The Roanoke times. [volume] (Roanoke, Va.) 1890-1895, 1893-12-13
. MATT, /"
4 TALE OF a CARAVAN.
BY RosERr BUCHANAN.
4 TALE OF a CARAVAN.
By RosERr BUCHANAN.
Continued from last SundayD
CHA 'Vr:,. vi
MATT GROWS MArNlMoNiAL

throuS ilout them All moved like pre-
siding fairy Matt of Aberglyn Some
times he was wandering on stormy
shores, watching the wrecks of mighty
argosies; again he was in mysterious
cayerns underneath the ground search
Ing for and finding buried treasure;
still again he was standing on the
decks of storm-tosscd vessels. while
the breakers thuntlcrcd close at hand
and the bale-frcS burned on lonely
headlands. But ut all times and in all
places Matt was his companion.
And, curiously enough, Matt in his
dream was very different to the Matt
of waking reality: taller and brighter
in fact, as beautiful as vision can
be; so that his spirit was full of
strange sensation of love and pity, and
the touch of the warm little hand dis
turbed his spirit with mysterious joy.
So vivid did this foolish dream become
at last that he found himself seated
on sunny rock by the sea by MATHS
side; and he was talking to her like a
lover, with his arm around her waist.
and she turned to him, with her great
eyes fixed on his, and kissed him over
and over again so passionately that
he awoke
1t was blowing hard, and the rain
was pelting furiously on the roof OF
the caravan. He tried to go to sleep
again, but the face of Matt las he had
seen it in his dreamy kept him for a
long time awake.
Now, young man. he said to him
self this is idiotic. In the first place,
Matt is a child, not a young woman;
in the second place, she is vulgar
little thing, not Il young lady; in the
third place, you ought to be ashamed
OF yourself for thinking of sentiment
at all in such connection. Is your
brain softening, youngster? or are
you laboring under the maign infiu-
ence of William Jones? The kiss you
gave to this unsophisticated daughter
OF the desert was paternal, or say,
AMIGA BILE; it was very nice kiss, but
1T has no right to make you dream of
stuff and nonsense"
But the influence of the dream was
over him, and in that half sleeping,
half waking state, he felt like boy in
love. He found himself calculating
the age of his own friend. Let him
see! 1t was fifteen years since, in her
own figurative expression, she come
ashore" and the question remained:
How old was she on that interesting
occasion? AS far as he could make out
from her appearance she could not be
more than sixteen. For damscl of
that age her kiss was decidedly pre-
cocious.
At last be tumbled off ngain and
dreamed that Native a young lady of
beautiful attire and captivating man
ners, to whom he was engaged" and
her speech, strange to say, was quite
poetical and refned and they walked
together, hand in hand, to a country
church on green hillside, and were
just going to enter when who should
appear upon the threshold but Mr..
Monk, of Monl1shurst? But they uassed
him by and stood before the altar
where the parson stood in his white
robes, and when the parson asked aloud
whether anyone saw:any just reason
or impeachment that the pair should not
be joined in holy matrimony the same
Monk stepped forward, with a Mcphis
tophelian smile, and cried: Eyes, |
do!' On which the Young man awolze
again in agitation, to find that it was
broad daylight and fine. fresh sum
mer morning
Whom should ne find waiting for him
when he had dressed himself and
stepped from the house on wheels but
Matt herself? Yes. there she was. as
wild and quantity attircd MS ever. quite
unlike the ethereal individual of his
dreams; bmt for all that her smile was
like sunshine and her eyes as roguish
and friendly as ever
Conscious of his dream he blushcd,
While greeting her witha friendly nod
We'll, Matt? Here again, ch?" he
said; adding to himself: This won't
do at all, NY gentleman: if the Young
person continues TO appear daily, the
caravan will have 10 move on"
Matt had evidently something on her
mind After looking art Brinkley
thoughtfnlly for some minutes. she cx-
claimed. abruptly:
william Jones don't like YOU. Meth
er. No more does William Jones
father"
Dear me-" said the Young mau,
"I'm vecy sorry for that
"He says William Jones saws
you're come here prying and spying.
Do you?'
MY dextr Matt" replied the Young
man, lightly, II come here as humble
artist, seeking subjects for my surpass-
ing genius0Go work upon. If it is prv-
ing and spyiog to attempt to penetrate
into the beauties of natnre-bo4h
scenic, animal and human-i fear
must plead guilty; but otherwise"
She interrupted him with an I'M
patient exclamation, accompanied by
q hitch of her pretty shoulders.
Don't talk like that; for then know
n 10