Cottonwood report. [volume] (Cottonwood, Idaho) 1893-1901, 1897-04-09
"'who falls from all he knows of bliss,

{" who falls from all he knows of bliss,
Cares little into what abyss
'gThey are the truest lines ever writ
ten," he said, and he stared into the
fire for time without speaking.
''Listen, and will tell you how fell
Five years ago was young man-do
look young now?' and he pointed to
his sunken cheeks and gray-streaked
hair. "And yet five years have made
the difference.
"My name is Robin Alerne. / was
living with my father in Scotland and
1t was there met my Flora. l can see
her now, as she was the first day met
her. 1t was glorious day in June. I
had sauntered out with my rod in the
morning, and was whipping the stream
which ran along the outskirts of the
wood, when the sound of sweet music
fell on my ear. 1 turned round and
saw a woman. She had not seen me.
and as she came along she sang in
voice as sweet and pure as was the
singer:
Her face is fair. her heart is true,
AS spotless as she's bonnie, o!
The opening gowan, wet wi dew,
Nae purer is than Mamie, Or
"She was singing her sun bonnet in
her hand, and the sun was playing
with her golden hair. Her neck was
bare, its whiteness contrasting with
her bonnie, sunburnt face.
"When she saw me she stopped and
blushed. Then she threw on her sun
bonnet and walked on hurriedly.
"She was girl from the neighboring
farm. / fell in love with her, and we
met in the wood, unknown to any one.
Then my father heard. He forbade me
to see her, and told me If disobeyed
him he would turn me from the house.
II met Flora the same night, and per-
suaded her, on that glorious moonlight
night, to be my wife. We came south
together, and married her. l was sue
cessful in obtaining a clerkship, and
after my work at the office was done,
my wife would sit in the little chair by
my side, while sat writing at my desk
For l had the gift of writing bits of
| stories, and often when the night had
| drawn on, and work was put away,
Flora and l would sit talking of the
| future, of the day when l should be a
famous author, and the drudgery of the
| office should be a thing of the past.
"But our happiness was too great tc
last. The roses on my darling's face
began to fade, and though she tried tt
smile away my fears, felt sure she
was going to be i'll.
'gThen one night when l came from
the office, 1 found her i'll In bed. Ii
despair l sat down to write a story
which, if accepted, would enable me tt
get her away into the country, or to thu
seaside. l worked at 1t all night, ant
finished it. Then a week later l re
ceived a letter at the Office from tn
editor telling me that my story hat
been accepted, inclosing a check ant
asking for more stories.
'Flora had been growing worse eacl
day, but now, l thought, she SHOULD
soon be better. l cashed the check AM
bought some luxuries for her, and
passing flower shop, went in and OF
tanned spray of lilies. They were he
favorite flowers.
"Then l hurried away home. 1 coul
hardy walk fast enough, but at last
reached my little house, and entered
1 ran upstairs and threw open her bed
room door.
Flora 1 cried. Success at las
my darling. You shall go away for
few days now
"She did net answer me. She mus
be asleep thought, and noiselessly
walked across the room.
81 stood over the bed, looking at m
sweetheart's lovely face. 1t was S
calm, so beautiful, so pure. There wa