The Abbeville press and banner. [volume] (Abbeville, S.C.) 1869-1924, 1889-07-03
DENNY'S LUCK,
BY WILLIAM G.. PATTEN.

Dennis Lowry was his name, but every
one who knew him called him Denny.
He was tall, rather good-looking, yet
slouchy-appearing young fellow of twen-
ty-two or three. He had always lived in
the sleepy little country village of New
ton and every one for miles around knew
him. He was called lazy and shiftless,
and it was true that he had never excited
himself a great deal to prove the charge
false. He was inclined to lay his poor
circumstances to luck. Worse than
being born poor, he had been unlucky.
This was what he told himself, but peo-
pie who knew him, averred that he had
never made any. vigorous attempt to
change his luck. Denny was dreamer.
It was his delight to wander away through
the woods or fields, and to lay all akone
amid the sweet-scented grass and watch
the clouds as they sailea along above, or
to follow the swift flight of the swallows
as they circle& and whirled at dizzy
heights. He would lie thus for hours
with his mind filled with wild fancies of
tha future when his luck had changed.
Denny had poets soul, but lacked a
poets power of expression.
Denny and Inza Porter grew up to-
gether. They were playmates while chill
dren, and their friendship seemed to
grow stronger as they became older.
Denny was so kind and gentle that he
seemed much like girl himself. Inza
was little, dark-eyed, red-ipped witch,
whose very soul seemed always a-bubble
with mirth. She was unlike Denny in
many respects, yet something seemed to
bind them together.
Denny never knew when he began to
love Inza. 1t seemed to him that he had
loved her always. She seemed part of
bis life, and his dreams by night and by
day were colored by her presence. And
so the days became weeks, the weeks
months, and the months years, still
Denny was the same shiftless, dreaming,
unlucky fellow.
One night they wandered away across
the fields to an old moss-covered wall,
where they stopped to watch the sunset.
Inza sat down upon fiat stone and Denny
flung himself at her feet. The sun had
just sunk behind the western hills, but
the purple and gray clouds were painted
with the various colors of damask, crimson
and molten gold. A rich purple haze
hung about the distant hills, and stretched
down over the woodlands, growing
fainter and fainter as the distance became
less. A little stream wound through the
hollow at their feet, from the farther side
of which came the plaintive bleat of
lamb. A slowly circling crow shouted
ho4rsely from away in distant wood.
For several moments they sat there en-
raptured at the beautiful scene. Finally
Inza spoke:
"Isn't it beautiful, Dcnny9" she
breathed.
He drew a long breath as though
sweet spell had been broken, and his eyes
sought hers.
Beautiful" he whispered, in a soul
thrilling way. "Yet the word does not
express it. Painter or poet cannot repro
duce the beauty, the peace, the love of
God there is in such scene"
"Denny," said Inza, in sudden convic-
ton, 'you should have been poet; you
have poets SOUL"
81 know it, he replied, touch of bit
terness in his voice; "but cannot put
my thoughts on paper. have tried Inza,
but I cannot express hundredth part of
what there is within me. 1t is my luck
TO be thus unfortunate"
For long time after this they did not
speak, but feasted their eyes on the scene
before them. Finally Denny took Inza's
hand, and gazing into her dark eyes, said
earnestly:
"Inza, I love you. You know this
already. We have grown up together,
and our affection for each other has been
no secret. yet now 1 wish to tell you that
it is not merely as a friend that I love
you, but I want you for my wife. Will
you marry meN
INA was startlhl.
2aany,n cried She .SSnA surprise me!