Abilene weekly reflector. [volume] (Abilene, Kan.) 1888-1935, 1890-09-11

'IHAyE OTHER FISH TO FRY"
I had done, and putting her hand in
mine said:
"'Why, Tom, don't you know l have
loved you always?
And, boy-but why am telling you
all this? You wanted to know why l
went West Well, as l told you, L was
a hot-headcd, quick-tempered fool, and,
though it seems to me now that Alice
did every thing that sensible man
would have been satisfied with, used
then to be very exacting, and was often
vexed with her She was bright, and
cheerful, and happy, and used to treat
my high and mighty humOrs with the
liehtness they deserved. Finally one
day shall never forget i'll had been
to sec Alice in the morning. and, with
my usual foolhardiness, had been CEN
surfing her for dancing so much the
night before with Henry Wentworth,
your banker In town, you know. 1t
seemed to me she had taken my strict
-ures a.littlc more defiantly than usual;
at all events, l went off feeling very
angry.
but, as is always tho case with hot
headed fools, l cooled off very quickly.
Alice had always been so ready to for
give me that it was with no hesitancy
that went out that afternoon to take
her for drive. / found her with her
hat upon her head, standing on the gal
lery pulling some roses. They were
yellow, 1 remember, and very sweet
Come, Alice, / said, 'Selim is in excel
lent trim; let us take q drive out the
Greensboro pike
81 am very sorry, Tom,' she said,
but can not go with you this after
noon
'Sho stopped breaking the flowers as
she spoke and looked at me half shyly
from under her lashes.
"'Why not, pray?' l asked, firing up
in moment l fancied there was some
thing teasing in her tone.
81 have other fish to fry she said,
simply.
Il shall never forget how she looked
as she stood there twirling the yellow
rose in her hand and bending down her
head till her little chin rested upon her
bare, white throat Somehow a yellow
rose always brings back that picture to
me. l remember my first impulse was
to take her in my arms and beg her to
forgive me, but ere moved or spoke
heard the sound of wheels on the gravel
without, and, turning, / saw young
Wentworth drive up. Without word
turned and left the house. As L en-
tered the village met little band of
troops starting for the Mexican war. In
q moment was out and had enlisted.
We left that night. l was accountable
to no one for my actions, and no one
knew of my whereabouts.
What l suffered in the war it m 1T
tiers not. That cash across the little
case you have shows how near 1 came
being pricl1ed by a Mexican sword.
When my term of enlistment was out
was more than willing to return home,
and lost no time in doing so. AS left
the train and walked up the village
street 1 saw funeral procession just
turning the brow of the hill. Henry
Wentworth and his young wife were
getting in the carriage as passed the
gate. He had married, he told me, the
week after 1 left girl from the South.
They both seemed very sad and in .
hurry to be gone.
"'Whose is the funeral?' asked, as
turned to go.
"'Alice's, he answered.
MY God! 1t was my Alice, and had
gone and left her."
The old man pressed his head upon
his hands and tho tears trickled down
his sunken checks. Bob did not speak;
his face was hidden too.
after that" the old man said, by and
by, 81 spent the next twenty-five years
of my life in prowling about the West,
and it was only when 1 became an old
man, when had nothing left but Alice's
grave over there on the hillside, that /
came back home to rest. But here am
l." he said, with sudden start, 'keep-
ing you up listening to my chatter,
when you ought to be in bed, getting
ready for your trip tomorrow.
The young man sprang to his feet
"Just one o'clock" he said. II can yet
catch the 1:3o train to town. l shall
not 60 West at all, Cousin Tom, and If
my Alice will forgive me you may come
to our wedding next month. "-Patience
Oriel, in Philadelphia Times