Waterbury evening Democrat., 1889-04-10
THE LAGGARD LETTER.
Amusing Romance of the Lady Of
 AIsthetic Tastes.

AnausIng Romance of the Lady Of
 HIsthetic Tastes.
 "E ho cou.I resist adoring him!' Bea- trice thought as she gazed on his far-away- looking eyes, his poetically long, wavy hair, and his, as she called it, "Raphaellike'' face. Then, too, his name was so full of romantic suggestion - Francisco Wolfe Browne.
 To be sure, her brother, who was always teasing, insisted upon it that formerly the name was Frank w. Brown, and that the hyphen and other accessories, the long hair and imitation of Irving expression first ap- peared on his return from abroad.
 Beatrice, or, as her brother would insist upon calling her, Bet, notwithstanding that she possessed q remarkably good constitu- tion and the attractiveness which generally accompanies it, had uncomfortable thirst for romance; and this aesthetic poet ical youth impressed her like an unopened volume of ancient legends in most fasci- hating binding.
 She was well content to play lawn tennis, and row and ride with her brother and his friend Bob in the mornings, but what rest ill the afternoons when Francisco called, to wander with him through the spring garden discussing ancient chivalry, reading modern poets, and looking for roses without thorns! And then his singing of old love songs!
 To be sure his voice was not strong, but such feeling always feeling for tho high notes which are beyond his grasp" her brother sad; he also added a criticism on the singer, to the effect that it was a good voice for calling chicllens Beatrice's only regret was that he accompanied himself on the banjo it would have been so much more aacf tp ha 1ipb the Spanish mandolin.
 During the sum mmer Francisco sailed for foreign shores to seek inspiration among the artistic ruins for his idyllic poem But frequent letters kept up the interest in Beatrice's sentimental mind.
 To be sure, Bob was always around, wear ing her out with his practical ideas and prosaic views; but then he was so conven- tent as an escort to social festivities that he had to be tolerated, and, after all, ,admira- tion is enjoyable even from an "every-day young man."
 Mir. Francisco Wolfe-Browne returned with the birds in the spring, and Beatrice's afternoons were again the bright spots in her romantic calendar.
 One day, just as the setting sun was con- cealing itself in varied vestment of yer million vapor, and from the slvery stream came stealthily creeping up the malaria
 
 pink fingers in his fervid grasp, and i'll sub lime language poured out his tale of un- quenchable love.
 Now, Beatrice mi ght then and there have settled hls fate, but her romantic nature could not be curbed. To have murmured "yes" right on the spot would have been entirely too rrosaic; so, gracefully, half-re- luctantly gathering herself together, she whispered that in the morning his answer he should find in the hollow tree.
 Now it so happened that there was no hollow tree on the place, and Beatrice knew it perfectly well, but she hoped against hope that she might discover one; and that night after inditing favorable reply bub- bling with poetical cffusions, she vainly sought for some gnarled and knotted oak. But their modem three acres contained nothing but painfully young and upright trees, and at last, ill a fit of despair, she re- solved to utilize an old tin watering can which hung on a branch of a convenient sapling; so after some manipulation and maneuvering, with the aid of garden bench and box, her love-letter was depos- tied.
 How endless the night seemed! How eagerly she longed to hear the music of a light guitar and a silvery voice singing a touching melody;under her lattlced window 1
 As for Francisco, he was otherwise en- gagged, keeping an appointment with chill, and in the quiet seclusion of his cheerful chamber be was busily shaking.
 It rather detracted from the romance of the affair to be compelled, the next morn ing, to go herself and point out the location of the concealed missive.
 All, however, would have doubtless passNl off serenely but for the fact that she had been espied by her brother while depos- iting the letter, and he afterward, in qulet, transformations way, innocently arranged things so that when Francisco, after climb ing upon the boxes, proceeded to reach for the can, his crane-like neck received a large gallon of the wettest kind of water. Unfortunately, Beatrice, being human, could not entirely repress slight smile at the peculiar appearance Mr. Wolfe Browne presented on gathering himself up out of the mud. This might have passed un- noticed in the excitement; but when her | horrld brother put in an appearance, and commented on the fact that it was April 1st, this was too much for Francisco, and with a look of concentrated wetness he stalked into the dim future.
 Weeks passed. MT. Francisco Wolfe Browne no more appeared, while Beatrice's g misery made her supremely happy. Here was real romance! She knew they loved | each other devotedly, but true love always did run roughly, and this arrangement was l simply proof of their affection. To be | sure, she was not deserted; her brothers l friend Bob was always at hand for tennis, | riding, or to take her canoeing in search o1 sketchable spots, while rumor reached her | ears that Francisco was touching the light banjo at the feet of another shrine; and the l summer birds and the new-mown hay filled | the air with song and perfume. | i She had no doubt that Francisco's misery was equal to her own, and that simply out
 of sheer pique he was pretending to interest
 himself in another divinity.
 : But what q contrast to his finely strung | poetical temperament was the matter-of
 fact, almost jarring, practical mind of Bob | And how she disliked that name Bob! (His
 real name was Roberto, but he obstinately | refused to answer to ill