Orleans County monitor. [volume] (Barton, Vt.) 1872-1953, 1902-09-08
THE PICKED LOCK /
A Tale Of Old Vienna.

pretty country woman, Maud We
myss OF Baltimore, whom / had the
pleasure of escorting. / had made
her acquaintance over the leaden
sarcophagus of a defunct emperor
in the vault of the Augustine con-
vent, where the bones of Austria's
rulers are on exhibition. Nobody
could blame me for falling in love
with her, because she really is the
sweetest girl on earth.
So we were walking toward st.
Stephens cathedral in charge of a
paid cicerone. He was little old
man with a wrinkled face and a
nose that had, like his shabby gen.
teel clothes, seen better days. Now
it was by no means an ornament un-
less considered from the purely col
oristic standpoint. He knew nearly
everything about the brilliant city
by the "blue Danube" and where
his knowledge was inadequate his
imagination tided him over.
Suddenly Miss Wemyss halted be-
fore a strange object, and with
little feminine exclamation of sur
prise she asked: "Why, what is this
thing for? 1t seems to be the stump
of a tree all covered with nails"
And so it was. So closely together
had the nails been driven that not
a piece of the wood as large as a
pinhead even was visible on the en-
tire surface.
Our guide at once assumed the
customary attitudes of his guild in
action, which closely resemble the
gyrations accompanying the spread
eagle finish of a stump speakers
grafton.
And this is the story he told of
the nail studded tree:
Several hundred years ago there
lived a blacksmith on this spot
which is occupied by stockholders
Office now. In those times black
smith understood the working of
iron in all its branches, and it was
as easy for him to hammer the met
al into graceful curves and flowers
for altar ratings as it was to forge
a horseshoe or the point of hunt
ing spear.
Our blacksmith had a beautiful
daughter, whose hand was sought
after by all the young men for miles
around, for she was as good and
pure and gentle as her eyes were
blue. Her hair was golden, and her
cheeks were like the glacier snow
upon which the morning sun had
cast his virgin rays.
Her father guarded her as jeal-
ously as the dragon of old ever did
guard fair lady, and many were the
silent tears poor Kathi wept in the
solitude of her "Kemenate" where
she had been locked up. Her only
Joy was the bunch of fragrant flow
ers which she was always sure to
find upon the outer sill of the only
window in her room. No matter
how early she awoke, these sweet
messengers of kindly thought were
sure to be in their usual place.
Often and often did she arise with
the sun, hoping to catch a glimpse
of her unknown friend, but she was
invariably disappointed.
At last one morning she failed to
find the flowers. She dressed hur-
riedly and concealed herself behind
the window curtain. She watched
for the person whose gift she felt
certain to receive yet, and her ex-
pectation was not futile.
But what was her surprise and
disappointment when, instead of the
fine young fellow which her fancy
had pictured, she beheld a poor, de-
formed creature with large hump
on his back.
Her first feeling of horror found
vent in a little exclamation, but
there was something so sad and
pleading in his eyes, that were up
fitted to hers, that she felt sincerely
ashamed to have exhibited any sign
bf annoyance.
"Was it you who brought me all
hose lovely flowers? ?" she asked il
kindly voice as he was trying t.
conceal a nosegay he held in his
band.
In answer he blushed like school
,irl and nodded.
81 thank you for them yer,
nuch," she continued. 'They hav,
peen the only pleasure in my monot
nous life. But how did you know
hat was locked up in here ?"
81 have heard you sing occasion
lly," he answered, "and from tn
ound of your voice 1 knew you wer
Dung and beautiful and, alacka
.,.1 Aoao,,co