Clinch Valley news. [volume] (Jeffersonville, Va.) 18??-2019, 1894-02-23

q, ShSihO DcSun TO
labor, and by the time the last car had
reached tho end of that vast JERSEY
City shed the train was at full speed.
bearing its precious freight saw
precious because every one had n full
pocket-book, and necessarily soto
the Worlds Fair.
Unlike most men, travel without
either silk skull-cap, smoking
Jacket, buster, or pair of home
made slippers, for my street clothes
and etceteras are comfortable enough.
and even if they were positive torture,
al-possessing vanity forbids that /
should make an uncomely spectacle of
my earefully-adorned person, MS some
careless of-appearance sybarites are
wont to do in their journeyings. So.
without wasting time in getting into
deshabille, sank into the unoccupied
seat and viewed the passing landscape
until my head began to ache. Then I
turned my attention, not to q book,
but to my fellow-passengers.
Sitting directly opposite me was n
girl. One glance was enough to tell
Inc that she was divine in features.
form and dress. OF course, having
glanced once I glanced again, and at
the second glance thought detected
something familiar about her. Where
had I seen her? The third glance
solved the question.
Five years ago, when twenty-one. I
spent the summer at Richfield. and
there met Margie Fenton. Margie was
fair, with laughing eyes. cherry lips,
and figure of willowy grace. Margie.
too, was rich-or, at least, her father
was. Can you blame me for falling in
love with her?
AN, what summer we spentl Rides,
drives, dances, dinners, luncheons,
tennis, moonlight rambles, and best of
all, long talks in dark corners where
hands were clasped md vows of eternal
love were exchanged. And SO we lived
in elysinm; the pleasures of each day
married only by regret that its passage
brought the season nearer to its close.
September 25th was the day set by
the rFentons for their departure. 1
had to stay longer because my mother.
supreme in her ownership of the pocket
book, SO wished. Shall ever FORGET
the day? The train left in the early
forenoon, and with it went the sun
shine of my life, leaving me inconsol-
able. My only comfort was in writ
ing letters. This did at the rate of
five day for one week; but as Mar.
gle wrote only seven in that time. /.
fearing that I would annoy her.
dropped to the same number. We
kept it up for two months. Then she
began to skip day now and then, and
SO did I. After little her ardor was
represented by only two letters a.
week; mine by the same number.
This rate was. continued for about six
months, when all of n sudden she
stopped entirely, and did likewise.
Thus ended the same old story.
However, her eyes, her lips and her
figure had remained fresh in my mem
Dry. CHANGING once more at her across
the way felt almost certain that she
was Margie Fcnton. Therewas slight
change in her figure, to be sure. She
had grown more plump, as healthy
girls are apt to do rs the years go on I:
her hair, too, was probably degree
lighter, but that often happens with
the druggists aid. But the ose, the
eyes, tho mouth, I could not be mis-
taken in them. "Yet, if it is she why
doesn't she recognize me?" asked
myself ''Surely she doesn't blame