The weekly Thibodaux sentinel and journal of the 8th Senatorial District. [volume] (Thibodaux, Lna. [i.e. La.]) 1875-1898, 1895-03-30
BELLS OF FOLLY.

Miranda ran into the meadow, laugh
ing. The grassy slope shelved down in
to tie valley, where the wood lay black
and still. DafTodiis nodded and cow
slips bowed as she passed CT her way.
\ lark gCt up ard reese, singing to
heaven. She sped cut Of the shadow and
into the sunlight, and the sound OF her
young laughter 1oatcd down the val
ley. Echoes Joined it there, and the lit
tie ravine gErglea with merllflent. Mi
randa stopped, With her chin in the
air, and listened. Was it al the echo
Of her delight, or WAS it something
more? The peal Of her mocEery died III
TO the sonbeT copse, and out OF it, fresh
and clear, Il voice trilled merrily On its
upward way, Miranda stood and wait
ed.
He came up the bank CT wild flowers.
his face bright with the love Of life and
laughter, and at the sight OF her he
paused. The two faced each other for
awhile in silence, and then q smilo ran
round Miranda's lips, and the young
mans eyes sparkled with merriment.
Il took your laughter for a signal"
said he, making bis heaming salutations.
but / reckoned little unon SO charming
an designation"
"It was but a signal of the spring,
sir, says she, with a dainty bow.
May" he replied. 81 make no such
distinctions between the seasons. l
laugh the whole year through. 1t is the
manner of the wise. You will perceive
my jocund hUmor, fair mistress. Be-
lieve me, tits not the whim of an hour
contrived by the guiles Of a spring
morning, but a very settled disposition
of the mind. / am broad based upon
gayety."
"Ah, to be gay!" cried Miranda. etc
be gay is to live
Life is at our feet" said the merry
youth. II take an infinite pleasure in
its complexities. Believe me, nothing
should matter, ave the twinkling of an
eye or the dimplins Of a Cheek
"You are right, said Miranda, smil-
ing. How can one have enough Of
laughter" =
I'VE arc of one mind" he answered
pleasantly. "Let us go into our corne
and be merry together.
why not?" says Miranda. why
not?"
"There are 10, 600 pleasures in this
silly world" he went on, and, for
myself, l have not yet exhausted the
tenth part of them. Count my years,
then, and make threescore and ten the
dividend, and what remains? Pack them
into the hours never SO neatly, and you
will not exhaust the store. And that is
why l ain a spendthrift of pleasures. /
exc not ont my delights. I would burn
20 in a straw hat out of sheer caprice
and toss a dozen to the ducks upon the
lake for pity"
Eyes, yes, agreed Miranda.
"Time," he continued, with fine
scorn, time has discovered us a con-
spiracy of the ages to intbrone this mel
ancholy. But we are no traitors to our
rightful being, you and I, and we will
clap a crown upon the head of laughter.
and lay the usurper by the heels in his
proper dungeon.
He were better there. replied Mi
randa thoughtfuily.
"There is never a care, he resumed,
upon which we may not ~tra,nple, not
4 trouble which We may not forget.
What a fool is he who would nurse his
sorrow and not bury il Ill the deepest
gravel"
What 4 fool.,' murmured Miranda
dreamily.
"Should one lose a fHiend3s A fig for
friendship!'' quoth he. Foes one cast
4 lover: \ snap for i hundred lovers!
What has been remains, and what is
shall be-.
Miranda SAID nothing.
Subtract love from life" said the
young man, and life remains. l would
have the world know that loye is q
pleasant cipher, Il amiaAle and enter
tanning mood, and that life is left when
love is lost. There is 10 love. 1t were
more truly writ in the plural and spell
ed with a small letter.
Miranda turned upon him swiftly.
''Fis! Fie.' said she, and the light
flashed in her eyes. Il know nothing
of this love, but / dare swear there be
things that matter. Take these from
life, and what will rest over? Is there
not sorrow, and is there not pain? Is
@L-"" not remorse, and is there not