The Wichita daily eagle. [volume] (Wichita, Kan.) 1890-1906, 1902-01-23
A BIT OF POSSIBLE ROMANCE.


road, keeping il the grass between the
dust of the highway and the slzirting
stone wall. He was not q very big man.
and there was something suggestive OF
physical trailty about the stoop at the
shoulders There was strength in his
face, however. ard look in his eye that
told one that few things that God had
| made held 10 place in the mans heart.
It was historic old road this. 1t was
the road that led and still leads from
| Concord TO Acton. Minutemen had hur-
| ried along the thoroughfare, and the
! tramp Of the feet OF the young men Of
| Acton going to the front in the days
of civil strife had left many mere marks
thar were made when the survivors re-
| turned. The man who this lay was
! trudging along carried d little biologists
/ hammer in one hand and II the other
/ botanist's tin box. Occasionally he would
stoop 10 pick flower or to rap with his
/ hammer on the surface of Juttins rock
Another man was coming along in the
| opposite direction. She two met and this
salutation passed.
Good morning, Ralph"
! Good morning. Henry"
Then Henry showed Ralph flower and
bit of Clipped rock, and they sat on
! the top of the stone wall to talk
They are cutting down the big trees in
| Holmes woods, Henry, said Ralph.
Thank God, man can't cut down the
| clouds, Ralph" answered Henry.
| Then Ralph took up the flower which
/ his companion had first shown him and
said: Henry, you know more Of these
| things and OF the trees and the mammals
| and the birds than Go most Of us. You
are one of Mother Natures best lovers
There is one thing you lack" and then
a smile spread over TIE speakers some
| what grave face. You lack a wife.
You would find still more beauty in this
pink anemone, much as it holds in store
for you now, if you were married.
Ralph, you speak with the feeling of
the man who has but recently found a
mate and to whom the very stones sing.
! This is rather idle talk, though it is be-
tween old friends. Mating and marrying
are not for mes I'll keep on tramping the
fields, and when I go home tired I'll take
of my own overcoat and cool my fevered
brow"
Then they parted Henry, with his ham,
mer ard box, kept straight on toward
Acton until he reached a lane leading
through a tangle Of wild roses. He knew
the way well and whence it led He had
run many a surveyors line through this
section and, Notwithstanding the nature
of his last words with Ralph. his feet
auickened as he turned into the shaded
byway, and with the quickening of his
pace came a quickening of heartbeat.
though he would not own II. A house
came into view. 1t was the place of a
fairly well-to-do farmer. Under a tree
in front was a girl-a woman perhaps
better describes her, for she was at least
10 years old.
OF late when Henry had been botanizing
he had found that the flowers grew fairer
along this way than even along the road
that led to his loved Walden Pond and
Walden woods. He had never thought it
possible that there could be a place in his
life for any love save that of bird and
beast and flower and OF that broad human
sympathy with men and women, but
which is sympathy only.
The girl had liked these visits of the
scholar. She was fiattered by them. She
knew of his friendship with the great
minds of the village. She knew that al
ready his fame was broader than the
state. She knew all this, and was pleased
thereby. As for the naturalist. he said
little when he stopped fer his half hour
at the farmhouse. He never ATTEMPTED to
find out how much there was of gold and
how much OF dross in this creature who
pleased his eye as did a beautiful flower
or q rose tinted cloud. Analysis, which
was his first thought on plucking a rare
plant, never entered into his head He
did not know whether he wss in love or
not in the sense in which he had heard
and read of love. He was content to see
llcL OlNaSAclidlly anu " POliISt OhCI tue
meaning of this strange thing which was
creeping into his being and which made
him at times pass by some nodest-faced
field flower that had never before ap-
pealed to him in vain for recognition of
its beauty.
For Henry a person who did not love
nature in all its forms was a person who
was lacking in the very essence of that
which goes to make life continual joy.
He had been dropping in at the wayside
farm for nearly two months and his |
visits were getting more frequent, though |
nothing as yet had passed his lips save !
the commonplace. One day Henry met |
Ralph again in the same place that he !
had met him before. They sat again on !
the stone wall, and the conversation was |
turned adroitly by Henry into the channel |
through which It had flowed once before. |
Ralph" ne asked, you know about |
such matters; how does a man tell /
whether the woman Of his first choice will |
be forever the woman of his heart?'
We'll" was the answer; ''if she have |
sympathy with those things with which |
the man sympathizes, then they are wei !
mated"
They parted. Henry went along the /
road bordering. sympathy with those I
things with which the man sympathizes?"
he thought. Then he seemed struck with 1
sudden thought. He clambered over the /
stone wall and plucked a spray Of haw- /
thorne It was exquisitely beautiful and /
was redoient of the May time. Then he
plodded on again and finally came TO the
farmhouse. He met Mary, for that was
her name. and spoke Of his walk through
the fields They talked for ten minutes;
then Henry handed her the spray Of haw-
thorne, speaking of its delicacy. its beauty
and the thoughts that Il inspired in him.
He watched Mary the while. She seemed
hardly to appreciate what he meant.
Make thoughts ike that Gomez" she
said How can it? It's nothing but
hawthorne. and il grows as common as
weed"
Henry took the white blossoms gently
back and looked at them. The fragrance
and the beauty stirred him again. Moth
ing but hawthorne. and it grows as COM
mon as a weed" he thought.
It was getting toward evening. The
twain had sat in silence for some min
utes Suddenly from r copse there came !
n bird voice Of ethereal beauty. Henrys
eyes frightened. II was that sloriousiy
golden note OF which John Burroughs has
since said: 1T suggests a serene reii-
Eious beatitude. 1t realizes a deep and
solemn JOY that only the finest souls
may know
..M7ry, that is the song Of the hermit
thrush. j e passing through 3fassa-
chusetts IN its way north Did you ever
hear more beautiful strain2
II don't know; I've never paid any at
tenti0n 10 bird songs.
II may have come 20 Mary during the
next few days that somehow she had
made q mistake. i didn't know she
said u herself that he set such store
BY birds ard flowers"
One day she was walking . the village