Evening times-Republican. [volume] (Marshalltown, Iowa) 1890-1923, 1903-08-29

and took the Pilot in its grip. He rode
wonders in that storehouse of beauty.
Trees o. many kinds deepened the
shadows Of the canyon. Over US
waved the big elms that grew up here
and there out of tia bottom and around
their feet clustered low cedars and
hemlocks and balsams, while the
sturdy, rugged oaks and delicate; trem-
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 overhangfng trees, a
| song of many tones. deep booming
where it took its first sheer plunge, gay
chattering where 1t threw itself down
the ragged rocks and soft murnuring
where it fingered about the roots Of the
loving listening elms. A cool, sweet,
soothing place 1t was, with all its
shades and sounds and silences, and,
lest it should be sad to any, the sharp,
quick sunbeams danced and laughed
down through all its leaves upon moss
es, flowers and rocks. No wonder that
the Pilot, drawing deep breath as he
touched the prairie sod again, said:
THAT does me good. 1t is better at
times even than the sunny hills. This
was Owens best spot"
I saw that the canyon had done its
work with him. His face was strong
and calm as the hills on q summer
morning, and with this face.he looked
In upon Gwen. tt wassone of her bad
days and one Of her bad moods, but like
q summer breeze he burst into the lit
tie room.
"Oh, Gwen" he cried, without Z
word ef greeting. much less Of COM
rniseration, 1--WE have had such rider
And he spread out the sunlft, 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 grieye her with pictures Of what
she should look upon no more. Burt as
the Pilot talked, before she knew,
Gwen was out again upc 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 sm0othed out
Of her faca and she forgot her pain.
Than, before she canid remember. he
had her down into the, canyon, feasting
her heart with its airs and sights and
sounds. The black. clustering rocks,
tricked out with moss and trailing
vines, the great eflaS and low, green
cedars. the oaks and shiverfng pop
lars, the clematis and coiumbine hang
ing from the rocky hooks and the vfo-
let's and maiden hair deep bedded n
their moses.
All this and far more he showed her
with touch so light as not to shake
the morning dew from bell or leaf or
frond, and with voice SO soft and
full of music-as to ell our hearts with
the canyons minsltng sounds, and as
looked uros her face said TO my
self, Dear old Pilot. for this shall
always love you well" AS poor Gwen
listened the rapture of 1t drew the big
tears down her cheeks, alas. no longer
brown, but white, and for that day at
least the dull, dead WEAKNESS was
lifted from her heart
(To be continued)