Connecticut western news., 1922-07-13

tender youth. You-the dear and gen. tie mother of my later boyhood-are entitled to know of my happiness when l heard that voice tell me in its sweet CT tone of the love which has endured through all these years of stern trial. We talked of our plans as we sat among the ferns and mosses in the cool shade sweetened by the incense of burning fagots, over that repast to which we shall be returning often for refreshment in poorer days. We had thought of you and of the man so we'll beloved of you and us in all these plans. We shall live in Springfield so that we may be near you and him and our friend, Honest Abe."'
 It is long letter presenting minute details in the history of that senti- ters which have no part in this record. Its substance being fully in the con- sciousness of the writer, he tenderly folds it up and returns it to the pack age-yellow and brittle and faded and having that curious fragrance of pa pers that have lain for scores of years in the gloom and silence of locked mahogany drawer So alive are these letters with the passion of youth in long forgotten years that the writer ties the old ribbon and returns them to their tomb with a feeling of sad ness, finding a singular pathos in the contrast of their look and their con- tents. They are turning to dust, but the soul of them has gone into this little history. -.*'
 The young man and woman mounted their horses and resumed their jour ney. It was after two o'clock. The Grand Prairie lay ahead of them. The, settlement of Plains End was twenty one miles away on its farther side. They could just see its tall oak trees in the dim distance. h
 we must hurry, If we get there before dark" said the girl Above all, we must be caEeful to keep our direction. It's easy to get lost down in the great prairie"
 They heard cat-bird singing in a near thicket as they left their camp. It reminded Bim of her favorite bal lad and she sang 1t with the spirit of old:
 My sweetheart, come along Don't you hear the glad song
 AS the notes of the nightingale flow? Don't you hear the fond tale of the
 sweet nightingale
 AS she sings in the valleys below? As she sings in the valleys below?'
 They went on, shoulder-deep in the tall grass on the lower stretches of the prairie. Here and there it gave Harry the impression that he was swimming his horse in noisy, vivid green water" They startled a herd of deer and a number of wild horses. When they lost sight of the woods at Plains End the young man, with his cavalry training, was able to ride standing on his saddle until he had 1t located.
 It reminded him of riding in the Everglades and he told of his adven- lures there as they went on, but very modestly. He said not a word of his heroic fight the day that he and Sixty of his comrades were cut off and sur rounded in the Hand of the grassy waters. But Bim had heard the story from other lips ss:Ess4 ...H,ssor.--
 Late in the afternoon the woods Ioofned in front of them, scarcely a mile off. Near the end of the prairie they came to a road which led them past the door of a lonely cabin. It seemed to be deserted, but its win dows were clean and faint column of smoke rose from its chimney. There were hollyhocks and suntiowers in its small and cleanly dooryard. A morn l ing-glory vine had been trained around the windows.
 Broad creek Is just beyond" said Bim "I don't know how the crossing will be-"
 They came presently to the creek, unexpectedly swollen. A man stood on the farther shore with some seventy feet of deep and rapid water between him and the travellers.
 "That man looks like Stephen Nuckles," said Harry.
 "It is Stephen Nuckles," Bim an- I swered
 "Howdy, steve!" the young soldier l called.
 i "Howdy. noy~" said the old minis