Wauwatosa news. [volume] (Wauwatosa, Wis.) 1900-1948, 1919-06-20

noorS. cUuiu Iake IL vogl then. AT
seven o'clock the mare ana [ started
again. we'll fed and eager to 20 on.
1t was summer morning that short
ems the road-even that of the young
lover. Its air was sweet with the
breath of the meadows. The daisies
and the. clover and the corntiowers
and the wild roses seemed to be way
ing a welcome to me, and the thorn
trees-shapely ornament of my native
hills--were in blossom. A cloud of
pigeons swept across the blue deep
above my head. The great choir of
the fields sang to me-bobolinks, song
sparrOws, meadowlarks, buebirds,
Warblers, wrens, and far away in the
edge Of a spruce thicket heard the
flute of the white-throated sparrow.
H 1 bathed at brook In the woods
and put on clean silk shirt and tie
out of my saddlebags. rode slowly
then to the edge of the village of Can
tea and turned at the bridge ard took
the river road, although had time to
spare. How my heart was beating as
l neared the familiar scene The
river slowed its pace there. like dis.
corning traveller, to enjoy the beauty
of its shores. Smooth and silent was
/ the water and In it were the blue Of
the sky and the feathery shadow-spireS
OF cedar and tamarack and the reflect
ed blossoms of iris and meadow rue
It was lovely scene.
There was the pi2e, but where was
my lady? / diSmounted and tied my
mare and looked at my watch. /,
lacked twenty minutes TO eleven. She
would GOMEZ had no doubt of 1t. l
washed my hands aud face and neck
n the cool water. Suddenly i heard
a voice ] knew singing: Barney
Leave the Girls Alone" | turned and
saviour mother. my son. (These
last lines We're dictated to his sony
She was in the stern of birch canoe.
all dressed in white with roses In her
hair. raised my hat and she threw
kiss at me. Old Kate sat in the bow
waving her handkerchief. They
stopped and Sally asked in tone of
playful seriousness:
Young man. why have You come
here?"
''To get you" / answered.
"Nyhat do you want of me?" She
VAS looking at her face in the water
II want to marry you" answered
hravely.
Then you may help me ashore II
you please nm in my best. waite
slippers and you are to be very care
full"
Beautiful She was the spirit OF
the fields of June then and always.
helped her ashore and held her Ia
my arms and, you know, the lips have
a way of speaking then in the old, con
vincing, final argument of love. They
left no doubt in our hearts, my son.
"When do you wish to marry met
she whispered.
"As soon as possible, but my pay il
only sixty dollars month now
ave shall make it do" she an.
swered. my mother and father and
your aunt and uncle and the Jackets
and the minister and number of our
friends are coming in feet of boats.
"We are prepared either for picnic
or a wedding" was the whisper OF
Kate.
Let's make it both." I proposed to
Sally.
Surely there couldn't be a better
place than here under tli,, big pine
it's so smooth and soft and shady"
said she.
Nor could there be d better day or
better company" / urged, for 1 Was
not sure that she would agree.
The boats came along. Sally and I
waved welcome from the bank and
she merrily proclaimed:
Its to be a wedding"
Then a cheer from the boats, in
which joined.
1 shall never forget how, when tho
compaL.' had landed ard the greetings
we're over, Uncle Peabody approached
your mother and said:
Say. Sally, I'm goln' to plant kiss
on both o. them red cheeks o. yours,
an do it deliberate. too"
He did it and so did Aunt Deel aud
old Kate. and I think that, next to
your mother and me, they were the
happlest people at the wedding.
There Is a lonely grave up In the
hllls-that of the stranger who died
long ago on Rattleroad. One day
found old Kate sitting beside 1t and on
stone lately erected there was the
name, Enoch Rome.
''It is very sorrowful," she whis-
pered. 'He. was trying to find me
when he died."
We walked on 10 silence while l re-
called the circumstances. How strange
that those tales of blood and lawless
daring which Kate had given to Amos
! Grimshaw had led to the Staying Of
her own sonl Yet, so it happened.
and the old wives VIII tel you the
story up there in the hills.
The play ends just as the night Ia