Vilas County news. [volume] (Eagle River, Vilas County, Wis.) 1896-1927, 1903-11-09

Il refuse TO listen, NlOlante. You sara
last night you loved me-that is
enough. We can do without parties
without dinner at all-if that will
set your mind at rest. You are mine,
darling: I claim you by right of love.
/ must have you. You are so quick,
so apt, so graceful, that in a few
DAYS you will learn more than others
learn in years; besides, / shall be
near you. can teach you all you
I will ever require to know"
There was still some hesitation in
her lovely face.
"Violante," he whispered, "do you
see how the flowers bloom, and how
their leaves send out fragrant mes
sages to their ardent lover-the sun?
7 Do you hear how the birds sing? Do
you hear the wind whispering among
I the trees? Shall flowers and birds
and trees be more happy than II"
i For the first time she turned and
1 looked at him; her beautiful eyes
met his. and rested in them. In
I that quiet, serene glance the destiny
of their lives was settled.
! The world is full of beautiful pic
lures. Some hang on the walls of
grand old galleries; some on the
walls of palaces whose very names
are redOlent Of fine art; some brighten
: humber homes; some are placed in
! old cathedral aisles-over the affairs
of churches; some have never been
+ framed or painted, save by the hand
of the Great Creator-pictures whose
+ beauty makes earth so fair; pictures
of white, 1eecy clouds sailing over
blue sky; of golden sunshine falling
T in soft rays; of pale. pure stars, max
i ing more solemn the solemn night
tide; of the lady moon, sailing on the
clear sky; pictures of summer woods,
OF ferny dells. of green valleys, of
snOw-crowned mountains, of quaint,
. fragrant gardens, of rustic bridges
crossing deep, quiet streams, of rip
ping brooks, of clear lakes where
water lilies sleep; such. pictures as
touch mems hearts with a sense of the
sublime, bringing deep, holy rapture
into the soul. and tears of earnest CART
titude TO eyes long dry.
And surely the fairest, the sweetest,
the purest picture of all was this one
upon which the sun shone like a smile
from heaven. The picture Of long,
green lane, where the grass grew soft
and thick, where the banks presented
one mass of bloom, and the hedges
were white with hawthorn green,
shady, fragrant lane, such as one only
sees in Old England. From between
the trees one caught glimpses of this
landscape, so fresh from the hands
of Heaven. There was the quaint,
picturesque town of Woodeaves, ~
ing in the Leicestershire hills, half
buried in green foliage, surrounded by
thick woods, by rich, green clover
meadows, by golden cornfelds, by
fertile pasture lands, flowery gardens
and fruit-laden orchards, stretching
out to the purple hills as to an un-
known land.
There was a grand old church
whose spire pointed like a slender
hand 10 heaven. Ii was covered with
ivy, and inclosed by tall oak trees,
under whose shade the dead slept
so quietly and so well. The houses
were pretty and stood empowered in
trees.
That was the picture one saw from
between the trees; and then, turning
TO the stile at the end of the lane,
here was another picture even falrer
stu.
Behind a cluster of golden laburn-
ums and purple lilacs there stood a
picturesque. gray, old house, bright
eUed by scarlet creepers, by purple
wisteria and climbing woodbines; a
house with large, bright windows,
framed in trailing flowers and roses
Of white and red, with quaint old
gable ends, and deep, overhanging
caves, where birds built their nests
and sparrows chirped.
A house that stood in a most be-
wildering garden-nor square and
trim, and laid out as the Dutch like
to see-but full of hooks and corners;
full OF trees, whose roots were hid
den in great masses of mignonette and
Glove carnations; full of Old-fashioned
flowers such as poets loved long
years ago-sweet peas and sweet
williams, southernwood and pansies,
lilies and roses. Every path had
charm of it's own, leading either to
fragrant rosebushes or beds of white
lilies, or plats Of ripe-red strawber-
ries or raspberries running wild. At
the end of the garden stood the pretty,
rustic old stile; gold laburnums
dropped over it, and tall lilacs stood
proudly near; and here the sunbeams
fell as though they loved to linger,
for they frightened the fair head of
one of the fairest girls who ever
looked up to the summer skies.
She. Violante Temple, stood by the
stile. with the la5urnums dropping
over her. Her lover had pushed
aside the boughs, and they made n
frame for her lovely, piquant face.
TTa vrae handfnor over bar yrafohfu o.