Sullivan republican. [volume] (Laporte, Pa.) 1883-1896, 1892-12-02

came rushing down
the mountain side, she knew the trees
would bend their tall heads together and
twine their strong arms around her
home, until, robbed of his victim, the
baffled storm rushed by.
When morning broke, the same
friends stood erect and stately, drawing
aside their leaves and branches, that the
sunbeams might not linger in their soft
embraces, but hasten down to awaken
their favorite, Marie.
Very lovely was the little Swiss maid
with violet eyes that now danced and
sparkled and then grew soft and tender
as little child's. Two rose red lips
shut in her pearly teeth, and when she
smiled tiny dlmple danced foi a mo-
ment on her. peachy cheek. Her hal,
clung in caressing curls around her low
white forehead, and fell in ripples OF
golden sunshine far below her slender
waist. And her voice! All! that was
Marie's greatest charm. Soft and clear,
not discordant note marred its sweet,
pure harmony. Sometimes as she sang
at her evening devotions the herdsmen n
far below in the valley, catching faint
notes of her song, looked up and crossed
themselves, half believing they heard
the echo of an ange, choir.
But very few knew of Marie's beauty.
For when she went with her mother on
one OF her rare visits to the hamlet be.
low, she brushed her wavy hair straight
and smooth back from her forehead, and
braided it in long stiff plaits which fell
down her back.
Her eyelids, with their curtains of
long silky lashes, dropped over her dane.
ing eyes until one looked in vain for a
glimpse of their beauty. Her red lips
shut firmly over her pearly teeth, while
the dimple hid itself resolutely away from
sight. And her sweet voice, frightened
at its own sound so far from home, grew
faint and husky, until, in this shrink
ing, sober damsel, walking so timidly
beside the Widow Neur, you would have
found it hard to recognize the beautiful
Marie of the mountain.
So it happened that only her mother
and one other person knew how good
and sweet and how fair Marie was.
This other was stranger who came
from far away country and spent his
summers in little house on the noun
tain's very top.
The simple villagers called him "the
wizard, and told strange tales of how
he spent whole nights gazing at the
heavens through long tube; that he
could foretell to an hour when the sun
would cover itself with darkness; but,
strangest of all, he had little wire
stretched for miles over hills aud valleys
to the great city! This wire talked to
him in queer language which no one
else could understand.
"Vick, tick, tickety tick" it said,
and it told him things that happened
miles and miles away.
Marie did not know how wise the
wizard was when he came to her home
one morning and asked for drink of
water.
He followed her to the spring when
she went for it and stopped by the way
to break open curious stone. He
showed Marie how queerly marked it was
inside, and then tcld her story about it.
The usually timid maiden was SO inter.
ested she forgot to be frightened, and
thus strong friendship between the two
was begun.
After this the wizard often came to
the widows chalet for rest and refresh.
ment on his long rambles, and Marie un-
consciously revealed her charms to him,
one by one, until, long before the first
summer was ended, the stranger knew
that no girl in all the canton could be
compared with Marie.
On the other side of the mountain from
the Widow Neur's home lived another
widow. She, too, had but one child, q
son, who was the pride and delight ol
her life. This was the brave young
hunter and guide Gustavus Friel.
Every one knew and liked Gustavus.
He was tall, straight, and handsome,
with flashing brown eyes, and laugh as
frank as child's; he was the favorite ol
the canton, and there was not gir
within its bounds who would not have
been proud to plight her troth with
him.
Gustavus, however, cared little for tn,