The Iola register. [volume] (Iola, Allen County, Kansas) 1875-1902, 1883-10-05

Il
billions, and build castles in the air far sur.
passing the gray walls that faced US, have
vanished like our dreams. l used, too, to
go with him on his fishing excursions, but
now he goes alone. Since he has been out
in the world and been petted and welcomed
everywhere l suppose his ideas have
widened and only bore him.
amber" he says, as he throws himself
upon the grass near me and plays with the
reel of his rod, 81 have a surprise for you.
Whom do you suppose l have seen in the
town? Some one who is coming here"
81 don't know, l am sure; some one nice,
l hope," say, with a smile, going on with
my work, though l am really thinking to
myself, "What a graceful figure he has"
"Oh, of course he's nice. It's your cous.
in James,"
1 try to look as il I thought him very
nice, for is he not my cousin? And l think
l succeed, for Ainslie, who is watching my
face, kicks the turf savagely, and points
to a man in a riding dress and spurs, who
is coming down the street. 1t is James.
81 expect he is coming to say my grand
father wants me-"
Ainslie grumbles out something very like
"Why doesn't Sir Martin do his own mes.
sagesW which is unreasonable, as my
grandfather is nearly ninety; but l dis.
creetly pretend not to hear, and we both
have to get up and greet the newcomer.
James is not looking well, l notice, as soon
as he enters the gate. His face is paler than
is usual with him, and he looks careworn
and haggard, much as if my steady cousin
had been keeping late hours, and keeping
them unproftably. But he readily accepts
the invitation to stay to dinner, which
Ainslie gives him as Observation-Disclosures
as he isSas il his company at that meal
were the one thing he desired. And James
usual courtesy and suavity, which some
times make me feel SO clumsy and hoyden.
man below the middle height, pale and light.
haired, with fair dropping mustache which
hides his mouth. and small white hands al.
WAYS ON the move: a good-humored man
withal. a man of endless conyersation-not
only endless. but of rare power to charm,
one who will amuse You in spite of YOUR.
self: and so YOU have NV cousin, James
Stuart McMichael, as he sits upon the little
lawn at Ludford. 1 ask him how my grand
father is .<and for a moment, as he quickly
turns from me and caresses his mustache. I
fear that he has come with bad news, But
it is not SO. He assures me that Sir Martin
is tolerably well, and does not expect me
before the end of the week. And then we
talk about Indifferent things until nv
mother comes out to us and greets James
warmly. He is somewhat of a favorite
with her.
Although the day is fine, the river Is full
for the time of year, running past the
garden with a strong stream towards the
weir a hundred wards below. a group of
cbiIdren ON the other side whose Iaurbte err
floats pleasantly over, are sending in a
retriever after sticks. Near them wall
bounds the stream. but thew are standing
where an opening, made for watering
horses. breaks the line of the little embank,
ment. Lazily / watch the dog ENJOYING
the sport as much as any one, until the
biggest of the children throws one farther
from the bank than before. Neptune
springs in merriIy. and swims quickly to-
ward the morsel. which. ON our side of the
river. is invisible. Has il sunk? No, the
current has caught it. and the dog, follow.
ing il boldly. is carried down full forty
wards before he seizes IL. He turns and
brea SITS the stream, but tired by his previous
exertions, soon makes for the bank. The
sheer wall, rising six feet from the water,
gives him no chance of landing. Again and
again he tries, and tries, and, each time
failing, falls heavily back under water.
Then the poor fellow loses his presence of
mind, and instead of steadily swimming
back to the opening in the wall he paddles
to and fro, irving to Chamber up, and
wasting all his strength in these useless
efforts. Even at this distance l can fancy
his big patient ewes looking up piteously,
and lump up, but without an idea what
to do. "Oh, Alnslie, he will be drowned"
eyes, Amber, l think that dog has had
V" N.
Oh, if he could know how hate him,
Audibly, Pm afraid, l mutter "Brutev'
and turn to Ainslie, who is leaning with
one hand ON the grass and the other shad-
ing his ewes. which are fixed upon the
struggle.
PPM afraid there is nothing else for it,n
saws he Quickly, and l hear the gate clash to
behind him, and l see his tall, straight
figure speeding over the bridge. And we
can only stand there and look on. cannot
see how the dog is faring. I have only
eyes for Ainslie coming to the rescue. He
reaches the spot, filings off his coat and
shoes and plunges in A moments strug-
gle, and With one hand on the dogs collar,
he is swimming slowly towards the OPEN
ing in the wall. Very slowly it seems to
two of us; but his touch gives new courage
to the dog, the steady strokes conquer, and
both are helped out by the dozen hands
ready to receive them and to attend to the
poor dog. have no thought of him now:
l can only watch the drenched figure that
crowd, and comes running back, looking a
little ashamed of his en- husiasm, as l have
noticed men will look when they have done
ANYTHING to be proud Of
/ do not wait for him, but have fed into
the house. And l am so proud, o, so
proud of him, that l cry a little bit, and
have to wash nv face before l go
down stairs; and If l came down a
woman and wiser, with a knowledge of
myself and of others gained from those
tears which l had not possessed
before, that knowledge is very far from
making me sadder. But it does in some
way make me more shy; think myself
clumsy and awkward and ill at ease, and it
is not NV Cousins superabundance of
blandness which makes me so now. Yet,
through my own reserve and consciousness
/ gain glorious glimpse that makes me
sing as later go to bed into the feelings
that may lie behind those signs in another.
1t was unlucky that the episode of the
dog which have set down atlength should
have occurred on that particular day. This
is an after-thought, for at the time had
M ;la, Of copcoo linz INV foalinpS fnx.vord