Iowa County democrat. [volume] (Mineral Point, Wis.) 1877-1938, 1908-10-15
What do you mean, Miss?'

they have human shapes, and are like
old men or boys. They watch treas
lures and veins of ore, and when NOR
ltals approach the mental, they deco!
the trespassers away
Like the lapwing that pretends II
be wounded, and so lures you from it:
Iprecious eggs. Do you believe il
lpixies?'
Eve laughed and shook her prett!
lhead. I think so, Mr.. Jasper, for
have seen one
What was he like?'
I do not know, l only caught gimp
Ises of him. Do not laugh satirically
ii am serious. | did see something
but | don't know exactly what saw.
That is not a very convincing rea
son for the existence of pixies
Eve drew her little feet together
and folded her arms in her lap, anG
smiled, and tossed her head She
had taken off her hat, and the sur
glorified her shining head.
Jasper looked admiringly at her.
Are you not afraid of a sunstroke
Miss Eve?'
o dear no! The sun cannot harm
me. I love him so passionately. Q
Mr.. Jasper I wish sometimes l lived
far away in another country where
there are no wet days and grey skies
| and muggy atmospheres, and where
the hedges do not drip, and the lanes
do not stand ankle deep in mud, and
| the old walls exude moisture indoors,
and ones pretty shoes do not go
mouldy if not wiped over daily.
should like to be in a land like Italy,
where all the people sing and dance
and keep holiday, and the bells in the
towers are ever ringing, and the lads
have punches of gold and silver flow
ers in their hats, and the girls have
scarlet skirts, and the village must
clans sit in a cart adorned with birch
branches and ribands and roses, and
the trumpets go tu-tu! and the drums
bung-bung!-I have read about it.,
and cried for vexatiOn that l was not
there
But the pixy?'
4 would Danish all pixies and black
Copplestones and Whish hounds; they
belong to rocks and mOors and dark
ness and storm. l hate gloom and iso-
lation'
You are happy at Morwell, Miss
Eve. One has but to look in your
face and see it. Not a grabbed line OF
care, not the track of a tear, all
smoothness and smiles
The girl twinkled with pleasure, and
said, That is because we are in mid
summer; wait till winter and see what
becomes of me. Then I am sad
enough We are shut in for five months
six months-seven almost, by mud
and water. o, how the winds howl!
How the trees toss and roar! How
the rain patters! That is not plea
SAINT. I wish, I do wish, I were a
squirrel; then l would coil myself i'll
a corner lined with moss, and crack
nuts in dOze till the sun came again
and woke me up with the flowers.
Then I would throw out all my
cracked nutshelIs with both paws, and
leap to the foot of a tree, run up it,
and skip from branch, and swing in
the summer sunshine on the tonmost
twig. 0, Mr.. Jasper, how much wiser
than we the swallows are! I would
rather be a swallow than a squirrel,
and sail away when l felt frost to the
land Of eternal summer, into the b1az-
ing eye of the sun
But as you have no wings
Z sit and NOPE and talk to Barbara
about COWS and cabbages, and to
father about any nonsense that comes
into my head
AS yet you have given me no de-
5cription Of the pixy.'
How can I, when I scarce saw him? |
will tell you exactly what happened, |
f you will not curl up the corner of J
your lips, as though mocking me )
That papa never does. I tell him all /
The rhodomontade I can, and he lis |
ems gravely, and frightens and |
abashes me sometimes by swallowing |
t whole
Where did you see, or not see, the
oixy?
On my way to you. I heard some
hing stirring in the wood, and I half
saw what took to be a boy, or
title man the size of a boy. When
stood still, he stood; when I moved,
ancied he moved. l heard the
'rackle of sticks and the stir of the
pushes. l am sure of nothing
Were you frightened?'
No; puzzled, not frightened. If this
lad occurred at night, it would have
,een different / thought it might
ave been a red-deer; they are here
ometimes, strayed from Exmoor, and
AVE such pretty heads and soft
yes; but this was not I fancied
nee I saw a queer little face peering
t me from behind pine tree. I
ttered a feeble cry and ran on
I know exactly what it was said
asper, with a grave smile. There
5 a pixy lives in the Raven Rock; he
as a smithy far down in the heart of
he cliff, and there he works all win
ar at a vein of pure gold, hammering
nd turning the golden cups and
marsh marigolds with which to strew I
he pastures and watercourses i'll
pring. But it is dull for the pixy