Rensselaer Republican, Volume 16, Number 45, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 17 July 1884 — Oysters on the Oregon Coast. [ARTICLE]

Oysters on the Oregon Coast.

The great demand for Puget Sound oysters for the past feyyears has drawn heavily on the beds near Olympia, which are rapidly becoming depleted, and unless something is done in the way of coring for and propagating oysters in that section but a few more year? will be required to the supply, and the famous Olympic oyster will be a thing of the past.

Twas the Sabbath. Just within the hall of the stately mansion stood a young couple. At a glance one could see that they were not married, yet the love-light that beamed in their eyes as they stood, she with both of her daintily gloved hands in his, showed that they were to each other more than mere friends. They had attended church that bright spring morning and as Harold Glenn sat by the side of Ethel Warde, or held with her her dainty hymn-book as her pure young voice rose to heaven in anthems of praise, his heart swelled with pride, for he knew that in less than one short month that beauteous being would be all his own, his to love and cherish. Yes, for two years they had been betrothed, and in all that time not one difference had arisen—not one harsh word had been uttered. “Good-by, Harold,” said shet, as she rested her head on his bosom and lifted the pouting red bps for a kiss, *|*good-by till this afternoon.” “Good-by, Ethel, good-by till] this—till to-night.” “Till to-night, Harold ? Till to-night did you say ?” “Ay, Ethel, good-by till to-night.” As the words fell on her ears a slight shudder shook the frail form, and she stepped back a pace and gazed straight into his eyes with a look in which anguish, love, and indignation all seemed to struggle for mastery. A moment she gazed and then she seemed to give way and burst into tears. Harold looked uneasily out of the window and plucked nervously at his watch guard, but one could see by the determined look on his face that his will could not easily be bent. For a moment the silence was unbroken. Then the girl spoke. “Harold, for two years we have been betrothed. In that time never have you spent a Sabbath afternoon away from me. In the chill winter we have sat and weaved debghtful fancies as we gazed into the glowing grate, and in the spring we have wandered, mid the flow-, ers, and told our love. Ay, for two years this has continued, Harold, and now you tell me you are not coming today. Have I done aught to offend you ?” “No Ethel,” muttered Harold in a husky voice. “In all this time, have I ever failed to show you by every means a woman can, that you possess my best and purest love ?” “No, Ethel, you have been everything that I could wish.” “Then, why this sudden change? Why do you thus take out of my life one of its brightest, happiest hours? Why will you not come?” “Ethel, I cannot; oh, I cannot come to-day. Forgive me. Do not think me cold, but I cannot. ” The love seemed to leave the girl’s face, and in its stead came a look of despair. 7 “Harold, your reason for this change ?” “Ethel, I cannot come. I—I,” and Harold bent his eyes to the floor and paused. “Well, you what? Go on, sir.” “I’m going to the ball game at the gark this afternoon. Fred Blend is poing to pitch.”— Evansville Argus.