The Topeka state journal. [volume] (Topeka, Kansas) 1892-1980, 1907-09-21
The EVENING STORY
Language of the Woods.
GBy Ethel Darlington. ]


was the breath of moist earth. the
pungent odor of cedar, green shoots
and wild pink azaleas. Below the call
of the robin came the purring of the
mountain stream a little to the left,
as it crawled over its stony bed, lap
ping tender MOSES on either side and
stirring ferns and tiny white violets
into active growth.
Eliza Jane, seated on a decaying
log, her feet deep in dry brown leaves,
was conscious of all this, though her
eyes and fingers were busy over the
writing pad resting on her knee. She
was writing verses. Back of her con-
seriousness was a little silent laugh at
the foolishness of such an occupation
for her, a staid teacher in a New
England school.
Ten years she had held the posi-
ton. Never in all that period had she
so wasted precious hours. 1t was as
if the past had been suddenly re-
called. A certain memorable day
spent in the Maine woods, seemed, by
reason of her present environment,
but yesterday; whereas, in truth, it
dated further back than the mono
tonous grind of school routine that
now enslaved her. The teacher salved
her self-respect for such a frivolous
impulse with the reminder that it was
vacation time. Work of any sort had
been prohibited, on pain of nerves, al
ready severely taxed, failing in the
coming winter
She had inscribed the title above
her effusion, in her neat, stiff writing:
LANGUAGE OF THE WOODS"
and the simple words, faulty enough
as poetry, were Illuminated with sin
cerity. The language of the woods,
unheard for years, now in different
section of the country came clear and
insistent as on that other holiday.
Again she caught the murmur of hope
in the swish of tall NAPLES. drowning
the sigh of regret among dark pines.
The bridal white of the dogwood rose
against cloudless sky. White, wind
swayed anemones, great purple violets
and creeping pologala, thrusting frail
heads high through decaying leaves
all spoke of imperishable youth and
love. A couple of lines in her little
verses brought a faint tinge of color
to Eliza James pale cheek
Amid lightning and hailstones. and
rain,
Came Loves kiss in the pine woods of
Maine.
She let them remain because, like
an echo of the language of which she
wrote, they seemed to belong here.
Presently the rhymes were completed, |
and dropping both pad and pencil in
to the basket that she had brought to
carry home such mountain treasures
as she might find, she rose and
stretched her arms with luxurious
abandon. 1t was wonderful to be free
from the cramp and irksome strain of
routine. She breathed long and deep
ly of the invigorating air.
81 wonder, Elias, do you too re-
member. but of course not-you're a
man. L don't myself except here
where one feels as If actually coming
alive again after being petrifed. I |
shall forget my dignity when GO
back. It's only the language of the
woods after all.'I
Eliza Jane laughed half regretfully.
should stir sentiment in her 1t was
the same town to which Elias Smith
had come after their MISUNDERSTANDING
ing, before they quite lost track of
each other Once, writing to her cous-
In. she casually inquired for her old
friend. But Mrs. Hart answered that
while she heard of numberless Smiths
she had yet to come across one called
Elias which, in her Judgment was a
mercy. since 1t was ugly name |
scripture or no scripture. Hence
when Eliza Jane accepted the invita-
ton she had done so confident she ran
no risk of meeting with her boy lover |
Catching sight. through the tangle !
of underbrush. of a glowing mass of |
azaleas. she pushed her way through |
eagerly filling her hands. From one
times higher up the mountain side |
som etimes dropping back but ALWAYS
adding to her blossoms When She
could carry no more. Eliza Jane paus-
and glossy black of a tanager caught
her eye and she held herself breath
less so as not to scare him away.
when the green tangle swallowed him
up. she realized her own fatigue and
retraced her steps to find her basket.
Search as she would she could not
come upon 1t. Back and forth she
walked. now climbing afresh the
rocky incline, now descending with
greater speed. At times stray bits Of
azalea. caught on alien shrubs made
her realize. with disgust, that she was
covering ground already trodden. Her
watch proved the hour late, dinner
would be over and her cousin anxious
at her nonappearance. OF small value
in itself, the basket could be easily re-
pla ced. but the little spinster did not
relish leaving her inspiration of the
woods TO the mercy of any stranger
passing that way. In the end She 1s,es
compelled to do So
Usually self-possessed. she STAN,
mered, while explaining her rnisfor
tune on her return. Her cousin
paused in setting the warmed &C.,
dinner before her, to express her dis
aAt your age. Eliza Jane. to take
to rhymes. You'd better stick 70 |
teaching. There's some use and more
should anyone find it." suggested
Eliza Jane, uneasily-
us your name on it? No? Then
they'd never lay such nonsense at
your door. A schoolma' am is not
supposed to be hanging verses about
the woods, like that young man wei