The Maryville times. (Maryville, Tenn.) 1884-1944, 1886-09-08
REPEATING ITSELF.
But Instead of History It Was
Romance.

"Close the shutters, Kitty. What
terrible night it is, to be sure. The rain
is coming down in floods"
A barrack ground, stiff and ugly I'M
der the most favorable circumstances,
looking like a desert in the wind and
rain, was just visible.
"Why, Aunt Bell" said the girl,
pausing with one hand on the shutter,
'herc is name scratched on this pane
of glass. l never noticed it till this
minute"
"What is the namep' asked the old
lady, half asleep by the fire.
'Kinloch, Scots Greys, 1916" read
the young girl, land then kitty writ
ten very badly just below"
"Kinlock! Kitty" said Aunt Bell,
starting up with sudden interest.
why, that must be the same man"
Then she sank back again. murmur-
ing: "Ah, Kitty, there was love in
those days, and romance, too"
us there no love now?" said Kitty,
coming to her aunt's side and kneeling
down on the hearth rug.
The ruddy flames and glow from the
fire lit up the girls chestnut hair, fair
complexion, and bright hazel eyes.
Aunt Bell gazed lovingly down at the
piquant little face and said:
Nov and again we meet some of
the right kind, but would you like to
hear the story Of that namesake OF
yours, Kitty?"
Very much"
''Well, fifty years ago, as you know,
] was Il girl of sixteen. and was invited
to spend the summer months with my
aunt, who then had one of the finest
houses in this county of Kildare.
Several regiments were stationed at
the camp and at neighboring village,
so you may imagine the girls of the
party and l anticipated gay time.
Oh, those summer months! l grow
Young again as think of them! The
rides across the Curragh in the fresh
morning air, when in parties of ten or
.,f,een we would gallop for miles on
the stretches of breezy turf; the hand.
some omcers who played hide-and-seek
with us in the evening hours all over
the big house, starting out of corners
and chasing us breathlessly down the
slippery oaken corridors. Then, tired
ont, we would stroll into the garden,
and under the trees there would be
songs, ilirtations and whispered conf
dcnces and promises made by the score
and never fulfilled. What mad, mer
~ time it was! The merriest and hand
somest of all was a young Scotch Lieu.
tenant, Kinloch Kinloch. His mother
WAS Irish, and had bequeathed him hel
beauty and propensity for joking.
"And now for Kitty, the heroine
She was the daughter of gardener
who lived about mile from my aunt:
house. and of all the distractingl,
pretty girls that have made men de
silly things l am sure Kitty was one o.
the prcttiest- l can't do her Justice
but can tell you she had the Irish blue
eye; "a complexion like milk, hair o
the silkiest chestnut, curling in rings
all over her brow, and slender, up
right figure, the envy of all our girls
One day, as large party of us wert
talking under the trees, Kitty passed
us with basket of fruit. Kinloch fol
the first time noticed the girl, anC
seemed struck dumb with amazement
He stood at little distance, and KEEP
his eyes fixed on her. 1t was love from
that very moment, and every one
noticed it. All the young men swarmet
about the girls basket and began help
ing themselves. She expostulated, bu
they put her off. Said one:
Sure, Kitty, and you would like u
to have the best, I'll be bound
Another said: Malone, one kis
from that cheek with the flush of tn,
peach upon it will save you from thes
rascally thieves, for Will fight then
all for such a favor.
'But Kitty would not be bribed, ant
seemed about to resign herself TO tn
loss of her fruit, when Kinloch shoul
dered his way into the group, and Civ
ing the last speaker friendly push
cried: Leave the girl alone, Grant
please Then he turned to Kitty, say
ing: 1T is very heavy for your littl
arms. and there will come no on
stealing the fruit now, I'm thinking.
".Thank you, said Kitty. gratefully
and walked along by his side.
THAT is the first time have seel