The Kimball graphic. (Kimball, Brule County, Dakota [S.D.]) 1883-1905, 1884-11-07

you thAt choose not by the wow
Chance ~ fair and choose - true.
Merchant Of Venice.
"Comel"
And, in answer to the above invita-
ton, the door was quickly opened, ad-
hitting to Portals boudoir her friend
and conidante, Mignonnette Glare.
"Ah ch%erie," exclaimed the vivacious
little Partisan. "But what is the child
doing2" and she paused, gazing in sur
prise at tho fair Portis, who, in charm
ing morning toilette, was seated before
On etageres of exquisite workmanship,
whereon reposed, in a row, halt a dozen
photographs which the beautiful young
American contemplated with q half
amused, half satirical expression as she
was interrupted by the entrance of her
friend Mignonnette, who again queried:
What is the child doing?"
"Only selecting a husband, petite,
but don't let the matter cause you any
anxiety, for I dare say 1 shall be able to
form a conclusion, which, if not exact
ly pleasing to myself, will satisfy that
august parsonage, my aunt, who has
discoursed to me of an eligible parti,
marriage settlement, ETC., until The
world seems to contain little else. And
this morning, driven to desperation by
the oft-repeated request that I would
seriously consider my prospects and
come to a decision, I am now making q
frantic effort to do so. But" she added
with earnest impulsiveness dropping the
scornful utterance of her former re-
marks, II fancy the attempt will prove
q failure, for 1 cannot, will not, sell my
sell Cor a marriage title. My heart must
precede my hand"
ooh, qui vous etes singuliere!" and
Mignonnette, with unbounded astonish-
ment in her eloquent black eyes, re-
garded Portia half pityingly. Then she
said gayly: "But, machere, tell me the
result of your meditations. Surely in
that collection you might find lie beau
chevalier."
"Listen then," said Portia, with lit
tie gesture Of impatience, "and you shall
know the suit OF my reverie to the time
Of your welcome entrance: First in the
line is M you we'll know. Monsieur LIE
Comte, and I think I may not better
dispose of him than to quote the words
of my illustrious namesake: God made
him, and therefore lot him pass for a
man. The second aspirant for loves
favor is young Louis, of the guards and
brother to o duke, but, my dear,
his affection resembles an empty pocket
book-valueless to the possessor. Some
love, you know, like the well-flled
purse, will meet the wishes of your
heart, but his, alas, answer to my
first smile, empty, valueless. Edouard,
the third, more tickle than the wind,
for that uncertain element will some
times indicate its course, while he never
does-diferent man each day of the
week and wearied with so much same
ness. oft assumes an additional charac-
ter or SO between times. The Earl,
royal only in name, and now l come to
No. 5rRaoul, the dark-eyed barrister,
with profession but no practice"
"Why that sigh Portia?" But the
maiden, ne'er needing our silent query,
passes on to No. 6, which she disposes
ofthus: "Now Mignonrette, last, if not
least, allow me to present to you his
Royal highness, Lord R., worth l know
not how many millions, and l need not
tell you, by my aunt considered the
eligible party. He Is dissipated and
heartless, without doubt, but then the
world overlooks such trihes if counter
balanced by a sufficient bark account"
and something like a sheer curled the
tempting lips Of the lovely American MS
with an impatient gesture she tossed
aside the millionaire's photo and re-
turned to that of the young barrister.
her look of scorn changing to one of
triumphant and steadfast devotion as
she murmured, 80 low that Mignonnette
only half guessed her meaning: Gar
more precious than q royal diadem is q
loyal heart"
At twilight of the same day upon
which the above conversation took place
Portia is standing at the drawing-room
window of her aunt's stately mansion
near the grand venue of the Champs
Elysee, where partially hidden by the
heavy curtains, which fall in graceful
folds around her silent white-robed fig
ure, she seems, in the cleaning shad-
ows, n Of those angel visitants who,
lifting with loving hands the mystic veil
come at the vesper hour to wish us good
night and carry prayers to heaven,
while in the dark azure sky above the
stars come silently one by n as if to
light for return the angels pathway
and Portia still dreams at the window.
gazing anon into the somewhat deserted
street, and y little beyond. the place de
IEtoile, with the famous arch of Tri-
umph. whose lofty and imposing pro-
portions seem like a mighty sentinel
keeping watch over the slumbering city
and at a shor. distance the SPACIOUS ay-
enne Bots de Bologne, beautiful in the
moonlight with the paths and flowing
gardens leading to the park, the famous
Bots de Bologne, q favorite resort and
most delightful retreat, its sparkling
lakes now cleaning in wondrous scin-
~tillating beauty kissed by the Radiant
Queen of Night.
More thar beautiful 'tis glorious, d.
vine," murmured a young mar, who,
emerging from one of the shady paths
overhung by luxuriant foliage passed
on his way to the avenue Bots de Bo-
logne, md thence to a splendid man
sion, where in the window stands a
white-robed maiden. The young man
quickens his ste ps as in the distance he
describes the lovely picture, and at the
same instant the expectant look in Por-
tia's dreaming eyes. gave place To- one Of