Smyrna times., 1892-03-23

these self-destrOyeTs, and their stories
are so human that | have written them
up. They end sadly. If l were to
end them otherwise my writing would
be false. But there are stacks of
happy stories to read. Yes, and to
write, too"
"Then why did you not end "A Pas
sing Acquaintance 5appily? Why did
you not make them meet again ?"
Because" he replied, Just such
separations are common in real life.
Did you ever count the people whom
you have met, and whom you never
expect to meet again? The long list
will surprise you. Those persons in
A Passing Acquaintance never met
again, for the same varied reasons that
you will never again meet the people
on your list"
After that the conversation became
very personal indeed and continued
so until they joined the family in the
parlor.
Early in the morning Rushmore was
awakened by Mr.. Hartington's hearty
voice giving directions to the gardener
on the lawn. A little later the writer
came down and found Rose fitting
from bush to bush clipping roses.
Miss Harrington gets up early and
is, therefore ambitious" he said.
Yes I'm ambitious" she asserted.
But not because 1 get up early. /
once heard DR.. Talmage say that it's
not when we get up, but what we do
after we are up Isn't it beautiful
morning 2"
Beautiful" he said. "And it is lust
as beautiful in the city. But somehow
it is beautiful there in a different way.
1t is artiicially beautiful. Artificiality
turks in the very sunlight-as though
supplied Oh the New York steam heat
ing plan. But out here it is all so nat
ural. In the country find God every
where / feel closer to him than in the
city, don't you ?"
They talked on in this way until she
had gathered all the roses she could
carry. Then Mr.. Harrington hustled
up with his jOvial good nature, and
sang out:
Come, lads and lasses! Breakfast at
8: Train at 9. Sleep well, Rushmore?
My! what roses :"
Rose held them up for him to take
their perfume, but he pushed them
away, saying: mo these are the roses
for me-" And he kissed her cheeks
and carried her eff to breakfast.
The girls often walk with their faith
er to the station. This morning Nav
hurried of with Mr.. Harrington. leav-
ing Rose to follow with Mr.. Rush
more.
Down the long level avenue cano-
pied over with naples they walked
slowly and silently. Neither had
thought seriously of separation till
now. They looked at each other. A
long lingering look. What a world of
meaning, and mutual understanding it
conveyed 1t seemed to them as if
they had said in unison: I'VE love
each other"
And then as if the words had actu-
ally been spoken, each vowed inwardlv
to remain true to the other. His inner
voice said II shall always love this
woman. -Four years are an eternity:
out will return and ask her to be nv
wife"
Her inner voice said Il shall always
love this man."
Oh there was so much to say; and
yet they could say nothing. Small
talk was out of the question. And
then the train pulled in sight.
We must hurry Be uuick!" she
urged. In the the hurry he caught her
hand in his strong, warm grasp till
they reached the platform. The train
was coming to a stop. Mr.. Harting-
ton, who with May, stood waiting at
the end of the platform, cried Rush
more, there. l have tickets. Shall
we take the smOkerP Goodbye, girls''
lie boarded the train as Rushmore was
saying goodbye to May. whose atten-
ton was Immediately demanded by
other hurrying passengers.
RushmOre then turned to Rose.
"Au re voirl' he said. 1t seemed non
sense to say more. The conductor
called: ''All aboard ~
"Till when ?" she asked.
-Four years )" he replied.
He grasped both her hands, their
eyes met, one last lingering look and
he was gone.
Gone forever? Perhaps. Did one
ever think of the other merely as n
passing acquaintance No, not ex-
actly. Did they ever forget that
August evening in the Garden City?
That mutual understanding? That
harmony of hearts? That unuttered
love? Those silent vows? No not
exactly; and yet at the end of four
years Jack RushmOre was the husband
of an Australian, and Rose Harrington
the wife of Philadelphian. Is it not
so in real life? gibson WILLETs.
-YOnkerS Statesman.
/