St. Tammany farmer. [volume] (Covington, La.) 1874-current, 1901-11-30

y
checked his hayward fancy with q
sharp reproof. He was in public gal
lery with publisher who had just res
jected the best piece Of work he had
ever done.
"Do you ever read Stanton's
poems?'' he asked, in tone that held
a hint Of twilight in its tenderness.
"Al of them," she returned, with
out lifting her eyes.
'They are wistful things"
"Yes." she interrupted, but it is
the usefulness of strength, not
What an absurd subject for physi-
ologist and publisher to be wasting
time over! That misty bit of noon
light must have gone to our heads. -
ut is exquisitely true to nature, -
he returned, setting aside her change
of manner.
els it? Well, my holiday is over.
i"
"Don't say good-by," he interrupts
ed, quietly. II am going home with
you"
'It will not be worth while. If it
had been possible to handle the book
with any promise of profit, the house
would have accepted it at once.
| We"
81 don't want to discuss the book"
he interrupted, impatiently.
She looked at him, frankly puzzled.
"Well," she said, las you like" and
then led the way toward the en-
trance.
Stanford followed with sturdy de-
termination. Was she at heart gar
den flower or bantam? He was re-
solved to. know. And fit? His
thought broke there and he fell to
studying the passers by with quiet
intentness.
The head Of the concern had not
forgotten his presence, but that
serene moon above the darkened
trees came between her and all prac-
teal thoughts. She attempted to
reason upon the cause of his pres
ence, to remain alert. But in mo.
ment her thoughts slipped from her
control and ran back to those dim
pines massed against the eastern
sky. Could it be possible that it was
only ten years ago? At is she had
been a poet of imitless ideals; at
% she was hard working woman.
given to testing by the sordid stan-
dard of dollars and cents.
Stanford took her arm to guide her
over a crossing and she smiled invol.
unfairly.
''What is it?'' he asked.
Nothing" she returned.
II did not know you were the wom-
an to smile at nothing, and" he con-
tinued, as they reached the door, II
don't believe you are" He rang the
bell and faced her on the steps.
"What were you smiling at?"
"Why, only at the thought of my
being guided over crossing"
Stanford followed her into the lie
brary before he spoke again.
"Youmean," he said, earnestly, "you
have been a bantam so long that you
have quite forgotten the garden flow
er's love of sunshine and shelter?"
He placed his hand on the back Of
the chair and hesitated moment be-
fore dragging it near hers.
do you think that you can per-
suade me that you are a bantam
quite to the heart-that all your
womanly tenderness has been lost |
beneath determination to bring tho |
house through"
why, yes"
"You think that you can quite con-
vince me of all that-and yourself?"
"Why, yes. assure you I feel
quite strong and woody but she did
not meet his eyes. The memory of
that moonlight was troubling her,
that, and other things.
"You quite believe that? Then you
will not mind reading this for me-"
and he laid Stanton's Even Song on
her knee.
She took it up at once:
'.Dear heart. life is not long.
The shadows deepen and the waning
Drifts to the music Of the even song
And then-Good night
In loftier realms through Gods eternal
years.
IT'S here we heed the Joys that 1t may give.
Its tenderness, its tears.
And yet such barriers rise
To keep the outstretched, sundered hands
apart,
What is fuldllment in the far, faint skies
When earth is dumb dear heart"
Stanford,s hands closed over hers.
"Ten me-" he whispered, sis the
garden flower quite dead?"
The hands in his quivered and he
stopped to kiss them passionately.
"'My queen rose of the rosebud
garden of girls.:."
Garden flower or bantam. stern
1earted or tender. love knocks alike
1t the heart of all, and to each that
opens unto him he brings food of
light, soft-tinted and glad.
One Of Twain's Digs.
They tell good many stories of
Mark Twain's doings while in Lon
lon, but this is one of the best. One
L ~ Il