ut on the course of love I will not dwell,
Or many an episode I'd have to tell.
'Tis hope and courage to the lover bring
A boldness strong as is the eagle's wing.
And Jo waxed bold, you know the reason why,
He had a cause his hope to justify;
Love progressed fast as ship with wind and tide,
Ere the snow flew Plet was a promised bride.
"Marry in haste and slow repent you say—
Courtships too quick are somewhat the same way?"
I thought not so, 'twas no ill-mated pair,
The father of Jo's worth was well aware:
Before the day on which our good luck came,
I knew his thoughts of Jo were just the same
As when the fickle maid began to smile—
In mining parlance, when we'd made our "pile."
A pair of good discerning eyes he had,
That looked quite through the soul of my poor lad;
He'd seen the worth behind rough garb and lot,
And what he'd seen a friendship true begot,
A generous heart within his bosom burned,
And friendship soon to admiration turned.
While Plet—I'll try my words not to repeat—
Had danced along love's path with willing feet,
The flamed barb was not a whit more slow
To reach her heart than it had been with Jo;
And thus before a year had slipped away,
The smitten pair had named a wedding day.
But ten months more was added to his life,
And Jo saw coming—Fortune and a wife.
What comfort 'twas to be no longer poor—
To know a wife of his need not endure
Such trial as oft he saw some miner's mate
In patient silence bear from morn 'til late.
Oh! Jo, I thought, was sure of happiness,
And haven fair and safe from storm and stress;
For thought of other ending I was loth,
My prayers for them were—May God bless you both!
A few short weeks our lives might be the same,
Of course we'd not deserted yet our claim,
'Twas necessary we remain until
Such time as would our obligations fill,
And while the drill was sent or the pick drove,
Like lusty weeds our expectations throve.
Then still and tranquil grew the autumn days;
Through hazy veils the trees began to blaze;
The mountain summits seemed to sleep and dream;
Of tawny richness was each lessened stream;
Transparent amber on the birches crept;
Orange and madder o'er the dwarf oaks swept:
Upon the maples, in ravine or dell,
A myriad shades of rose-carnation fell;
The aspen groves, a wonder to behold,
Strewed the dark rocks with leaves of paly gold;
Wherever bunch of height—fond foliage grew,
Each frosty night had set some splendid hue,
And far above, beyond the somber pines,
The wasted snow yet gleamed in argent lines;
On every slope and steep, afar and near,
A seal was set that marked a dying year;
The mountains glowed in endless, gorgeous dyes,
With pomp of woods and glory of the skies.