Iowa County democrat. [volume] (Mineral Point, Wis.) 1877-1938, 1895-01-10

and full Of more unspoken poetry than
the world dreams of.
1t Is a melancholy time for the
forsaken or scorned swain, who cocks
his felt hat in vain, and whose bunch
of carnation or hollyhock, jaundly
stuck in his hat band, avails him moth
ing in the eyes of the cruel fair. 1t
was the hour when Charles Judkins
misplaced passion gave him the most
exquisite pangs; an hour which he
usually spent in solitary brooding,
chiefly by the brookside, where he was
wont to lean on certain stile, shaded
appropriately by willows, and pore
upon the brock that babbled by" just
like the unfortunate youth in Grays
"Elegy." And let no prosaic child of
culture, who has outlived the young
days when there was nothing so sweet
as the misery of crossed love, think
scorn Of our friend, or laugh at true
love because it wears livery and top
boots. A garD more antipathetic to
romance than that of spruce grooms
livery scarcely exists, but it could not
kill the romance in Charlie Judkins
honest breast. He was dreaming Of
what might have been hut for the sin
of one bad man.
pretty cottage filed his minds
eye, a cottage with Il porch and honey
suckle and roses, standing In gar
den, not too far from the Swaynestone
stables, with bee-hiyes and flowers,
and fruit, and vegetables, all grown
by himself in leisure hours. lie pitt-
ured to himself the neat parlut, with q
clock, sofa, and carpet. In low
chair, by the window or fire according
TO season, he saw Il beautiful woman,
with rich, dark eyes which frightened
ut his step, and damask cheeks which
took deeper glow ut his return.
There she would be with her needle,
busy, happy, honored, loving, and
loved.
Charles eyes clouded with tears
so that the vision vanished, and only
the brown brook, with Its imprisoned
sunbeams met his sorrowful gaze. But
the Melbourne bells pealed drowsily
on, as he had so often dreamed they
should issue from the familiar porch,
would peal for MS wedding, when he
the proudest and happieyt Of men, with
Alma-dear Alma-in all her rich beau
ty, on his arm.
He turned hastily away, dashing the
foolish moisture from lis honest blue
eyes, and struck aimle Ssly along the
footpath, thinking how her life, sorely
awry as 1t was, might yet be put
straight, "If could only see her
happy and respected AGAIN. was his
thought as he strobe along, consumed
by no selfish grief. Presently he
stopped at gate, half ovcrgrown with
brier and hawthorn. and saw a sight
which filled him with the tendereSt
emotion.
On the other side of the brook, in a
grassy corner between Il coppice and
field Of ripe wheat which rose up
ward from the banks of the little
stream. was Alma herself, sitting on
felled tree, and watching 1.-THE play
of Il child at her feet on the grass
Her shawl and bonnet We're thrown
aside, and her plain, well-1ittng, black
dress showed her beautiful form to the
best advantage. There as now n stat
ueSque majesty about her which
matched we'll with the tragedy never
absent from her proud, defiant eyes
That habitual expression which goes
so far toward making up the identity
of human being was so changed In
lpnn aud bnIs fnn "a Sl11I1l1
ened by her terrible experiences OF life,
that to any eye but that Of love she
was no longer the same girl aS she
who had ridden home in the gray Win
ter cleaning, happy and Innocent, to
the rustic music of the wagon-bells.
The dark green of the coppice and
the deep gold Of the corn rising behind
her gave her a picturesque back
ground. while the beautiful boy play
ing IN the grass ut her feet made such
foreground rs any artist must have
loved The child was dressed daintily
in white, with blue ribbons, and with
wrcaths of pink convolvuluS wound
about him. Alma had placed Il bunch
of scarlet peoples in her own dress TO
ullIutl HIS tNt, anu was iV'NihS ~
him with q mournful, impassioned
gaze, while he held up Il tiny finger
and bid her bark to the music of the
wedding-bells which were ringing to
honor the return of Cyril Maitland and
his young bride to England and to
Malbourne where they arrived only
the might before.
Two springs had scattered flowers
on Ben Lees untimely grave in NAL
bourne church-yard. two summers had
thrown their golden glory upon 1t, and
the months which softened the hard
letters on his maidstone, and braided
the turfy mound above him with
moSscS, had strengthened and devel-
oped the round limbs and brought In
telligcnce 20 the bright eyes of the
second Rem Lee. whose innocent life
began so dolorously where his grand
fathers had ended tragically.
1t pleased Alma TO fancy rcSem
hlauces to her father in the infants