Daily Kennebec journal. [microfilm reel] (Augusta, Me.) 1870-1975, 1901-05-04

was studying the valleys below and
learning things about country life that
he had never dreamed. There was very
little for him to learn about life in New
York. lie had sat at the feet Of wise
ones in the metropolis and had dclVcd
deep in the mysteries. Having been
born in the city he understood it thor
ourhly He did not love it. He was
not good enough to love anything. Ma
turc. big. round faced. full-breasted
nature. Who is the mother of all loves.
bad never como very near to him. He
was a street urChin. an office boy. a
mercantile clerk, and finally Il partner
in a concern whose affairs, at a crisis.
had made it necessary for him to sud
denly leave Gotham and retire to the
solituGc;; of the oxford Hills.
And what a sensation he had made
when he appeared at the hotel in the
little village on the hill and took the
best room. But when he found that
many people in New York made their
way to this village during the course
of a summer he went farther into the
wilderness and took a room at farm
house.
And the days he had spent lying in
moro than he could count He had
Iongcd for Il stroll down the Rialto. He
had wished just for an hour to sit at
a table in the Little Hungarian and
order dinner to suit himself. lie
wished that he might mingle with the
brilliant crowd of shoppers on Twenty
third street and for n little space watch
the faces and forms of those who came
out OF the doors OF great fashion shops.
He longcd for the ponderouS sweep of
the great bridge. and to see the myriad
twinkle of lights in the high towers OF
Manhattan as seen from a Jersey City
ferry boat al night
DeVereau was Il bad man-but that
did not prevent him from being hand
some, polite, and well dressed. He had
that indetina bic air of the city about
him which is SO mystifying and so
pleasing to the country bred He was
surrounded by an atmosphere which
stimulated the imagina tons of those
farmer folk with whom he came in
contact.
And this afternoon he was strolling
through the thick pine woods on the
hill tops above where on the side of
the mountain Struggled a little brown
farmhouse. Slung careleSSly over his
arm was 4 light fowling piece that he
had borrowed from the hired man at
the farm. 1t was a day fit for the
walking of a god. The woods were
fragrant with the smell of bursting
flowers. Along the edges of the brook
We're white and blue violets in masses.
The stream was filled with watercress.
but Devereau was not a countryman
and didn't know what it was. Dog
tooth vioIets with their long green
shoots dotted the last summers leaves.
Rare and mysterious wood birds called
back and forth. He had seen them
often in the Museum of Natural His
tory. and was surprised when he saw
an American redstart fit from tree to
tree. The wild birds he had been used
to were always stationary.
He was following down a cattle path
among the rocks. hummins to himself
As he went and wondering how long
before it would be safe for him to VEN
tUrc back to town.
suddenly just ahead of him there
was a rustic of leaves and out from the
bushes 'darted a lynx. The fiery eyes
Of the little individual glared at him
viciously. The tufts of hair on its ears
stood up with rage.
1t began to creep forward toward
him.
His admiration stopped his hand till
it was too apparent that the vicious
little animal intended to attack him.
Then he raised his shot gun. Pit be-
fore he could fire the report of rife
from the opposite direction startled
him, ana the animal sprang into the
air and fell dead a little distance away.
With Il merry laugh. holding a SmOk-
ing rife on her arm. and wearing a
light straw hat pushed iauntily back
upon her head, Mary Hudson. the
daughter Of the farmer who lived down
on the mountain side. came out of the
bushes and advanced to the carcass of
lynx. turning it over with her foot.
ooh. a milkmaid." said Devereau to
himself. But a vivacious one. The
daughter of some farmer"
Madame, you are a good shot" he
said. raising his hat and looking his
admiration.
well. sir you didn't think that I
was going to let you shoot that fellow
after | had followed him for two
hours did yOu?"
Why. you are a hunter. them"
Il am when these cats follow and
torment our sheep and cattle. Now
wonder how | am going to get this fell
low home, I really can't lose the
pleasure of bringing home the game,
you know
A Few minutes after this. the lynx
STING on a long pole between them the
Young woman and Devereau were
picking their way down the mountain
side toward the Hudson house. laugh
ing as they went and now and then
stumbling over the stumps and stones
in the path. That night Devereau sat
at table with the HudsOns and listened
with delight to the chatter of Mary
who told the story of her hunting over
for her fathers benefit. She was a
pretty girl. with fluffy brown hair and
bright eyes. A stout little person and
an independence that was charming
Bert Devereau did not require the in
vitation extended to him to induce him
to pay the farm a visit the next day.
He was there many times in the days
that followed. Mary's innocence and
freshness. her strenuOuSnesS ap-
pealed to him fully as much as her
bright eyes and fresh face.
One day in the fall they sat together