Year: 1871

ucpluS VI tuC plhSy NooNoi i"ii he'ie
maiden built mimic HOUSES with corn
stalks and cobs, and made "mud pies
during all the happy days of childhood
and blossomed out into beautcous wo
manhood in the same secluded spot.


During childhood a stray magazine
sometimes found its way into her hands
and again at times she had the rare good
fortune to read the works of some OF our
sweetest poets, and though unskilled in
the ways Of the world and as ignorant as
she we'll could be, our little damsel pos
sessed keen relish for poetry.


But more prizeds than book Of poetry,
or magazine, because more often obtain
ed and more easily understood, was a
city Sunday paper, the columns of which
always contained gems from the pen of
one of the most graceful verse writer's of
the day.


Never in all her life had Elsie had the
good fortune to lay eyes on man or wo
man who could write a line of poetry, or
prose either for that matter To her un-
tutored mind, the man who could write
such beautiful lines as Crescent wrote
for the Sunday paper that her father sub
scribed for, must be glorious being,
indeed, and hut little below the gods in
personal appearance.


When Elsie was about seventeen, her
parents moved to the city, and new life
opened before the awkward little country
girl. One side Of double house was
taken up town, and the family proceeded
to make themselves comfortable, but saw
little Of their neighbors Of the other half
Of the house,


One evening Elsie was shyly peeping
out into the street, when she heard re-
mark that set her blood Ga fire with ca
ger expectation. GA


der what he will have in to morrow's pa.
per? Something sweet, | know"


Lets make him come in and sit
awhile, | know he must be lonesome at
homc,' and then came clamor of wei
coming voices as {" Crescent approach
ed.


Poor Elsie was Overpowercd. There
was the godlike being who wrote poetry
within few feet of her, but she had not
the courage to look at him, so she crept
away into the house with feeling ofawe
upon her, that such a great being was SO
close at hand.


Presently she heard his voice courte.
ously bidding the lively young ladies
good evening, and Oh, merciful Provi-
dence !'he was going in on the other side |!
Could it be possible that he lived in
there! Yes, it must be so, for he was
walking through the rooms with the Ia
miiar air Of master, and then began a
series of vigils on Elsie's part.


Day by day she watched to catch q
glimpse of I" Crescent and then would
she run when she heard him open the
door to 60 out.


At last, by close watching, she discov.
cred that he used little back room more
than any other, and she determined TO
see his sanctuary, unknown to any one
Awaiting herself of his absence one day.
she managed to make little hole in the
thin pnrtitioned WALL through which she
could peep unobscrved. 4IoI


Her eagerness was at last to be reward
ed her desire gratified. lie came in late
one evening and she heard him busying
himself about his little room as usual
Climbing to her post Of observation, she
placed her eye to the hole and almost
tumbled backward at the sight that met
her gaze.


The god like being was cooking his
dinner. And such cooking! lie first
took down frying pan and looked
round for dish-rag to wipe it with.
Finding none he drew from his pocket a
handkerchief that did not rival the snow
by any means, and cleaned the pan with
it to his own satisfaction, and then tum-
bled into it piece Of beef. A handful
of red peppers and an onion went in next.


But what Mortified her most OF all was
his unmitigated slovenlncss of dress, and
his frequent recourse to big black bot
tie that stood on the table. the smell OF
which told too plainly what it contained


Her curiosity was satisfied. She had
no desire for further Investigations and
panied and disappointed beyond expires.
sion, she climbed down again, fully sat.
isfed with the view she had obtained Of
"the man who wrote for the papers"


"All the writer's and editors Of papers
drink, my dear they are compelled to do
50 to enable them to write WE'LL" said an
old lady to whom Elsie had been re-
counting her delusion.


"Then shall never marry an editor
or writer sighed Elsie turning to gaze
wistfully out Of the window for one
whom she had learned to regard with
more than a passing interest.


Her father, who happened to ovcrhear
her remark, looked up with smile.


" SO you won't marry an editor, little
one What if he should be handsome
and gallant, graceful and good p ,.
No, never" she said, with q shiyer
Of disgust, " but what can make your
young friend so late to nighti" I'D.


"My young friend may be detained on
business" answered her father, still smil
ing " but there he is now" rising and
advancing to meet noble specimen OF
manh oed, who Just then entered the gate.
r., him Elsia axtauisd a snillnu oroat. /.