The Bossier banner. [volume] (Bellevue, Bossier Parish, La.) 1859-1952, 1898-12-08
AN IDYLI, OF THE WAR.
Harold Didn't Think His Hearts IDOL
Meant business, but
She Did.

The girl was true heroine.
The man in the case was a fair.
average young patriot, the glitter on
the brass Of whose uniform, and the
sheen of the pomp and panop!y of war
had began to tarnish in the damp
weather reports of the rainy season in
Cuba.
There was really no reason for his
going into the fight when there were
thousands fairly stumbling over each
other to take his place. He could much
better remain at home, preserving his
health so that when his beloved coun-
try needed strong new men to lead
her to final victory he would be in
perfect readiness &c respond.
1t was in such light he looked upon
the question, and hundreds and thou
sands Of i1en and women are looking
al it in exactly the same light.
But not SO the girl.
She chad determined that any man
who won her favor must do so in the
forefront of battle. The only way to
her heart lay through the field Of her
country's glory.
She came of fighting stock, and a
long line of illustrious heroes
stretched far back from her TO the
mystery OF the history of beginnings.
There we're battleaxes and petards
and arquebuses and catapults and ar
NOR and shields and swords and IanceS
and scimctars and visors and batterine
rams and ironclads and rapid-tring
guns and military tops and torpedoes
and dumdum bullets and breech-load
ers and al sorts Of disagreed anc
| dangerous things jutting up all over
her lineage like quilts on the fretfu:
porcupine, and she could not bear the
| thought of having the record stop with
| her.
| The Young man called to see her and
say good-by ere he went to the front,
but he had not thought Of her lineage.
| 1t was possible for him to retire
now with honor, and he felt that when
! the moment for the last good-hy had
arrived her woman's heart would as
| sert itself. and she would not let him
leave her side.
\ brave man could not ask a woman
to do this, but brave man could make
any sacrifice for the woman he loved
and who loved him.
The clock was on the stroke of l:
when he arose from the silken sofc
where they had been commuulng with
the infinite tenderness Of lovers ever
since the sun had sunk to purple res
among the amethystine clouds.
There were tears in her dark brown
eyes as she gazed fondy on his stall
wart tigure-perhap for the last time
tears Of sorrow and tears Of pride
He opened his arms without speak
she futtered to him and nestled he:
golden head upon his manly bosom.
Like powerful bands of velvet steel
soft a springtine and unyie'ding a
frozen winter, she found those en-
folding arms about her and was IN
speakaby happy in the knowIedg
that their protection was hers.
He whispered to her soft and low
and she locked up into his face en-
tranced.
Once, twice. thrice-fifty--an hun
dred-a thousand times he kissed he
her hair, her cheeks. her eyes, he
lips, and the ecstasy Of incommun
cable bliss filled her soul and thrille
her heart.
He could feel the tremors o + her ra
ture sweeping across her like grea
storm of feeling. and he had stron
hopes that she would not Weld him Il
to the bloody sacrifices of battle.
But her pride was greater than hi
She recovered herself suddenly a
| from 4 trance.
"Oh, Harold" she exclaimed, wit
a sublime effort. pushing him frol
;, her, this is magnificent, but it is nc
. war. Good-by."
. And Harold knew that the die wa
4 cast.-N. y. Sun.