The Republican. [volume] (Oakland, Md.) 1877-current, 1908-01-30
OUT OF
The PAS
- =. - =, 80 - = - =
Copyright, by Joseph 3. Bowles.)
BY GENEVIEVE HAYS

is perfection calls my pretty wife.
l drop the unopened paper in my
easy chair with a backward toss of
my cigar case to keep it company,
then run down the piazza steps to
join her standing there with her
misty white draperies blown about
her, and the rays OF the setting sun
touching her soft blonde hair till it
CLOVIS like an aureole
Look" she cries dramatically.
And this is what I see: Over a
delicate trellis. beautiful as a frozen
dream. CLEAN clusters of snowy white
passion flowers. breaking through the
artistically interviewer green of the
foliage like poisoning stars.
Have blossom, papa cries the
autocrat Of our household, hurriedly
breaking a cluster from the vine and
reaching it to me from his diminutive
height Of three summers.
The odor from the dcadly-white
blossoms sends a thrill, chill TO my
heart. | stand looking stupidity down
at the cluster baby has placed in my
passive hand.
why, Dick. cries Madge, laying a
hand on either arm and looking at me
anxiously. what is the matter? Per
haps it is the perfume from these flow
ers-it is poison to some people
With a hasty apology | put my wife
and child from me and return to the
house, still carefully holding the spray
of white passion flowers in my hand.
seat myself and look away from
them for the first time The sun is
dipping below the horizon and sending
out long, quivering rays of light that
reach to the big oaks standing senti-
mel over our gateway.
Out of the purple depths of the sum
ner cleaning this picture looms up
before my eyes: semi-southern
woods lighted by the simmer and
play of moonbeams. and floating
sparkles Of fire-fies; a mountain road
with a splendid horse and rider just
emerging into the moonlight-the
horse swinging slowly along his
glossy chest flecked with foam, his
arched neck bowed and the long black
name sweeping downward the rider,
lissome and young, with a supple grace
in her rounded arms which the close
fitting jacket of black velvet reveals
TO perfection
Forever l shall remember her, The
y P,iaGy eyes with their hints of tropic
splendor, the white passion flowers
against her velvet bodice, and the soft
moonlight just touching her face; and
under heaven or earth there is no light
so softening or Identifying TO q
woman's face as moonlight
With this face still haunting me,
eat my supper in the lonely inn OF the
rather ore-dead-than-alive little town
on that same evening and listen to the
garrulous talk Of my obsequious host
Il met a pretty girl on the noun
tain road as | came in this evening,
l say, at length; wonder who she
was?'
My host regards me Contemplatively
through a ring of tobacco smoke.
"Ridin big black horse" he
queries
! nod assent
Jess so, he says, meditatiycly; She
has been offered 5000 for that horse
and won't sell him. There isn't his
match in the state-can run like light
ring, and the fence isn't made that he
would stop at. Don't mind a soul but
her, neither continues the man. wax
ing eloquent, there isn't place short
of heaven that he wouldn't go if she
called him. Why. stranger. one day
when the Fork was up, and nothing
but back water from hill to hill. | saw
that horse plunge in amidst all that
floating timber and driftwood and
swim clean to the other hill at just
one word from her."
But who is She" question.
lie regards me in much the same
manner that you would comparative
ly well-informed person that had JUS
asked you who Adam was.
"Maurise shelby" he at length an
swers, shortly.
She lives hc1r?"
Half mile up the Fork, to 10
right, in a big, ruinous Old house. IT q
used to be the finest plantation Oh e
Fork and Col. Shelby the most = u
lar man. But times are changed. he
colonel lost his life in the late war
he was as brave a man, sir. as ever
wore the gray. His daughter has all
his piucky spirit. Pity $40 were not
his son. She lives all &.one in that
old house along with hel fathers sis
ter and invalid husband Hard to
come down to poor folks w. after
once being rich, but you never heard
Shelby complain. Maurisc las had
many a chance to better h. condi.
tion--rich fellows at that aut thew
B all get the same answer. She don't
take much to strangers, cit, II. North.
eIner' you wouldn't stand d chance,
sir They buried her hear. with her
father poor lass! and all r.4 love she
has 10 give is for the south"
A few weeks later, whcn the wood.
land hills are blu.hing req with shame
at their departing gloric5 and there
is a spicy breath of an INN in the
air, ! again stop at thu little village
an my return homo apl cool ,,,,y TO-