The Montgomery advertiser., 1902-07-03
A Fourth of July Confession.

BY CHARLES EUGENE BANKS. Copyright. s1so2. by Daily Story Pub. Col ''Mr. Arnold. don't think you believe what you say"
 Indeed do, Miss Darlington"
 .ro, Tourtn M of July farce? Then you T mean to say that all the money spent m hiring on crackers and burning rockets
 has no useful purpose"
 Tt expresses our feelings, think, and
 that is all anything can do for us in this
 T do not asaf9ss with you. There are
 many simpler and more sensible ways of
 swing expressions to our emotions than
 by filling the air with noise and smoke.
 It Is childish. Grown people ought to be
 ss1s,ss sn1e to snow their patriotism in more
 Fudge. You are getting as dry and un-
 interesting as those old books you bury
 yourself In most of the time. I believe in
 way, but that is generally very tire some way"
 The young man stopped to the side of
 the path and picked up dry twig, held 1t before his eyes for a moment and then
 snapping it sharply threw the ends into the air.
 "Why isn't that as good an expression as though it had been tightly rolled pa- per with little saltpeter confined at it's heart? If break the stick with Q de- votional thought concerning the Declara- ton of Independence shall experience as sublime a thrill as though fired off a cannon"
 You might, Mir. wiseman, but we are not all gifted with imagination. Most of us require something outside of ourselves to move us sublimeiy.''
 The hot blood surged into the face of the young man at the retort. He turned
 his gaze full on the girl at his side. but she was already turning away, calling
 softly to robin hopping in the shade of
 an old apple tres that grew beside the gate leading into the farmhouse grounds, "Milly!' he called. reproachfuliy.
 "wait till George Lounsbery comes
 home home from New York tomorrow and you'll see what the Fourth of July means
 to man with real red blood in his veins. than a hundred doliar's' worth of fire works. I don't believe any one went to bed that night at all. The sky was filled with red fire and realized for the first time what 1t meant to be an American" You mean the son of Farmer Louns- bery, I supDoseT
 "Yes. He's great man now. although he was born and grew up in this illiterate
 neishSorho9d."
 Miss Darlington, if you please Mfr. Shakespeare. Does your dingy old leath- er-covered books tell you that young man hs the right to address young lady that he met only four weeks ago with as
 sister?'' The girl tossed her pretty head with an air that might have been learned in
 the court of a queen. although she had
 little knowledge of the ways of the world
 outside of Mohawk Valley. But was she
 not woman, young, pretty, proud, whim-
 sical-as most pretty young women are And what need had she for instructions
 in the art of ooquetry? To the serious
 young student who had come into the
 neighborhood with no other idea than
 that of earning a modest Ewing by teach
 ing in the public school she had knowl-
 edge enough and to spare He loved her,
 of course. There was no escape from
 that She knew it. too. as we'll as though
 he had told her so with ali the irnpas- stoned fervor of Romeo. But he had
 not told her so. How could he when she
 met every attempt of his to utter what filled his heart with good-natured railery.
 But he had not been discouraged. "she
 will listen to me some day." he told
 himself over and over again as he walked
 over the hills or sat in his little room with an unread book in his hand. A woman does not like to be easily won. Ills reading told him that, He had never dreamed of a rival. The few young men of Randall seemed to feel that she was reverence OE surly disdain. What was this she had been saying but now? George Lounsbery! A real man, with red blood
 in his ysins. He felt the blood freezing in his heart.
 "is he-is Mir. Lounsbery friend of
 yoursT'
 known him ever since I was a child. He Is a great man now. Cashier in a bank in the city and trusted with tons of money. Wait till you see how things will move when he arrives"