Frostburg mining journal. [volume] (Frostburg, Md.) 1871-1913, 1895-08-03
FIRST LOVE.

have for years led rowing life and
am most at home in railway carriages,
waiting rooms, hotels and restaurants.
On this account my reading has been of
all kinds, and 1 have given up wishing
to be dainty i'll my literary diet. Only
German and French romances and novels
by authors unknown to me, or writers
whose style l do not enjoy, inspire me
with an unconqucrable respect.
Books by these authors I never ven
ture to open, even in the greatest dearth
of reading matter Besides I eagerly
welcome everything published by the
latest journals and look through each
weekly and monthly periodical that 1
come across in dining or waiting room.
That is why | have Il succession of
fragments of a considerable number of
stories in my head, and as their classifi-
cation does not especially interest me it
thus happens that occasionally join the
end of one to the beginning of the other.
Somo of these dovetailed stories please
me quite AS we'll as the noted novels of
famous authors.
myself no criticism. Sometimes I finish
for myself story, the beginning of
which l have read, CT invent the first
chapter for the conclusion of a romance
which has fallen into my hands. Then,
after time, it is difficult 70 distinguish
betwcen what is mine and what is not
mine. Il most cases indeed l have of q
morning when I leave a city forgotten
what | have read there ca the preceding
evening. But when story has pleased
me l enjoy repeating it to myself in the
railway carriage, and then it becomes
fixed i'll my memory and recurs later, at
irregular intervals, as something per-
sonally experienced or again invented
by myself.
Tho following narrative is one of these
tales. I have forgotten where read it
for the first time Whether the talo was
exactly as l now havo it i'll my mind I
do not any longer know. But the idea is
not mine. believe found it in Paris
review. Then it must have been many
years since, for several omnivorous read
ers among my French acquaintances, of
whom | made inquiry regarding that
easily recognized sketch, could not re-
member to havercad it, 1t is also possi-
bio that | found it in Berlin or London.
Should tho owner ut any time reclaim it,
will return his property with thanks.
Here is the story as it has shaped itself
little by little i'll my head:
The numerous guests of the countess
had been slowly retiring since l o'clock,
and about II there We're only some half
dozen people assembled in the salon, the
very intimate friends of the house. The
handsome Palamede had pronounced his
verdict upon the notable toilets of the
evening, Rene had recounted the last
duel, Edmond the last steeplechase. The
scandal Of the day had been commented
upon i'll the usual philanthropic fashion,
and for the first time for half an hour
the conversation had languished
Tho countess turned to her neighbor,
the quiet Castor.
"You are making more noise than
usual this evening"" said she. "You
have been sleeping this half hour with
open eyes" The gentleman addressed,
who had been sitting upon low chair,
earnestly engaged i'll keeping up fire
in the chimney, in which he had dis
played the ability that, according to q
French proverb, is privilege of lovers
and philosophers, turned slowly and
made answer, II am thinking of my
first love"
Gratitude does honor to the receiver
and to the giver alike, said tho count
ess, Tell us the story of the first love
that still makes you dream today"
Castor slowly rubbed his thin hands,
as was his habit, and without waiting
for further urging began as follows:
"Whon say my first love, I do not
mean the very first. This indeed caused
mo III its time much pain and anxious
joy, but that is long since forgotten.
Many a time, when 1 now recall it, it
seems as though l thought of another S
love tale and not my own. l was at the
timo perhaps II or 13 years old, and she
was the sister of my schoolfellow
Jacques.
81 saw her for the first time upon our
playground, where she appeared with
her mother, during an intermission, to
see her brother. 1t was winter. The yard
was full of snow, and II fierce battle
waged between the opposing factions in
towhich the school was divided. At the
moment when l saw her at the entrance
TO the playground, Il hardcr SNOWFALL hit
me on the head, 50 that ! fell down I'M
conscious "A few minutes after, when 1
again cam tomyself, Twas sitting upon
ladies, tho mother and sister of my
friend, stood near and regarded me anx-
ionSlv