Savannah courier. (Savannah, Tenn.) 1885-1979, 1886-05-27

poses; anu when l heard her quick |
witted replies, / was sure that she
must be finding favor in his eyes. But
he had the true spirit of scientific in
yestigation, and refused to anticipate.
When we were left alone at night, and,
trimming over with excitement, /
asked his opinion of her. he only an |
swered:
''Well, she seems a sensible girl, and
she is certainly pretty one. She has
her fathers eyes. Did l ever tell you
the story of Philip d'Agincourt and the
French mariner"
But / was in no mood for listening
to my uncle's yarns, and hastily babe
him goodnight.
During the week Miss d'Agincourt
and | walked and talked and rode and
read together, and my life was raised
to very high pressure. One look
from those deep eyes could raise me
to state of ecstatic happiness or
plunge me into the depths of misery.
How delightful were such possibilities
in comparison with the monotony of
my previous existence! Is not love
like Captain Whites Oriental pickle,
"a most delicious combination of
sweets and sours?" / could not help
fancying that Rose was mot altogether
indifferent to me-" as modest young
men say in novels; but the uncertainty,
and the alterations of hope and fear
plagued me terribly, and made me I'M
commonly glad when the Saturday ar
rived on which my uncle had prom
ised to pronounce his verdict. What
that verdict would be had no doubt;
for my uncle was evidently fascinated
by the girl he had undertaken to ana
lyze, and l could hardly think that after
the first evening he had the heart to
dissect her.
"Well, Reginald" said my uncle,
smoking his after-breakfast pipe upon
that Saturday morning, my observa-
tons of Rose d'Agincourt were soon
completed. She is good, honest, sem
sible and practicable little woman"
My ears tingled with delight.
Eyes, uncle: and you wish me to"
al don't wish you to do any thing
except make yourself civil to the girl so
long as she remains here. Of course l
am rather disappointed that she has
turned out so different from what ex-
pected, but we must look elsewhere. /
don't mean to say that 1 regret her
visit here, for she is very pleasant
soul to have about the house-a de-
lightful little body. Think we have all
enjoyed her company
"Butuncle," gasped, "you said she
is so sensible and good, and l am sure
she is both. What objection can there
be to herp I think one might go far
Their and fare worse / added, with a
foolish laugh.
"My dear boy" replied my uncle,
taking his pipe from his lips and pro-
ceeding to mount his hobby, "she is an
excellent woman, an admirable wom-
an. She would make capital wife
for poet or a novelist. l think OF
asking Tom Woodbird down to meef
her. If l could marry those two, il
would be beautiful match. OF course
/ must give up all thoughts of mating
her with a practical fellow like you,
such marriage could produce moth.
ing but the commonplace. You have
neither of you one iota of Imagination,
1t is a disappointment to me, Iconfess
for, personally, l like the girl very
much, and every thing else is in heI
favor"
could restrain myself no longer.
"Uncle," l cried, ~ hope you're
not serious, because I'm in love witt
her!"
II thought you seemed rather smit
ten," said my uncle, with the mos
aggravating GOODNESS, "but the feelins
will soon pass away. As for your bein!
in love with her, even you must Sc,
that such thing is psychological.
absurd. You know very well how Otter
l have told you that it is only the at
traction of opposites which produc
any real and lasting attachment. Now
; there can not possibly be any such at
,. traction between two equally sensibl
| persons, like Rose and you"
, "I'm not sensible, uncle; Iwrite poe
try"
"What!" exclaimed my uncle, bound
ing out of his chair as if he had bee
shot. "Is that true, Reginald Tha
!, would alter the case indeed. But it
impossible. Some moralizing doggere
,, --ehp Good. solid matter-of-fact, cut int
!, longs and shorts. All, my dear Regi
: maid, that isn't poetry!'
Now, l was not little vain Of tn
results of my surreptitious courtshi
of the MUSES., and these remarks chafe
me.
81 don't mean to say that | hav
written any thing first rate, but | hop
r it's better than you suppose.
1 "Well, WE'LL" said my uncle, wit
r that kindly incredulous smile of hi
7 "bring your verses to me tonight, an
5 I'll look at them. And now go into tn
0 garden and play croquet with Rose"
l Was ever budding poet placed
/ such a situationp The happiness ,
S my life hung upon the power of m
i verse. 1t was with feverish in
n patience that / opened the DIES
IS which held my little store
y honey, and sat down to select
) sample for uncle's palate. Dear m
e what poor stuff it was! Surely l hs
= known flashes of fancy, and expeI
l. enced the poets frenzy, or could
II have been only the frenzy for scri
d bling? With a sinking heart l cho
/ three or four of my most cherished pr
auctions, and took them with me
r. show to my uncle after dinner.
IS When the ladies had retired, gulpt
), down glass of claret, and produce
D the Ms. from my pocket. My unc
If took them with smile which real
d tried my strong affection for him, pror
/ Using to look at them before bed tim
Of He had evidently no faith in my poe
b ical genius.
m Rose was more fascinating that eve