Middlebury register. (Middlebury, Vt.) 1886-1937, 1886-10-08

berry vines and nigger-heads Oscar
Wilde sunfiowers), which bordered the
lines of worm-fenre seemed to wave
their long branches and shake their
saucy heads in derision Of this too sue.
cessful lover, who was afraid to take
the good the gods prov ided. On, on, he
went, past the corn field, past the
lodge of cucumbers where dwelt his
chosen bug, into a dusty road that led to
town, and narrow path that ambled
here and there among lush green grasses,
and finally lost itself on the
bank of a willow-framed brook. He
followed the brook to where it twisted
around little knoll crowned with cot
tonwoo1 trees. There he sat down.
Sould he marry this lovely, loving
girl, or was he honor bound to leave her
to Lee? Over and over, the question
asked itself she was so fair, so deli
cate, surely, life on farm would be for
her burden too heavy to be borne;
and, evidently, it was not Lee she loved.
His temples throbbed as he remembered
the look that revealed her girlish soul.
Would it not be a crime to allow her to
fling away her hand where her heart was
not? He remembered reading of a case
in point where gentle yielding maid,
sad from the conviction of love unre-
ciprocated, had married one who loved
her, and died of atropia.
The die was cast-he must save herr
Dear Rose! dear Mrs. Timotheus n.
Jones in prospectu! How she loved him.
how she loved science! He should have
to take house and furnish it. And
that would take time, and, what he had
still less to spare, money. The book
would be interrupted, trips about the
country to study the habits of Dory-
phora decent ineata would be discon-
tinued. A crumpled roseleaf, ayes
a very decided thorn!
He began at the beginning and
thought it all over again.
The shadows grew long, the crickets
came out, the night fell.
He started farmhouseward.
At the hickory trees he came to a
decision He would leave all in the
iady's hands. He would put a sup
positltious case, and let her comments
guide him. He felt almost positive
what she would say. Woman, the
most reliable authorities have stated,
is creature governed by the impulses
of the affections; she particularizes, she
cannot generalize on questions of ex-
pediencv, and merge the cravings of the
individual in the polity of ce-aspira-
tions.
He went softly by the window; he
heard Roses voice:
Dear Walter, you cannot know how
lonely | have been without you. Only
duty to poor mamma has made me en-
dure 1t. have had no solace but your
letters, no companionship but your
photograph"
lnvoluntarily, he looked in. Was
that, could that be Rose? and who was
that handsome stranger with his arm
around her waist?
The spheres seem to be breaking up
the stars tumbling from the sky. He
CROPPED amid chaos for the front door
Suddenly shape confronted him.
Say, professor" it said huskily, "I'n
going over into another county in the
morning, to look at some hogs, and
guess I'd better explain my little joke
before l go, | amt after Miss Rose
She's too finicky for farmers wife. I've
got my eye on one of Pettigrew's girls.
was only chatting the other night.
got to thinking, yesterday, I'd as wei
explain the joke or you mightnt see it
You know you've been innsbruck, anc
that makes a fellow kind O. dull anC
queer for while, but you'll right up il
time"
The shape disappeared, leaving the
unhappy lover in a whirl that made the
laws of gravitation visible to the naked
eye. Was-was he kind O dull anC
queer" Was this rudely shattered dream
of connubial bliss the delirium of couI
de soleil?
He could not answer-in fact he wa!
afraid to hazard any guesses. Tha
night he packed his effects with trem
bling hands, and hied away.
From time to time his symptoms re-
turned in mild form, but as Andy LIE,
had prophesied, he ~righted up" Afte
the night he looked in the window, hi
was never dangerously affected, saw,
when he received Mrs. Walter Stacey
wedding cards. Even that paroxysm
passed harmlessly, and he took pensiv,
satisfaction in sending her a valuable
collection of grasshoppers, originally in
tended for the Smithsonian institute
Julia Scott in Overland Monthly.