Wheeling Sunday register. [volume] (Wheeling, W. Va.) 1882-1934, 1900-10-14
THE COLONEL.
~ WIN "A. Mckenzie.

catch n In its ripples and lure one
into the wiles of sentimental existence.
Twas a strange company indeed, idly
passing its time away in the little semi
rural hotel which graced the village, the
sum total of which comprised The Poet,
The Golfer, The Colonel and myself.
We passed the long evenings whimsi-
cally, lounging together on the broad
%veranda, tangiing each others smoke
wreaths, and arguing DER and Ger Y
pet theories and faneies; beautiful lit
tie stories (by the Colonel), and COM
monplace ones-these latter being con-
tributed by myself.
The Poet was a romantic individual
with luxuriant hair and ideas, and a
soft moonlight was enough to cause
him to punctuate the languid puhs or
his cigarette with a strong OF airy
nothings Favored distinctly with theun-
real. One in his presence, and looking
at his pensiye face half fancied, he was
in the company of something ethereal,
threatening to fade from view at any
Whit of reality, and you ionged 10
grasp him ere he vanished.
The Golfers principal characteristics
were his carefully parted hair and a
surprising energy for chasing over the
country in pursuance of his hobby, n
he beguiled our evenings with tales IN
dialect that were as ineligible as a
Filippino's views on education. he
seemed only to regret that Edison had
so inexcusably left off inventlng n
failed to PROVE an inexhaustible lum-
inant, by which the holes" could be
followed plainly in the sweet fragrance
of the night.
But The Colonel. He was a gentle
man of the old school. Perhaps fifty
winters had lined their fairy traceries
through his silken hair, and time a
mellowed his voice into a cadence that
soothed ones soul like a draught OF
some 1uiu of the Gods. Tall, straight
and handsome, with faultless garb n
he walked directly into our
hearts from the first. He seemed to
think us part of his family. and ne
spent the long evenings with us IN a
simple sort of happiness, apparently IN
t~erested in all we said, though we ofteh
berated ourselves in privaCei for bqrlng
the dear old gentleman. But, he enter
ed into our every scheme with a boy
ish adolescence which made us love
him partly as a chum, partly as a
father. Myself, a weary young ONCE
man I found an infinite sense OF rest
when talking to The Colonel, and gaZ-
ing into his wonderful, expressive eyes.
we got on we'll together, despite our
differences, thanks to The Colonel, but
alas. there came one day The WIDOW
and our pleasant compromising was
at an end, drowning itself IN an lm-
measurably sweeter one
Why such a charming, fashlonabie plt
of feminity as Mrs. Dalman ever came
to a secluded place like KirkWood was a
mystery, but come she did, and we were
lost. She was of medium heighth, ana
90 pretty that for one whole evening
The Golfer forgot his discourse on dfiv-
ers and The 4oet his discussion or
rhythm. and both sat in impolite rap
ture staring at her through the dusk.
Her hair was brown, her complexion
faultless and defiant of the sun, While
the eyes that twinkled like two eltin
stars, seemed to look down into your
soul and twist it out of harmony with
itself. She was so demure. so n
cent, it seemed a crime to fall in love
with her and try to awaken within her
a passion to disturb the calm serenity
of her being; but how could we help II?
The Poet was the first to go, and
night after night TIE two strolled the
lawns, and the long-suffering air was
often quivered with strains of a guitar
played lovingly beneath the window OF
The Widows room, and gushes or
poetry welled up in love-lorn song I'M
til we felt heartily sorry for the dear
little lady.
Presently The Widow began to tire
of The Poet, and some unkind matrons
about the place whispered tickle" but
we knew they were wrong for the poor
fellow always was tiresome, and the
kind-hearted little woman had only
gone with hlm in pity, an. no one couid
blame her for not wishing to be a mar
tyr always; and when The Golfer went
down, she naturally turned to him for
escape. The luekless versifier held on
feebly for a time, and finally gave
it up For days and days, he poured
his troubles into the willing ears of
The Colonel, and was comforted and
petted by the sanity old gentleman
until he drowned his sorrows in a new
poem (Which the Colonel-poor man
appreciatively read, and confined his
admiration for his divinity to signs and
glances. ,.,-,
The Golfer lead The Widow out on
the heather. day after day, and kept
her there until my limbs ached in SYM
pathy; but she returned each evening
as bright, as sweet tempered and rs
brilliant as ever. She was an expert
at golf, and often beat her admirer,
which both panied and pleased him,
and in the evenings as We all sat to-
gether, he would entertain us by an
account of the day, at which The Col
onel. from behind his fragrant cigar
would whisper: Easy, my boy, don't
loose your heart; and be gentle with
The Poet, for he is terribly cut up you
know" and we all revered the knightly
old fellow all the more
But the Golfer must have taxed the
bewitching lady's endurance too much.
for | thought | could detect that she
was more reserved with him, and
seemed slightly bored at his persis-
tent attentions, yet she was too self
sacrificing, thought l, to openly refuse
the poor fellows attentions. so twas
then, with a sort of pity for The Widow.
l think. that | Logan to take her driv-
ing occasionally myself.
We had such a delightful time to-
gether, her every mood answering mine