Semi-weekly interior journal. [volume] (Stanford, Ky.) 1881-1905, 1892-05-06
KatYdid at Pensacola.
10 the Editor OF the Interior Jouraal.)

the beach, but because OF two who fig
ured in the enjoyment of the sail anC
who stand forth in my dream of it like
Two figures about which lonely land
scape closes. Only our ride was awe.in
spring, darng-grand Not lonely and
yet what is more lonely than the loss OF
land and the hollow tumbling waves
Although it was April time, the morning
was close as July weather in Kentucky
and We were glad when 8 O'Clock
brought the wind ashore. 1t is singu-
lar fact that the winds have regular in
tervals to rove, and woe to those who
are unacquainted with their habits and
are left out at sea, becalmed,
'As silent as painted ship
Upon painted ocean,"
So, after informing ourselves as to the
method OF the winds, We concluded to
take passage upon steam yacht about 3
O'Clock and sail later in the day. Madge,
Mrs. - (who, by the way, is charming
widow just 22) and myself made the trio
that embarked, and there were on board
some laboring men, who were to desert
the yacht at the first landing. We had
seated ourselves, and faced the distance
when there was little connection on
the wharf-a dark, handsome man hur-
ried from among the crowd anc stepped
ON board just as the orders were made
to "let her CO." He came forward and
joined US, hesitatingly, looked to the
right, to the left and then out over the
bay. had fine view OF his face and
figure and fancy began at once to weave
him into, romance. Who was he?
Where did he come from? Was he mar
ried? etc. / said he was dark; he was
only Drowned by the sun aud must have
been very fair for under the brim OF his
hat his forehead was white as a girls.
His eyes were gray, shaded with dark,
curling lashes, hair very dark, nose
straight and slender and his moustache
had sweep that aged his face about 30
years, / thought. Occasionally, when
he would smoothe his moustache, l
co1ld see the curve OF his lips. The lit
tie yacht sailed along. The waters ruff
fled around us, tapping over the edge OF
the boat and envelopiDg us in misty
shower at intervals. Then they smooth
ed out into an amethistiue field and to
the left, and beyond, lay pale green pas
lures. Think OF it-a pale green fluid
pasture! One OF the party said some
thing about Kentucky and the stranger
was no longer stranger. He had come
down on a hunt and had left his COM
rades that morning for days sail. He
talked easily and was natural, but at |
times deep melancholy settled in his /
handsome eyes. Fate was handling us
and as the barge made a turn the sun
streamed down upon the little widow
and our hero suggested that she come
over to the shade, and moved, making
room for her beside himself. And soon
the waves began a rolling motion, and
soon the sea seemed turning, and soon
Madge and sought our pillows in the
little cabin. But the two talked on out
upon the deck. Sounds like a story,
doesn't it? But, honor bright, it is ev-
cry word TRUTH heard him say
about the loneliness of the
sea OF life at BEST and that he had join
ed the hunting party solely to get away
from self, but that his wretchedness fac
ed him everywhere. Then came the
story OF love, the altar, sickness, a wreck
ed mind, the asylum and death. And .
all through the story the waves sobbed,
and could hear the murmur OF soft
voice, intoned with sympathy, mingling
with that OF the speakers.
We landed at Fort Monroe and CROPPED
about the shadowy ruins and then out
upon the Gulf beach. The breakers
were bringing up the shells and We spent
an hour in gathering them. 1t was such
a delight to reach our parasols far out :.
into billow and fish up different shell :
from those strewn about us, and it was
simply distracting 10 see our nero step
ping into the breakers and claiming so
many trophies for Mrs. BIS basket. 1t
was hardly fair Why couldn't the rest
If us have had hero that day? The sky .
was blue and broad enough to have let
Town more than one, it seemed. But, =,
hen, have the recollection OF them and
hat is something. | know | shall never
orget the picture the lar, blue Gulf t
eyeling into space, wrinkling itself
nearer and turning up its foamy edge L
against them-the long, long beach |
into distance this way and r
hat, its sparkle, the white spiders that
an in armies before us and dug their I
,wn graves in the sand, the splatter OF e
he water where the mackerel played, b
nd even the broken pieces OF timber Q