Edgefield advertiser. [volume] (Edgefield, S.C.) 1836-current, 1896-03-11

DAN temperament was Dol
a : that he had hitherto
@e} arisen smilingly after
every one of Fortunes hardest blows
and had defied that capricious dame tt
do her worst. Bat the last was the
worst of all, and ne thought about il
moodily, with an expression of comi'
cal despair on his face.
He was little bustling, happy crea
ture, with many friends; man who
came upon one like breath of fresh,
free air or q glimpse'of sunlight. His
very laugh was contagious, it seemed
to put the demons of Doubt and Wor'
ry to fight with its scho. But, at the
present moment, Bob Griffin sat silent
and glum. with q frown gathering
about his freckled brow.
"It was to be expected, I suppose,
he muttered. "She's always known
me as q sort of elder BROTHER friend
to whom she could tell her small
troubles. A poor sort of friend, Bob,
my boy, that you couldn't save he1
from this. But 1 suppose that's only
absurd jealously on my part. Heigho
it's the way with them all, my boy.
Better steer clear of them, Bobby
better steer clear Of them"
He ruiaed his fair hair up all over
his head and sighed.
"That's the worst OF it," he went
on, ruefully; "there isn't one of them
not one--that takes me seriously.
unless it's my tailor, and he's mercen
ary, and doesn't count. It's always
same. By Jove! I can see her now,
half laughing and half crying, wher
she told me ell about it. She takes my
hands Bob spread them out before
him and looked at them, with his
head on one side, as though ane1
glory had been added to them-"ani
she shakes them up and down, and she
wags that dear little curly head at me.
and she says, Bobby, dear, Pm going
to be married And then things be-
gan to 60 found and round. But
managed to smile at her, and con
graduated her. What does she want
to get married for? She's SO unhappy
as home, she says, and that chap is
such o dear-bah! and they are going
to live such an ideal life-poetry ant
moonbeams and things, I suppose
and the end of it is that the dear littl.
goose wants bit of romance, and tina
dark, unhealthy-looking chap ha
promised it to her, and he's turned
her head. wonder why the duece
amt an ideal chap, with long darl
hair and q slow smile
Even at the thought Of it, he threw
back his head, and burst into roa,
of laughter, and then as suddenly be
came serious again.
'tAnd she kissed me-heaven bles!
the dear aby!-kissed me out ther,
under the moon, and said, 'Wouldn'
I hope that she might be happy, and
wouldn't I think kindly of her?' Thinl
kindly of-here. Bobby, boy, your
making en- ass of yourself, you ugl.
little beggar.
He got up. and paced about tn
room, and blew his nose violently.
SITS not bit of good; can't stol
here. I shall go away, and seek tht
seclusion of natures vale, as the poe
says, until I get over it. Nothing lik'
natures vale for giving FLIP to {
wounded heart, Bobby, boy. Let mt
see-where shall / go? Nothing t.
keep me in town-nobody to miss me
nobody to hold me back and say
You shall not go to natures vale.
No-Pll go down to Allingbury-
dear, sleepy, old Allingbury-ant
ruralize. That's the thing; I'll star
tomorrow. But wish--there, ueve,
mind that.
Twenty-four hours later saw Mr.
Bob Griffin on his way to the old ant
little known market town of Alling
bury. He had come suddenly upo1
it in some former wanderings, and hat
been charmed with its Old World ali
OF repose and simplicity. It's ont
small hotel was clean and comforta
BILE, with wide fireplaces, and oak set
ties, and great four-post bedstead
that carried one back iDsensibly tt
the days of wigs and powder and pos
tillions.
"Well, William" he exclaimed t.
the old waiter, in his usual hearty
fashion, as, with his hat thrust on th'
back of his head, he entered the low
ceilinged coffee room and glanced
round at the place with the pleased oil
of one who encounters an old friend
"You've not retired yet, nor got mar
ried, nor taken to writing poetry, o.
anything of that kind-eh?"
'sNo, no, SIR" said the man, hasten
ing to relieve him of the bag he car
ried. "I amt 'ad no thoughts of re
tiring, sir, nor yet of taking wife
and as to poetry"
"William," broke in Bob, suddenly
with deep earnestness, ''if you eve:
write poetry I've done with you.
know o fellow who writes poetry-o
tries to; it's all the same-aD1--well
thirst for his gore"
He paused for moment, while th'
man gazed at him in astonishment
and then suddenly threw back his heat
and burst into his customary roar o
laughter.
"Get me something to eat, William
I'lI have it in here, he said, as h
settled down in one of the old-fash
ioned boxes near the fire. Left aloni
hs glanced round the room, smiled
contentedly and rubbed his hands