The Abilene reflector. [volume] (Abilene, Kan.) 1883-1888, 1884-01-03
A BACHELORS CONFESSION.

A BACHELORS CONFESSION.
Those who for twenty years and more
have been absent from home had best. ac-
cordlng to my experience, remain away al
together. To return is to destroy illusions
hitherto firmly believed in; ones friends
are dead, are married, have gone away, or
are no longer the same one remembers
them. Your very birthplace is lost to you:
the house you once called home is perhaps
school-house, the fields You PLAYED in are
covered with villas, down the green lanes
rows of shops run. Few stings come more
sharply than that feeling of being a
stranger where once YOU stood familiar.
Ihe smart had sent me from England row
ing over tue Continent, never stopping at
any one place long enough 10 find enjoy
ment in it; and now, my years holiday all
but expired, | was returning with a heart
tlghtened by the anticipation of going back
to India and settling down among nv old
chums, who would, | knew, welcome nv
advent and listen to my stories. Not that
had many to relate; one seldom expa-
tlates on the experience of disappointment,
and mine was not a temperament to court
or attract adventure. An everyday, COM
mon-place, tifty-year-old bachelor is al
lowed to go his own way without getting
much notice given to him.
was returning to London from Paris by
way of Dieppe: the month was September,
and the weather was hot enough to make
the longer sea journey seem inviting.
found myself at the station with a good
half hour TO spare, and to while away the
time bought books, newspapers, fruit,
emptled my pockets, arranged nv note
book, and sorted my money!. It. seemed to
me l had good deal more French gold than
need carry back with me, and [ asked a
milltary-looking individual standing bv if
he knew OF a money-chanGer handy. Yes,
there was one round the corner of the op-
poslte street, not ten doors away-he would
keep an eye on my belongings while went
so far. L started, found the house, man.
aged my business, and returned Just in
time TO be let out on the platform, hurried
to SECURE corner seat in a carriage
When L had drawn breath il struck me
need not have been in such hustle, for al
though there was a crowd of passengers in
tho waltlng-room, none of them came in
my way; apparently / was going to make
4 solitary journey. Not too fast, though:
here comes some Ow-travelerS-tw0 4
man and n Young lady: they pass NV car
rlsge, come back again, hesitate, look
round; and finally she gets in and he
walks away, 10 return few minutes Infer
ami stands chatting at the window. ont Of
which she leans. ! Get a good view of the
mans tace-,Iof a DiraSGntoup To my mind :.
MS eyes roam uIeas.lv about, as if looking
for some one who hos not come: and
though the girl is talking earnestly and
1ulci =, he seems to pay very scant atten-
lion to her.
Up comes the guard-.here is final
scrutiny of tickets. banging of doors. n
shrek, -rO0u, 4 Shrill whistle and We ar,.
oh-uneXpectedlv as il seems to NV com
pauinn. Tor she starts M CRYING: papa
papa =" and then: so. mon njeu :" and then
she has sunk down on the seat in Il passion
IF tears.
'sNoI, I oSl, anI- ,,r,,,rain,Isr.,l ,,,,,..,,,,
this was the way | Soliloquizad on the
Occ1Si0D-"what have | done that I%houlG
have the grief of this Young Niobe forced
upon me" Positively the girl seemed
able 10 turn on taps Of tears, for when she
drew away her handkerchief from her ewes
1t was wet and sopping. An idea seemed
TO have occurred to herself that this utter
abandonment was little out of season:
for, after throwing a timid glance i'll my
direction, sha reSOlutelv closed her hand
over the ball her handkerchief was reduced
to, huttOned her eyelids tight over her ewes
as If determined not to let ont any more
of the tears that were there, tucked up her
feet, and sat silently battling with tie sobs
which she could not quite overcome.
| cannot now remember what it was that
interested me in the paper: but something
caught my notice and [ suppose for n time
engroSSed my attention, for the next thing
| recollect was train of thought travel
ing back into past DAYS, caused bymv eyes
having fallen on my fellOw-traveler. She
WAS fast asleep now, and was able totake
a good look at her. Poor child, | wondered
what was the cause of her sorrow-could il
be leaving that broken down, rascally-
looking father: Suddenly vision OF nv
self came To me, and Twas living over that
day. when at something about her age, |
had left behind all that was dear TO me.
Great heaven, the agony had endured az
saving go0d-by to mother, the horrible
forlOrnneSs that took possession of me-
LAUGHED me out into the world alone, with
out a creature near to care for me- The
mere sight of the scar left by those suffer
ingS stirred up my compassion to this little
stranger, whose feelings seem so tender
Why, she could be barely seventeen: her
face was much younger than iIer figure:
round, peachy cheeks, where dimples love
TO linger. rosebud of a mouth, and ewes
for at that instant she opened them-as
blue as the forget-me-nOtS that grow by
the river. Over the face there stole little
pinkey flush and then there came a timid,
conscious air. such as child puts on who
fears it has offended you. Before knew
It i was smiling at her, and she, though
still looking afraid, began 70 essay a half
smile back. Confound it, what nuisance
that l could not speak better French-I
should like to say something to her-but
what: Happy thought the pears that l
had provided myself with at tbs stationl l
seized the basket. c.
'Mademoiselle," said, "voulez-vous &C
ceptez une?', and held them before her.
OH those roguish dimples that came out
in hide-and-seek all over the. face as she
answered:
Monsieur, am not French, but En-
glish, like you"
"Then do have onew and in my haste to
press them on her / gave a little jerk for
ward, which sent the whole half-dozen roll
ing on the floor. Well, by the time we
picked them up, crawled under the carrisge
seat, bumped our heads together, and were
reseated little the worse for dust, we had
become friends and laughed honestly and
lid me good to see her plunge her little