Manchester Democrat. [volume] (Manchester, Iowa) 1875-1930, 1903-11-18

wonders in that storehouse or beaury.
Trees of many kinds deepened the
shadows of the canyon. Over us
waved the big elms That grew up here
and there out of the bottom and around
their feet clustered low cedars and
hemlocks and balsams, while the
sturdy, rugged oaks and delicate, trem-
bling poplurs chung to the rocky sides
and clambered up and out to the can.
yon's sunny lips.
Back of all the great black rocks,
decked with messy bits and clinging
things, glistened cool and moist be-
tween the parting trees. From many
an oozy nook the dainty clematis and
columbine shook out their bells, and,
lower down, from beds Of many colored
moss the late wind flower and maiden
hair and tiny violet lifted up brave,
sweet faces. And through the canyon
the Little Swan sang Its song to rocks
and flowers and overhanging trees, n
song of many tones, deep booming
where 1t took Its first sheer plunge, guy
chatterlng where 1t threw itself down
the ragged rocks and soft murmuring
where 1t fingered about the roots Of the
loving, listening Gins A cool, sweet,
soothing place 1t was, with all its
shades and sounds and silences, and.
lest 1t should be sad to any, the sharp,
quick sunbeams danced and laughed
down through all its leaves upon moss
cs, flowers and rocks. No wonder that
the Pilot, drawing deep breath us h.
touched the prairie sod again, said:
THAT does me good. 1t is better at
times even than the sunny hills. This
was Ovens best spot"
l saw that the canyon hnd done its
work with him. His face was strong
and calm as the hills on summer
morning, and with this face he looked
in upon Gwen. 1t was one Of her bad
days and one Of her bad moods, but like
q summer breeze he burst into the lit
tie room.
ooh. Gwen" he cried, without
word of greeting, much less of COM
miseration, I'VE have had such rideW
And he spread out tho sunlit, round
topped hills before her till could feel
their very breezes in my face. This
the Duke had never dared to do, fear
ing to grieve her with pictures of what
she should look upon no more. But as
the Pilot talked, before she knew,
Gwen was out again upon her beloved
hills breathing their fresh, sunny air,
filling her heart with their multitu-
dinous delights till her eyes grew bright
and the lines Of fretting smoothcd out
Of her face and she forgot her pain.
Then, before she could remember, he
had her down into the canyon. feasting
her heart with Its airs and sights and
sounds. The black, glistening rocks,
tricked Cut with moss and trailing
vines the great elms and low, green
cedars, the oaks and shiverfng pop
lars, the clematis and columbine hang
ing from the rocky hooks and the v1o-
lets and maiden hair deep bedded in
their MOSES.
All this and far more he showed her
with a touch SO light us not to shake
the morning dew from bell or leaf or
frond, and with voice SO soft and
full of music US to fill our hearts with
the canyons mingling sounds, and as
l looked upon her face said to my
self, Dear old Pilot, for this shall
always love you WE'LL" AS poor Gwen
listened the rapture Of 1t drew the big
tears down her checks, alas, no longer
brown, but white, and for that day ct
least the dull, dead WEAKNESS was
lifted from her heart.