The St. Charles herald. [volume] (Hahnville, La.) 1873-1993, 1917-01-27

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 nghtness of speech.
"Ah, 1 fell in love with America
years ago-on the day reached Cory
don. Now I am only bothered to
know if America likes me-"
"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 I can never accom-
plish what this country expects Of her
young men,"
She pretended to look at him
thoughtfully. "No, I 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"
II should think the ladies would be
romantic, even If the Indians are not.
"Oh, but they all want soldiers;
I'm only weaver by trade"
"That reminds me-you've never
told me about your life in England.
Please do it now-but wait, I'll tell
you myself" She half closed her
eyes and began refectively:
"Let me see-Tm looking into the
past. You may not know 1t, but I'm
real Irish soothsayer." She let the
ghost of a delicious bit Of brogue lin
ger on her tongue. "Pm beginning to
see your ancestral estates now. Ora
cious, a ducal palace takes shape"
sThere's no doubt about your being
an 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
| 1t 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 Newcastle
Air to breathe, freedomI"
"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"
"Horrors! VIII you be quiet! And
at night you lay on silken cushions In
front of the great fireplace, reading
some tale Of the court"
81 know 1t was wrong, but one Il
naturally idle after twelve hours al
the loom. I did read a good deal
/ with Harry White"
"Who was Harry Winter"
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 9
/ stocking loom when we were fourteen
making stockings, but the next veal
| his father apprenticed him to a firm
OF attorneys"
"And you kept ON as weaverT
81 kept ON as a weaver. But III
lent me his books at night. He wa.
| as poor as was, and he drove him
| self into his grave with study. HI
died when he was twenty-one. fiv'
| years ago. But Mr.. Southey. thu
| poet laureate, collected all the poems
Harry had written"
| "A poet? A butchers son2"
|, aHe had won a sizarship at Cam
bridge when he was nineteen-he hat
| got his first poems printed the yea
before. That was how he attracted
Mr., Southey's attention"
sand he's deadl Oh, I'm so sorryl'
| "He told me once that friend h'
had made at Cambridge, boy namet
George Gordon, Lord Byron, said tina
his poems would never die"
sHe was a poet too?''
81 think so. He is living yet. He
only twenty-three."
| ,"Why, you're only twenty-six, your
self Don't talk like grandfather !!
II feel like one."
i @WhyT
/ The sympathy in her voice was a
sincere as that in her eyes. Davi'
had never known such woman-ha'
never known what 1t was to have IN
divine sympathy Of womanhood. ii
began to tell her of his life, Of his sui
ferings, of his hopes for the future
of his aspirations; and through it al
the girl listened, white rose In tn
moonlight, and poured the balm
her pure spirit upon his head.