Republican news item. [volume] (Laport, Pa.) 1896-19??, 1901-09-19
The Old Apple Tree.

not since our Balliol days, until | saw
him again after seven years at the
varsity sports in the early spring. He
was the same as ever, stanch and
genuine and generous. 1t was he who
had suggested and settled the details
of our trip on the river 1t was to
be on June Is. and we were to have
had a long, healthy eXhiarating day,
with plenty of hard exercise and a
long chat about old times.
The day came and l was in river-rig
at the boathouse agreed upon half
an hour earlier than we had mutually
fixed. But Fry did not come. | know
of nothing more irritating than to
have to hang about for another fellow
to turn up when one is alone like that.
At last, got note by his servant.
His excuse for not coming seemed
to me a fimsy one. His wife's father
had fixed sudden meeting of family
trustees, and afterward he had to see
his sister on business of consequence
relating to trust Hoewver, whether
it was an excuse or whether it was
a reason, he was not coming with me
for our projected river trip-that was
clear. 1t was annoying, but | trust |
am too philosophic to feel anything
deeply that cannot be helped. | coun-
termanded the pair-skiff and had out
single canoe.
In five minutes I was "on the bosom
of old Father Thames The hack
neyed words, as l thought of them,
were in themselves comfort, and as
l padded on l thought how a gay
heart wants no friend. Solitude has
charms deeper than society can af
ford. Out of my memory teemed
troops of friends, and they were with
me as | willed; they came at my call
and vanished as l wished when
thought of another suggested.
l was veritably festive in my lone
liness. Everything was new to me,
ard yet familiar; the lazy cattle. knee
deep in the water, the trim villas fes-
TONED with roses and clematis, the
laughing weirs, the fleets of graceful
swans, the barges and the pleasure
boats, the pools where the water-lilies
grew. How lovely it all was, and how
sweet (since fate had willed it so)
to enjoy it undisturbed and solitary!
"If this be loneliness, I thought.
turning my canoe into a backwater of
the main river, along which | had al
ready padded with the stream for
several miles q had passed through
two locks), Il have been often lone
lier among hosts of. friends And l
fear there was some concelt in the
delight l enjoyed; cast thus upon my
own resources l was proud of my
buoyancy of spirit. | found myself
ever and anon peopling the passing
banks and woods with creatures of
my own imagination, making of the
whole landscape a background for the
creation of an as yet unwritten rom
ance. I wove fairy tales. l am a
professcd writer of romances, and I
determined that the beings born of
my river dream should awake and live
in words on the shelves of libraries.
/ was now in a lovely backwater
more beautiful than the Thames it
self. The bankside flowers were more
abundant and nearer to me-indeed,
they hedged me about. The pale,
blue eyes of innumerable forget-me-
lOto ciIilth tl)OI IHc VIII lOStS anu
branblcs bloomed and their thorns,
the leaves of the osiers whispered
everywhere, and weeping willows
hung their arching boughs right
across the narrow creek which it now
pleased me to explore.
The water was clearer, too Pad
ding slowly along between the lawns,
looked into the depths of the water
with all its wealth and wonder of
plantgrowth, the waving forests Of
submarine weed, where I could see
shoals of minnows. Now and then a
school of perch. startled by my pad
de darted into the shadow of the
weed and a huge jack, sulking in a
deep green pool made me long for a
rod and line
While thus engrossed bending my
head over the side of the canoe, in
which | continued to drift slowly
along, | failed to notice how narrow
the creek had become, until suddenly
l found myself close to lady lying
on a lawn-so close that | was almost
touching her She was quite at the
edge of the grass, which stopped to
the river. Half a dozen cushions
were about her-her book lay open.
had never seen so glorious a picture,
nor one that burst upon my vision so
suddenly. She was in something
white and dainty, her hat was hung
on branch, and the old, gnarled
tree under whose shade she reclined
was covered with apples Her hair
was tangled and golden, and her eyes
full of light and laughter.
For while ! sat staring at her in
bewilderment. Then l stammered
"Where am II"
Her answer was perfectly calm, but
It was not chill: no. her voice was SC
soft that the simplest words she ut
tered were a melody.
"You are in my fathers garden,
ohe caid