The Bossier banner. [volume] (Bellevue, Bossier Parish, La.) 1859-1952, 1899-09-28

.H~.' ~"u "oHuelcu uoW Sue happened
to leave her p:im leaf fan on the train.
I'm gettin' all het up!" she said to
| herself, wearily.
She had thought that she knew lust
which kind of car to take to get to her
nephew's house, but they came along 80
fast, and looked so much alike that Che
was getting doubtful. And she meant
to be very cautious. She was morally
certain, that once on the wrong car
her doom was sealed. There was no
knowing to what dreadful den she
might be lured, robbed and murdered
and no one would ever know what be-
came of her. She had read of numbers
of people disappearing mysteriously
that way. So she let car after car pass
until she could feel quite, quite sure.
When she had been standing there
some time in the hot sun, handsome
coupe stopped near her, and an old gen
tleman stepped out. He was a very fine
looking old gentleman, indeed, clean
shaven, rosy, and somewhat pompous.
His hair was silver white, and so were
the heavy brows under which were
eyes as hard and bright as polished
steel; his mouth was the mouth of a
man who loved pomp and pleasure, but
it was not altogether cruel mouth As
he stepped on to the curb he noticed the
woman standing there with her basket
of country plants, looking vaguely
about her, and tanning herself wearily
with black shawl.
He had quick sense of the pic
turesque. this smooth-shaven old gen
tleman, and he was one of the few who
looked a second time. His eyes softened
q little, too. It was as if breath of
clover fields and orchards had been
waited to him by that bit of black shawl
in the cotton-gloved hand.
Some one in passing had broken off
spray from one of the plants, and it
lay willing on the hot curbstone. The
gentleman stopped, picked it up, and
carried it into his Office in the great
stone building on the corner. When he
was seated at his desk it was still in his
hand. He looked at it curiously. 1t
had large, oval, dull-green leaves, deli
cately serrated; pungent, wholesome
cdor rose from it, prevailing over the
other odors in the room--odors of Rus
sia leather, of tobacco and of the street.
The gentleman inhaled it's fragrance
long and deeply.
"What is it?'' he asked himself. II
seem to remember-ah, yes! have it.
It is-rosemary! Yes. That's what it
10. Rosemary"
The steely eyes softened still more,
and fixed themselves like those of one
hypnotized. The full, proud mouth
grew tender.
"There was clump of rosemary in
mothers garden" so ran his thoughts,
land near it was great mat of clover
pinks. They bloomed in June. can
smell them now. There was huge
bush of southernwood there, too, and
some tawny lilies, and spiderwort, and
monkshood, and striped grass. Strange
how the old names come back to me!
The lilac bushes in the corner were like
trees to me in those days. 1 used to sit
under them and play at matching
blades of striped grass with sister
Mary, and wonder why her hands were
SO white, and why mother never let her
work hard. I know now. She faded
away and died, and there was only me
left. l remember those Sundays in
summer, when was not allowed to play
or run about. How long they were, and
how hot! Like to-day, but with such a
difference! Mother always had a
spray of rosemary and pink folded in
her handkerchief when we started for
the meeting house, and some caraway
seed in her pocket, which she gave me
now and then during the service when
she saw I was almost asleep. ] taste
them now and smell the rosemary and
the pinks, and the pine odors coming in
at the open window, and the varnish
on the pews, all mingled together. And
hear the creaking of the women's
fans, and the horses whinnying under
the shed behind the meeting house,
and the minister's droning voice-now
it all comes back to me!
"And Abby-Abby Grover-her folks
pew was across from ours, and l used
to try my best to make her laugh in
meeting, but I don't think l ever sue.
ceeded. She was nice girl, Abby was
Not pretty, but with something about
her that was better than beauty. And
her eyes and hair were really lovely, ]
remember.
"Abby generally wore sprig of rose.
mary pinned to her dress when went
over to see her Sunday nights in sum
mcr. That was after we grew up. We
used to sit on the orchard wall and talk
until the whippoorwills began crying
and Abby's mother would come to the
door and say the dew was falling and
she guessed we better come in.
81 fancy / did most OF the talking
though, for Abby was one of your 81.
lent, deep sort. l told her all my plans
for getting away from the farm and
making my fortune in the city. And
she would listen patieAly, though
must have been terrible bore, anl
look at me with her nice clear eyes ant