Crawford avalanche. (Grayling, Mich.) 1879-19??, 1892-10-20

Well, my young man, II win call him
mine for the prcsent-to 60 back TO my
narrative, first attracted me by his walk,
next by his fine appearance, and last,
though not least, by an eager look OF ex-
pectancy that dnwned on his face as he
hurried along the opposite sidewalk each
afternoon. often wondered at the cause
OF his emotion, for he quickencd his
pace as he reached my window, as II
anxious TO meet some one without the
range Of my vision.
Though fast getting well, my lumbago
had crippled me somewhat, and prud-
cnce still kept me prisoner in my easy
chair, so could not just then crafty my
curiosity by walking TO the further win
dow to find out what pleasure awaited my
clerical friend on the corner beyond. But
| seized my opportunity as soon as /
could limp about the room, and at last
discovered the mystery. 1t was, as /
thought, woman, a very youthful and
pretty one at that, and both she and my
young man seemed so completely abb
sorbed in each other that abandoned my
claim on the instant, and bringing my
hero down from the clouds where had
set him, | sighed to think him only
human after all.
A romance was brewing. / was sure
of that, to judge by these meetings,
which were of daily occurrence, and of
deep interest to at least three persons in
this busy world. the fair Helen--for so
had christened her; the ardent Paris
An inappropriate title, but it served
my purpose; and my insignificant self.
At A o'clock precisely Helen and l
began our watch, she at her street cor
ner, at my window. After about ten
or fifteen minutes Paris joined his sweet
heart, and together they walked briskly
up the street.
had grasped the whole story with
that species of feminine wit which our
admirers call divination.
Helen was an heiress--one could see
at a glance she was rich by the unobtru-
sive elegance Of her dress, and she loved
Paris against the wishes of her family
and friends, else why those clandestine
meetings on the corner2
Her people, no doubt, favored a match
of more worldly pretcnsions, but Helen
was evidently determined to be true to
Paris, wherein she differed from the
Trojan Helen, whose shining virtue was
not faithfulness. Thus far | gave her
my grudging approval, but saw great
deal TO displease me in that young per-
sons unconventional behavior.
She did nothing culpable as far as pro-
priety was concerned, but there was a
certain dependence in her manner to-
wards him. So open, so patent to the
casual observer, that / felt like shaking
her for exposing her private emotions on
public thoroughfarc. She should have
been dcmure, and should have carried
her hands meekly in her muff, instead of
folding them carelessly over the black
coat sleeve. She should not have taken
his arm in broad daylight even if they
were engaged. / can find great many
excuses for young people, remembering
my own youth very plainly, but above all
they should be proper. Most likely the
young man was more to blame, but in my
eyes he was all that could be desired.
mistrusted the girl, and decided after
weeks careful observation that she was
coquctte. highly disapproved of the
match which began to look inevitable,
and resolved if l could help it, Paris
should not be caught by the subtle
witchery of pretty face.
was, indeed, thankful when my pro-
baton was over, and l went for gentle
walk each day. Generally / timed my
little excursions so that might meet
Helen and Paris as they sauntered along.
must own that my opinion of the young
lady was considerably modified when l
met her face to face. There was no CO.
quetry in the depth of those gray eyes,
nor in the tender curves of her mouth,
and / certainly know II / had been a
man / should have fallen in love with
just such dear little graceful Great
ure.
She looked mere atom compared with
the stalwart Paris, but to Judge from his
rapt expression one would have thought
the whole world was embodied in the
being who walked beside him.
| cnntrived to meet them frequently,
and must confess was growing impa-
tient over their lengthy courtship. My
cannot brook delay. II anything is to
be done-I feel like Macbeth-''twere
we'll 'twere done quickly" But then it
takes many people to make world,
and all l could do was to bide in pa
thence, and let those lovers take their
time.
At length, one day, was rewarded.
Passing by the interesting couple with
that studied look Of pre-occupation
which had learned to assume, / heard
the young man say to his companion:
"Well, dear, why not do it at once2
There is danger in delay"
The girl laughed nervously,
thought, but made no reply, and l heard
Paris say:
at is only few steps now to
the parsonage. 1t is best to get it
over. We can take the o'clock
train"
/ wondered if they detected anything
unusual in my manner as l brushed by
them at this juncture, for was stirred
to the highest pitch of excitement, and
when their backs were turned upon me
halted to collect my scattered senses.
The lovers were about to elope in broad
daylight. They were on their way to
the parsonage, which nestled in the
shelter of the big church close by, un-
conscious that third person was in pos
session of their secret.
stood for some moments uncertain
how to act; indeed, it was not my bust
ness to act at all; knew that very well
if love chose to laugh ut bolts and bars it
vas surely no affair of mine. Neverthe-
ess was interested in these young peo-
Il