The Democratic press. [volume] (Ravenna, O. [Ohio]) 1868-1901, 1886-09-16
WHY 1 REPENTED.

When l was a young man fell in
love. ds young men generally do, with
the girl who came handiest. This par
ticular girl happened to be Belle Bur-
ton, and devoted myself to her-rode
with her, boated with her Git was q
country place where we metz, walked
with her, talked with her. begged her
for the roses she wore in her hair. and
tried in vain (for l was no poe) to
make sonnets not only to her 'eye-
brows," but to her hair. her cheeks, and
her ily-white hands. In fact, l went
through the pretty dream of first love as
most young people do. and it ended, as
it generally does, in an unpleasant
awakening.
One day the stage arrived at the hotel
with dozen dashing New-Yorkers for
passengers. The next, one of them OBJ
tanned an Introduction to Belle Burton.
There was no doubt whatever that he
was handsomer than men usually are,
or that his grace and accomplishments
were equal to his personal charms.
Handsome Arnold he was generally
called, and girls went into raptures over
his large, long-lashed eyes and blonde
mustache, and men feared his broad
shoulders, deep chest, and splendid
proportions. For my part | hated him
from the first, for no sooner had he ap-
peared upon the carpet than Belle
seemed utterly to forget my very exist
ence.
suppose she had never cared any
thing about me, but she had flirted with
me while there was no better fun to be
had, and l was not old enough to know
that the man she loves is the one no
woman ever tlirts with. With Arnold
she was rather graver than with most
men, but her eyes sparkled as he APP
preached her. She blushed when his
name was mentioned, and cared for
nothing in which he had not some
share. In fact, it was as plain that she
was in love with him as that he was de-
voted 10 her; and there was no doubt
in any ones mind that all this would
end in a wedding. 1t was a good
thing, said the old people. for poor
Belle Burton, for she "had nothing"
For my part it seemed to me that all the
luck was Arnolds.
| should have taken my departure and
put myself out of the way of hourly
torture. but | did not do so wisely. |
fingered about the place and did small
things to spite the happy pair-intruded
on the tele-a-tetes, managed to force the
society of some excellent and loquacious
matron or some troublesome child upon
them, looked daggers of contempt at
him and forgot to pass the butter to
her At last Il grand chance to annoy
him occurred. He was a good rider
and proud of his accomplishment, and
he had Il rCstive. nervous animal which
he boasted no one could ride but HIM
self. | had heard him declare himself
perfect master of the creature, who
| had never given him serious trouble
save once, when suddenly brought into
the presence of an artist who was sketch
ing under white umbrella.
| That" said Handsome Arnold, "was
something Prince could not under
stand, ami made him forget who held
| the bridle."
As he came prancing up to the gate
or rode away with an air used to wish
| for an artist with a white umbrella. l
desired to see that fellow unseated and
ingloriously turned into the mud. That
would have made me happy; and once
| when he had offended ME more than
| ever by his gallant style of riding l
| sauntered out into the tields-curslng
him in my inmost soul-when what
should l spy in the middle OF the grass,
| intent upon Il bunch of clover, but fat
re-Raphaelite artist in white suit, a
Tapping hat, and a white sketching
umbrella that would have frightened
the clergyman's gray mare, who was
nearly as old as himself, into being a
runaway.
l rushed toward this artist with en-
thusiasm. took off my hat to him.
said:
Sir, rejoice that one of your glori-
ous profession has at last visited us.
You love the minute, see. Have you
noticed the spider-webs on the black
berry bushes at the turn of the lane. the
dew sparkling on the silvery film, the
delicious fruits growing beneath-have
you seen that. sir?"
The pre-Raphaelite artist scratched
his head with his brush and said:
"Well. no. l amt"
..Will you come and see it, sir?"
said. "Will you make it immortal on
your canvas?"
The pre-Raphaelite artist replied:
..Well, wouldn't mind"
did not care what he said so that ht
came. My object was not art; it was
the white umbrella. l desired to have
him seated where the eye of handsome
Arnold's restive Prince would fall upon
him as he turned the corner of the
garden walk, and to that very spot
beruiled my artist and there stationed
him, and, when he had settled will
Chinese precision to his spiderweb anC
blackberrics, hid myself behind a tret
to enjoy the comic scene l fully ex
! pected would follow.
| heard handsome Arnold bid adler
to the ladies. heard the patter of hi
horses feet upon the road, and in ,
moment more | saw him come gayl,
on, Il smile upon his handsome face. ;
rich color on his cheeks-youth. health
strength. happiness expressed in ever.
curve and outline of his statuesqu
form. The next instant Prince hat
seen the white artist and the white um
brella. And then-then, Heaven for
! give me, not the amusing spectacle o
7 handsome Arnold's discontinue that
had hoped to see. He kept his seat
while Prince, rearing and plungine
dashed wildly away with him toward
precipitous path along the cliff side an
= vanished like mad thing with hi
rider SUN upon HIS Otch, going suaiSu
toward certain awful precipice whIcl
overhung the rocky river shore below
cannot go Oh. They picked hin
up Just alive. no more. at the foot @
that precipice; and they carried him
mere mass of broken bones and bleed
ing flesh back to the great hotel. Lat
at night l crept softly upstairs on m
way to bed, and, passing Belle Burton
door, heard those slow, heavy sobs tina
tell of a breaking heart issuing thence
"He cannot liVe." the messenger ha
said, and | was perhaps doubly mul
derer | thought seriously of adding t
my crime by committing suicide tbs