Catoctin clarion. [volume] (Mechanicstown, Md.) 1871-1940, 1915-11-04
LOVE THAT LIVES
BY WILLIAM L. VISSCHER.


than half the age of the major.
Toward the end of a specially good
cigar the major had sat for some min
utes, lost to the world"-apparently
Major, I'll bet horse that you are
thinking this minute, of some prehis-
toric love affair. All! you sly old pi-
rate!"
Arthur, boy, you like me, don't
you?" queried the major, in voice
full of pathos and touched with solici-
tude.
Who does not, major, that knows
you?"
well, I'm glad of that. You are
just the kind of friend like to have.
You are fond of me without having
any very good reason for it.
"In this way you remind me of q
sweetheart l had once-got her yet,
as to that. But her husband and are
friends.
often she and I call each other
Honey which is a common express
sion of friendly affection in the South,
where we both came from.
"Now it may seem funny to you, but
that little woman doesn't know that I
am homely."
as she blind?" the younger man
promptly and bluntly asked.
"Of course she's blind. Blind as q
bat, and yet her eyes are as good as
anybody's. She is simply living ex-
emplification of the trite old saying
that love is blind.
"Tll tell you Just how it was, and
I'll test your credulity right at the
start. Make you smile, too.
~ was handsome boy.
Gee! but you do laugh, don't you?
And yet had tried to prepare you for
it. Well, l was handsome. That sweet
heart Of mine and l grew up to love
each other, just naturally, and in fact
we didn't know 1t until too late.
when the war came l went. Be-
fore the storm of patriotism was over,
great, big man, who was not nearly
so practically patriotic-or idiotic-as
l was, came along there and told my
sweetheart things that I had not
thought to tell her. Moreover, he was
accommodating gold while I was not
gathering anything more substantial
than glory, but l was fairly windrow-
ing that. It has melted like the snow
forts of boyhood.
"Those who had the direction Of her
ways directed her toward him and he
gathered her in. He has her yet.
After the storm went down, strange
as it may seem, there was no calm for
me-perhaps there was too much
calm
"At first I frequently saw my old
sweetheart, then came long spells
when | didn't see her at all. At last
it dawned upon my opaque heart and
brain that l was in love with that lit
tie woman, and always had been.
Sometimes l thought I would try to
steal her. But thought better of 1t,
and she-Heaven bless her!-wouldnt
have thought of it at ALL
II did the next worst thing, how
ever. I told her that loved her, al
utter astonishment, dismay, and hap
piness, thereby perplexing me more
than ever, she confessed-that she had
loved me in the old days, and-but
she loves her husband.
"The other day was telling her that
she was the only woman l had ever
loved and that she was always q
pearl. She said:
"'You're a dear old fellow, but you
must not talk that way
"'Oh! That's all right said. I
am old and homely enough to be
privileged character
"She leaned over, her elbows on
the marble between US, hands to her
face, and looked searchingly and in
quiringly into my eyes. Then as II
deeply bewildered and amazed, she
said:
moo! Are you homely, Honey?
"'Yes, indeed, picturesquely homely.
Don't you see that am old, and wrin-
kled, and bald, and STOPPING, and lame,
and querulous, and fidgety, and
mo she exclaimed, I only see my
gallant boy sweetheart, and his pa
tient, knightly, hidden soul. remem-
her the flash of your sword in the sum
light that morning when, as the boy
captain that you were, marching with
your men to the war, you saluted the
cheering village girls in passing. The
CLEAN of that blade has always kept
you and your eyes before me-
Say, my son, have clung to spar
amid the crawling canyons of the
ocean, until dashed breathless and un-
conscious upon long stretch of white
beach on an arid island of the seas; l
have faced the fierce siroccO and fore
most focal fire of battle, time and
again, and felt its fiery breath blow
back the brown locks that then were
mine; inspired by something whose
achievement might be borne to her,
have poured out stream of impas-
stoned eloquence before an audience
of heroes and statesmen, until they
climbed to chairs and tables yelling:
Old man, you're king!' But never
even in the deepest intensity Of any
instant at such times as these have l
had such satisfaction and triumph or
more of a yearning for more of life.
than when my old sweetheart leaned
over and said with the light of love in
her eyes and it's music in her voice:
Moo! Are you homely, Honey?"
San Francisco Argonaut.