The Idaho Springs siftings-news., 1919-08-08

seven o'clock the mare and l started
again, well fed and eager to go on.
| It was q 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 cornfiowers
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, bluebirds.
warblers, wrens. and far away in the
edge of spruce thicket l heard the
flute of the white-throated sparrow.
| I bathed at brook in the woods
and put on clean silk shirt and tie
out Of my saddlebags. 1 rode SLOWLY
then to the edge of the village of Can
ton and turned at the bridge and took
the river road, although l had time to
spare. How my heart was beating as
1 neared the familiar scene! The
river slowed its pace there, like a dis
cerning 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 pine, but where was
my lady7 I dismounted and tied my
| m a p a lynd af atoy~ IA
lacked twenty minutes to eleven. She
would come-I had no doubt of it.
washed my hands and face and neck
in the cool water. Suddenly I heard
a voice I knew singing: Barney
Leave the Girls Alone" I turned and
saviour mother. my son. (These
last lines were dictated to his son.)
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 a tone of
playful seriousness:
young man, why have you come
here?"
ITO get you" answered.
| "What do you want of mel" She
was looking at her face in the water.
| II want to marry you," I answered
bravely.
| Then you may help me ashore II
you please. l am In my best, white
slippers and you are to be very care
full"
Beautiful She was the spirit of
the fields of June then and always.
l helped her ashore and held her In
my arms and, you know, the lips have
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 me?"
she whispered.
"As soon as possible, but my pay ia
only sixty dollars a month now"
1--WE shall make it do" she an.
swered. "My mother and father and
| your aunt and uncle and the Jackets
| and the minister and a number of our
| friends are coming In fleet Of boats"
1--WE are prepared either for picnic
| or a wedding" was the whisper OF
Kate.
Lets make 1t BOTH" I proposed 70
Sally.
"Surely there couldn't be a better
place than here under the big pine
| it's so smooth and soft and shady"
said she.
"Nor could there be better day OF
better company" I urged, for was
not sure that she would agree.
The boats came along. Sally and
waved a welcome from the bank and
she merrily proclaimed:
Its to be a wedding"
Then a cheer from the boats, In
which Joined.
I shall never forget how, when the
company had landed and the greetings
were over, Uncle Peabody approached
your mother and said:
"Say, Sally, I'm goin' to plant kiss
on both O. them red cheeks O. yours.
an do it deliberate. too"
He did it and so did Aunt Deel and
old Kate, and I think that, next to
your mother and me, they were the
happiest people at the wedding.
There Is a lonely grave up in the
hills-that of the stranger who died
long ago on Rattleroad. One day ]
found old Kate sitting beside it 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 in silence while 1 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 soni Yet, so 1t happened,
and the old wives will tell you the
story up there in the hills.
The play ends just as the night Is
falling with Kate and me entering the
little home, so familiar now, where she
lives and is ever welcome with Aunt