The Democratic press. [volume] (Ravenna, O. [Ohio]) 1868-1901, 1885-09-17
A ROMANCEO THE SEA.
With an Axiom That All Young Ladies'
Should Heed.

Long Branch.
1t was blowing great guns. A June
wind whipped tho sea into spume and
sent it flying into the bathing-houses
and bank in riffs of spray. Fashion
shivered in Overcoats and furs ON the
esplanade. The farmers back ON the
sand runes said they had never seen
anything like it. The hay burnt up
before it matured; the corn stood only
eight inches In tho eornfield, and tho
peas hadn't had warmth enough to
make their pods.
1t was so frigid at tho West end that
fashion escaped having its blood chill
ed only by not having any blood. The
wild waves did nothing all day but hiss
at tho people on tho shore, aud one
amateur vocalist who tried to sing,
"Brcak, break. break" sent all the
bank cashiers bowling from the hotel
parlOr.
'.Dieu me pardonnc," said Mrs. Cam
opus. who prays and swears in French,
t.but it is cold here!" and she puts her
Japanese parasol up to keep off the
temperature. mot Irritation to warm
ones cheeks at, and she tried to score
failure on her forehead with the tip
of the parasol, but the wind had blown
all the Paris white off.
Very bleak was the esplanade. The
cquipages that came out at 4 o'clock
had rugs piled up in them and the
horses tails were blown out straight to
leeward, The Grosvenor Platts had a
children's party last night at the hotel
and they shut the windows and played
pawns round blazing wood fire.
came down here to get the dust
and ashes of the winter blown out of
me. So lean up against the ocean
blast contidingly and look at the pa
geantry of tho sea and the froth of
fashion.
The belle of the place is little Dora
Cranston. You probably remember
her last season ut Richfield Springs,
where she and Zelie de Lussan walked
away with all the admiration. 1t is
only three summers ago that ! saw her
digging the sand down there on the
beach with wooden paddle. One
day she threw down her pail and SHOW
ell, struck pensive attitude, with her
little white finger on her forehead, and
changed her mind.
What nonsense it is being a child"
she said. 'I'm tired of digging sand.
I'm going up to the hotel, be a woman,
and flirt."
The next time / saw her she was in
long dresses. The transformation
scene had taken place in one night.
The evolution of u woman is not sci
ence it is magic. She capers along
rs Il girl up to some great emotion,
and then suddenly uplaces her girlhood
and puts it away forever.
Pardon mr." she says to you the
next morning when you attempt to
chuck her under the chin. Pardon
me; we were acquainted, but that was
yesterday. IL is not customary to treat
u lady with such familiarity,'
She has the stamp of maturity on her
mouth.
If you call attention to her shovel
and pail or to her doll, lying neglected
OH the shore, she lifts her eyebrows and
remarks: .'Some poor little dear of
yesterday has left it there.
These little Columbines of society
make such rapid changes that we poor,
slow-maturing men are put to our met
tie to follow them.
Between II and 20 q woman plays
lfer whole drama of life. After that
she sits in the audience and looks on.
Dora Cranslon is Cranston no long
er. suppose you know that. il you
know anything about it. She married
railroad iron, and some of it has gone
into her heart. was looking ut her
last night as she stood in the moon
light on the piazza, and had fancy
that the two parallel lines ON her pref
ty forehead resembled a narrow-guage
track.
And all this in three years.
Certainly and more. 1t is the Long
Branch romance. 1t comes with the
June skies regularly.
Ii you ferret out real romance by
the sea you will generally find that it
goes the wrong way.
lean not help recalling Mrs. Cano-
pus' remark:
Oh transport dun cpur glacel
Doras is frozen.
..Where's your poetP" L asked, the
moment 1 got Confidential opportu-
nifty.
II buried him In the sand with my
paddle long ago." she replied with a
laugh.
She spoke of two years as long ago.
with our memory" L said. The
moon is shining and the wind has gone
down"
Anything that isn't tiresome. she
cried, land the past Is awfully funny
| sometimes.
He told me everything, you know.
| So we can be frank, 1 said.
She sat down on the rustic bench,
and very beautiful she was in the glare
| of that brassy June moon.
This is the girl whose cheeks. two
| years ago, looked like lilies and whose
lips spoke roses. making continual
garland of expression.
used to see the red tide-mark in hel
| cheek whenever she met him. Now
she was as cold as the late season. She
had the whole sophistry of life at hel
finger-ends. She broathed irony a:
easily as she looked hypocrisy.
Yes, you know all about it, o.
COURSE" she said. You ought tC
make a story of it 1t has all the hui
NOR, all the folly, all the piquancy o
the commonplace romance. Why, W,
sat in this very place two summers
ago and did tho whole traditional bus
| mess.
Then the leaden sea shimmored il
golden fire mists. He used to hold MI
spell-bound sitting just where you are
| remember used to cuddle up to hin
and listen. 1t was like an anthem. ID
YOU know l used to think that if any
body took him away I'd die, and on
night when he did not come down ol
the boat went down to the shore am
sat there in the sand and cried as if IN
heart would break. Children do som
of the most extraordinary things
and she laughed again. "A girl ha
to have just so much candy aud sent
ment till she gets a surfeit. DO yo
remember any of the girls of two sum
mers agop"
"Do I? Every one of them. Their
were the SandisQps. had the blue co,