minerva, and putting a hassock be-
tween them SO that the soft, rounded curves
OF her Venus like form may not bruIse him,
be twines one arm tendeIiy about her taper
waist.
Presently he bends his head q little and
whispers softly In her pink-dnted car. az did
not mean to offend you, my darling. !" says he.
81 love my little natural history-girl, /
mean-far too well for that Ny whole being
Is wrapped up In your life, and without 1t my
life would be as aimieas and dreary as a st
Louis joke. Such 4 owe as ourz cannot,
must not bs destroyed II would be a cruel
wrong to throw tho black pail OF ~dissppoint
ment over a passion that might so easily
wear the stars OF joy. You must fly with me,
Minerva-fy to the golden west, and there,
amid the beauties which nature has showered
with lavish hand upon the face of mother
earth, decking each feature with a garland
of her own making, We will while away the
hours together, our love making the day.
pass on golden wings, while every passing
zephyr shall bear with 1t our peans of Joy al
being forever united Do not scorn my prof.
fered love, Minerva, but say that you vii,
make my whole life q great, holy, three-story-
endorsement joyp-and dropping the hassock
that had heretofore Tended her of George
clasps the blushing but largely Gaseous girl to
his vest
And 30 they stand ~there-he too much out
Of breath 10 break the silence, and she too
blissfully happy In the knowledge of his love
to say the words that are yelling up from
her Massachusetts soul. George can feol her
A-.-A L. - Al
bunion on her left foot, and a still, small
voice, like that announcing the vote for
Hayes in case he should run for president
again, tells him that the answer to his plead
inss will be a favorable one Bending again
he imprints a chaste, historical-society kiss
just abaft her larboard ear and wnits for an
Instant until he can recover from the shock.
Am l TO receive no answer, my precious
oner' he murmurs, laying his cheek against
her bang as he speaks. 'Can you not whisper
your answer In my carr
The girl looks up and placing her ruby
red lips In front o. hls Hoosac-tunnel ear
says: 81 would follow you. my prince. to
the end of the world"
A year has passed Sc has a man who sits
to the left Of the dealer In a Chicago pokel
game.
Tina man Is George w. Simpson.
In the richly-furnished parlor of a turreted
clearinghouse that fecks the horizon on La
Sale avenue sits Minerva Stiggins, the bride
Of a twelvemonth. She is peering anxiously
out into the darkness. Presently a form ap.
proaches the house, and she hastens to the
door to admit her husband.
"Hello, Minlf' he says in a CHEEKY voice,
"What are you up SO late forfn
II am waiting for you,' she answers. II
,yish - have a to1lr ,u;tl, SOC, u oul l. -
|. the way to the parlor.
George seats himself in front of the fire and
Minerva, twlning her arms around his neck,
prepares to perch on his knee.
Not there" he cries hoarsely.
why notf' exclaims the girl. Why may
/ not be folded in the embrace Of the one man
whom l lover
Because" he replies, in tones that be
speak his earnestness, ~ do not wish to bs
frost-bitten. "5From His Bony Bride by
Murat Halstead.