Burlington weekly free press. [volume] (Burlington, Vt.) 1866-1928, 1885-07-17
iHAPTER XVIII.
CONFESSIONS.

CONFESSIONS.
It was but another instance Of the curl
ously magnetic influence of this mans
personality That she instantly and unhesi-
tatingly assumed that what he wrote must
be of value. Now every second human be
ing, as well she knew writes verses at one
period of his life and these are mostly
trash and remain discreetly hidden, or
are mercifully burned. But what Ronald
wrote she was already certain, must be
Characteristic of himself, and have inter
est, and definite worth and what better
could she do than get hold of some of
these things, and have them introduced to
the public, perhaps with some little pre-
urinary enComiumS written by n friend
= ~ hand She had heard from the little
Maggie thai Ronald had never sent any of
his writings to the newspapers might
not this BE- - service She could not offer
him sovereign because he happened to be
IN the boat when she caught her first sal
mon but inme-the appeal to the wide
reading public-the glory of print Nay.
might they not be of some commercial
value also? She knew but little of the
customs of the Chicago journals.
but she guessed that a roundabout hint
conveyed to Mr.. John G. IIuysen would
not be without effect. And what were
the subjects, she asked herself, that Ron
ala wrote about In praise of deer-stalk-
lux lol 'Ht lHlnH, ana mountain cunning
and out door life. she feI assured you
could see it in his gait and in his look
you could hear 1t in his laugh and hls
singing as he went along the road. Poll
tics, lrlhapS-if sarcastic verses were in
his way .Ur there wa a sharp SAVIOR run
ming through his talk ; and he took
abundant interest in public affairs. Or
perhaps he would be for recording the
charms Of some rustic maiden some" Jes-
sic, the Flower of Dunblane'-some blue
eyed and rather silent and uninteresting
young person, living alone in glen, and
tending cattle, or hanging ont things to
dry on hedge5 Well even a song would
be something. The Chjcdgo Citizen
might not pay very much for it, but the
great and generous public might take
kindly to it and if Jack Huysen did not
say something friendly about it, then she
would know the reason why.
But the stiffest struggle Miss Carry ever
had with amy salmon was mere child's
play compared with the fight she had with
Ronald himself over this matter. At first
he was exceedingly angry that she should
have been told but then he laughed, and
said to her that there were plenty of folk
in Scotland as elsewhere who wrote idle
verses, but that they had the common
sense to say nothing about it, If she
wanted memento of her stay in the
Highlands, to take back with her to Amer
lea, he would give her her choice of the
deer skins he had in the shed that would
he appropriate-and she was welcome to
the best of them but as for scribblings
and nonsense of that kind-no, no. On
the other hand she was Just as persistent
and treated him TO a little gentle raillery
wondering that he had not vet outgrown
the years of shyness and finally when
everything else had failel, putting her re-
quest as a grace and courtesy to be
granted to an American stranger This
was hardly far but she was very anx-
ious about the matter and she knew that
her demand WAS founded far less on mere
curiosity than on an honest desire to do
him a service.
OF course he yielded and terrible time
he had of it the night he set about select
ing something to show to her. For how
could she understand the circumstances
in which these random things We're writ
ten-these idle fancies of a summer morn
ing-these careless love Songs-these
rhymed epistles in which the practical
CommonsenSe and shrewd advice were
much more conspicuous than any graces
of art. And then, again, so mauy of them
were about Meenie; and these were for
hidden; the praise of Meenie-even when
it was the birds and the roses and the fox
gloves and the summer rillS that sang of
her-was not for alien eyes. But at last
he lit upon some verses supposed to con-
vey the sentiments of certain eXiles met
together on Newly Years Night in Nova
Scotia; ana he thought it was simple
kind of thing; at all events, it would get
him out of a grieNous difficulty. So-for
the lines had been written many a day
ago, and came upou him now with new
aspect-he altered a phrase here or there,
by way of passing the time; and finally he
made fair copy. The next morning, be-
ing Sunday, he espied Miss Carry walk
ing down toward the river; and he over
took her and gave her this little piece to
redeem his pledge.
"ltsnot worth much" said he, "but
you II understand what it is about Burn
it when you We read it-that's all ask of
ye'-then on he went, glad not to be
croSs-questiCned, the faithful Harry trot-
ting at his heels
SO she sat down on the stone parapet of
the little bridge-on this hu,hed, still
shining morning that was quite summer
like in its calm-and opened the paper
with not a little curiosity And well
enough she understood the meaning Of
the little piece; she knew that the Mac
kays pronounced Mackise) used to live
about here: ana was not StrathNave but
few miles Off and this the very Mudal
River running underneath the bridge on
which she was sitting? But here are the
verses she read-and he had entitled them,
TO BE Continued