Butte semi-weekly miner. [volume] (Butte, Mont.) 1886-1890, 1886-11-27

- 1esRy riusced oror11y. ~ nr-., !,
grow DARK, out 1pivens did nor cor,o ~.
SAT on the doorsteps watching the nioht hi
splash about in the air and listen;ns - 3.
cr1ckets chirping away like mad ~
eleven o'clock as I live.n exclaimed n.
1Ie VI q sudden, looking at his watch.
Peggy. ' SAT-
y you want me to waltz
terror" VIA Wi
Goodnight, he said, goodnight. I vii
conn tomorrow" w."
he held both her hands for a moment, tber
snouloered his fishing tackle and tr,dpei
uown 1ne road without turning his head. I'm
ne 4ul"neo a DIT OF a song as he went.
- suppose Ma'am Truf"-for into thi,
Madame truth degenerated-"wiu be ont III
ner w,ts at my staying out so late" he muir
fishing" Ae "eel
Never Was philosopher adrift in such con.
of a sail. Az Rag
Mr.. Tucker finished his breakfast the ne.t
aay very successfully, but philosophy was out
~ OuO 4ucSt1Ou.
ne had but to close his eyes to feel the cool
night air stealing out of the woods: to he
1oanng once more on the tumble-down door.
steps, saying all sorts of foolish-wise things.
While Peggy's confidential little hand snug.
gled warm in his.
Bah, You old fooit' he exclaimed. scr,-
tinlzlng himself in the glass over the fire.
place.
We'll, we'll" he continued, somewhat de-
Jectedly, PHILOSOPHY has gone to picking
straws and there's nothing left but the image
OF that ridiculous girl; bless me, what a ma
hgnant devil this fellow Fate is" he added.
with some warmth. Here's a girl whose
speech IS atrocious, who would as soon think
of wearing"
And here am 1! And yet what eyes she
has, b bashful eyes; and her hand, such a
modest, electrical little hand, and such -
l always thought I would marry some time
or other. Eneas Sylvius advises one to wait
until middle age-bless me, that dimple in her
chin, 50 demurely self-assertive; and he;
mouth, so bashfully appealing, 30 irresolute,
SO dewy, and fresh, and-d-n It'll" con-
cluded Mr.. Tucker, @I-going fishing"
And at IL o'clock in the morning, delicious
old 1zaak would have soured into a mug
Wump ut the mere thought of it.
MIR. Tucker called for Sandy, but no Sandy
came, and at last, something out of breath
and temper, set out to look for his fishing
tackle. OF course he didn't find it. One
never finds anything when one wants it, and
he had just determined that rod and line
were altogether super1uous for a p~hilosophic
fisherman, when he noticed that the door of
the carriage house was ajar.
ut may be in there" he unused, "and at all
events I might as well see."
He pushed the door wide open and looked
in. It was a dusty, musty place, smelling of
old hay and oil and leather. In the middle
of the floor was an old wood sledge, and on
this, perched as cozily as two robins on a
frosty twig, sat Sandy and Peggy. Sandy's
placid, freckled face was -beaming with con-
tentment, and Peggy, smuggling up to him,
was rosy as a new plucked pippin.
"Sandy," said Mr.. Tucker, and one would
have thought he was blind as love is said to
be, lis my fishing tackle here?'
fright hyah, Mass Dick, I was jes,-n
avery WELL" returned Mr.. Tucker, Shout
dering his rod and marching off.
Standing in the roadway, he paused a mo-
ment to consider. He knew the sunlight was
glimmering through the trees and flirting
with the lazy ripples Of the creek; no knew
the wood birds were piping drowsily in the
heat, and the glossy pickerel surfeiting in
the reeds.
Up in the hills, he remembered, lay tuck
er's dip" a pool scorched half dry by the sun
and given up to bullheads. After a moments
consideration he began to whistle "Dixien
lou n very fast, and tramped sturdi-
1v nm the road towards UTnckeriS din n-E
Thompson in Chicago Tribune.