Reporter and farmer. [volume] (Webster, Day County, Dakota [S.D.]) 188?-1946, 1894-10-04
seemed as natural as song is 70 the

coguetry that not even the solemnity
OF the occasion could subdue, and Gen.
ma, with downcast eyes aud crave,
sweet lips, parted In the melodious
chrnt in which she Joined, and no
tho ught In her heart a v OF the words
she sang, as the procession wound its
way through the waving wheat and un-
der the boughs where the red cherries
shone in the monday sunlight.
A man lying laZily under the shade
OF the wayside trees looked up with
indolcnt amusement Is the procession
went slowly by. 1t CHANGED that Mia,
walking outside Md IN the road near
to him, looked also, half-curfously, half
shyly, at the strange face. He met her
glance and returned 1t with one of bold
admiration that sent the rich hot color
to her cheeks, and brought the heavy
l~ong-lashed eyeiids down to W. the
glorious eyes. Then she passed on.
The strangers glance followed her
with something OF interest and sur
prise; then he hastily drew out a
sketch book and dashed in with bold,
rapid strokes that long, white, winding
line. the dark background of hills, and
the face that met his eyes a minute be-
fore.
An impatient exclamation escaped
him: Il can't do 1t from memory" he
muttered. Shall I see her again, l
woI derY"
His eyes turned longingly after the
distant proce ssion with Its waving BAN
ners cleaning in the clear, bright air,
and the rich full melody OF that glor-
ious chant rolling in sonorous echoes
over the hills around.
"Sure to-" he continued, followed up
his thought. "She lives about here
doubtless. 7 must sketch her from life.
Her face is perfect. 1t is just the face
/ want, too"
Then he rose, put away paper and
pencils and slowly sauntered down the
hot, stony road, and keeping the pro-
cession still in view. entered the town
whithe: 1t was going to finish the cele-
grafton Ii the little church OF the Mis-
ericordia.
A little dusky, old world, half-forgot-
ten town il was, with nothing of note
save n few churches and an arched
bridge or two, and an ancient carved
gateway some hundred years old. and
narrow, ill-paved streets, and quaint
tumble down houses, picturesque
enough to painters and artists, but
models of dirt and discomfort in them
selves.
The man was a painter and had come
from Rome. He was not n very great
or celebrated artist, being poor aid Of
humble birth, but full Of great ambi-
ton. and with an Impotence Of tongue
and manner that had often marred his
success. He had come here TO gather
subjects for a picture on which he was
then occupied, and the intense quiet,
and dreamy hush Of the quaint old town
and the beauty of the country
around had charmed him SO that he
had stayed on from week to week,
much longer than he had intended.
AS he strolled along his thoughts
were still busy with that scene. ut
would make a good subject" he pom
dered. 'sThese beautiful cypress-crown-
ed hills. that long winding, snowy line,
with the colors OF the priests vest
ments, and the gold fringe Of the wav-
ing banners. and above all, that in
tense blue sky; and then the pure saint
like face of the one girl and the lovely,
glowing beauty, and great, astonished
eyes of the other. as she looked up from
the book. Oh, yes, it would do well;
and nothing p~leases people SO much as
to see in q picture or a stage repre-
%sentation the very scenes which, IL
they did but open their eyes, they
would see q thousand times over In
every day life-set in their very midst.
II is a strange age-truly."
Later on he entered the old gray
church. where the people were throng-
ing in crowds. and the sound Of the
tinkling Of the tiny bells came out over
the bowed heads and kneeling figures
on the steps and IN the streets.
He did not quite know why he enter
ed-some impulse, for which he could
not account, prompted him-but as he
pushed his way through the throng he
saw close beside him the maiden who
had attracted his notice in the process
sion. His eager Eyes fastened on her,
almost compelling her own to meet
them by that magnetic force which lies
in a long, fixed gaze. She blushed even
nose rosily than before. but round the
soft, scarlet mouth q faint smile play
ed. Nita was too used to admiration
to resent IL.
LIN ICIlAIAGu SN,Adc VI
only glancing from time to time at the
dark fringed eyelids, that yelled her
eyes-at the supple, rounded figure in
the first sweet grace Of early %girlhood-
at the flushed warmth of the cheeks
at the arched. pouting lips, and with
every glance becoming more fascinated
with the girls beauty.
At. last the service was over. The
murmur OF prayer and chants Of praise
were silent. The crowds began to dis
perse, well pleased with the festival,
and comforted they scarcely knew why,
by the mere fact Of having heard or
seen II.
The painter Anio stood aside and
watched tie Tuscan maidens pass out.
He saw they We're unaccompanied,
and resolved to keep them in view.
Walking in their rear, he heard tn.
elder say: "Wil you so home now,
Mia. or not"
Homer" was the impetuous rejoin-
der. "No. / am going to Cecco, the
coppersmlth, now. His daughter, Ter
esina, has asked me. VIII you not
come tooT'
Nay, you know / am no friend of
Teresina's Mia. She mas bold ways,
and Is sly Of speech. / do not like her.
/ am sorry Won shOuld 90 there nor do