Cheyenne record., 1917-03-22
By SAMUEL MCCOY
(copyrisht. isl6. b. Bobhs- Merrill Coz

vid and Toinette, fingered on, they
knew not why, under the moon.
drenched trees.
"And now" she said. leaning
toward him in the moonlight, "tell
me how you like Corydon-as much
as you know of u.s."
He was SO happy at seeing her that
1t was easy for him to fall into her
own lghtness of speech.
"Ah, fell in love with America
years ago-on the day reached Cory
don. Now I am only bothered to
know If America likes me-" e.,
"Why, of course she likes you-look
what she has done for you already"
Her glance rested on his healthy,
vigorous form approvingly.
"Yes; but her favors -reproach me
now; am afraid can never accom-
plish what this country expects Of her
young men,"
She pretended to look at him
thoughtfully. mo. don't suppose
you can ever climb very high" She
laughed teasingly. "How do you like
your work." -
'Selling toys to the Indians and
laces to the ladies? Not very roman
tic" .lr
II should think the ladies would be
romantic, even If the Indians are not.
"Oh, but they all want soldiers;
I'm only a weaver by trade"
"That reminds me-you've never
told me about your life in England.
10 hut kaIl
you myself" She half closed her
eyes and began reflectvely:
LET me see-I'm looking into the
past. You may not know it, but I'm
real Irish soothsayer." She let the
ghost of a delicious bit of brogue lin
ger on her tongue. "Tm beginning to
see your ancestral estates now. Gra-
cious, a ducal palace takes shapeW
'aThere's no doubt about your being
ar Irish soothsayer," David COM
mented. sarcastically, "the ducal
castle was certainly there, but unfor-
tunately it belonged to the duke Of
Newcastle. Our ducal castle was be-
hind st. Johns palace in Bottle lane;
it had one room in it and no floor"
'"That's nothing to be ashamed Of
half the cabins in the, woods here are
no larger, and their floors are earthen
too"
"Ah, but every settler here has as
much land as the duke of Newcastlel
Air to breathe. freedom"
"You Interrupted me-be quiet, or
I won't finish. You idled about the
estate all day long or you rode over
the countryside with your hounds"
His name was Timon, that one
mongrel of mine; he had friends
who lived on him-I beg your par
dom"
"Horrorsl VIII you be quletl And
at night you lay on silken cushions In
front of the great fireplace, reading
some tale of the court" 6
II know it was wrong, but one is
naturally idle after twelve hours at
the loom. I did read a good deal
with Harry White" 4,
"Who was Hurry Winter" 81
"Harry White was my best friend.
Henry Kirke. White-the son of Mr..
White. the butcher. He was just my
own age. We, worked together at ia
stocking loom when we were fourteen,
making stockings, but the next year
his fntlier npprtnticed him to n firm
Of attorneys" "A
,"And you kept. on as a weaver?"
II kept on as weaver. But he.
lent me his books at night. He WAS
as poor as was, and he drove him
self into his grave with study, He
died when he was twenty-one, five
yeArs ago. But Mr.. Southey. the
poet laureate, collected all the poems
Harry had written"
"A poet2 A butchers son?' 4
"He had won a sizarship at Cam
bridge when he was nineteen-he had
got his first poems printed the year
before. That was how he attracted
Mr.. Southey's attention" a
"And he's dead! Oh, I'm so sorry"
"He told me once that, friend he
had made at Cambridge. q boy named
George Gordon, Lord Byron, said that
his poems would never die" Il
"He was a poet toop"
Il think so. He is living yet. Hes
only twenty-three." 4.
"Why, you're only twenty-six, your
self! Don't talk like a grandfather !"
Il feel like one."
"Why7"
The sympathy in her voice was as
sincere as that. in her eyes. David
had never known such n woman-had
never known what 1t was to have the
divine sympathy of womanhood. He
began to tell her of his life, Of his suf-
fetings, Of his hopes for the future,
Of his aspirations; and through 1t all
the girl listened, a white rose in the
moonlight, and poured the balm Of
her pure spirit upon his head.