Rensselaer Union, Volume 5, Number 36, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 29 May 1873 — SCISSORS. [ARTICLE]

SCISSORS.

We realized that the snows of January had melted and vanished under the influence of the February thaw. Far and near tidings came of streams -over-full and bridges swept away. The sere, yellow mcauows assumed a tint of just perceptible freshness as the sun lifted the shining veils of moisture from their surface; all things seemed preparing for the spring. St, Valentine’s Day dawned with a pink, cloudless sky, an air filled with summer warmth and balm; flocks of birds fluttered and chirped; the trees were alive with song, “"We shall pay for this," several people said as they shook their, experienced heads, But no shadow dimmed the radiant morning tq little Molly Gale, as she woke rom her .slumbers smiling like a child. And why should she hot smiley Long pink rays streamed through the blinds, and tinged the wall -opposite. A new day had begun —a day which was sure to he beautiful; and Molly, fortunately for herself, was neither old enough nor wise enough to comprehend that dreary alchemy which distills the atom of bitter from the ounce of sweet, and, groaning over the unpalatable drop, leaves the rest untasted and forgotten. “Valentine’s, Day,” she said, half aloud, as she smoothed the last long curl, and laid down her brush. “No chance for valentines here in the country, hut I’ll try j my fate out of the window, anyhow.” So, wrapping her dressing-gown closer, she went across the room, and opened the window. The curtains hung in long, heavy folds. She parted them, and, shutting Her eyes tight, said tile old rhyme: ‘Good St. Valentine, list to me; Dear St. Valentine, tet me see Who shall my future husband be." Three times she repeated the spell; then, popping her pretty head out, she opened her eyes wide. At .first, half blinded by the dazzling day, sire saw nothing; Then a figure became visible a long way oil' up the road. “There really is somebody,” thought Molly, with a certain surprise. A passerby was not by tiny means a thing of course iu that quiet region. Her. curiosity was aroused. —; — “llow funny he looks!” she meditated. “What’s that lie’s got with him? —a bicycle? No, I don’t think he’s a bicycle.' Wlmt is it? He’s coining directly here, too.” She watched the advancing form with a little heart-beat, as it drew nearer. “Good gracious!” cried Molly, with a scream of laughter, “it’s a scissorsgrinder!” And she drew in her head with a pout and a flush of comical vexation. St. Valentine was evidently out of his reckoning for once. “Scissors!” cried a voice, a loud, gay voice, wltli a decided lllt}sriiifiii Wcelil. Flic wheel had stopped beneath the winlow. “Any scissors to grind, ma’am, or Knives, or razors!” went on the man, craning his neck to catch a glimpse of the face above him. “Put an excellent edge on ’em, ma’am, and charge most raisonable. Pray give employment to the poor man, my lady.” Molly could just'see the top of liis head; the voice amused her. “After alt,” she said to herself, with a pettish shrug, ‘TrTsnT the poor man’s fault.” “Wait, a moment, nmlA will see if there is anything,” she callecrbttt, and downstairs she ran. “Aunty,” tapping at the door, “didn’t you say you wanted your shears sharpened, and the carving-knife? Well, there’s a scissors-grinder below who will do them.” “You are very thoughtful, Molly. Yes, there are several things. Here they are,” half opening the door. “Will you take them down to the man, for I’m not dressed? Why, dear me, your’e in your dressing-gown yourself, Molly—” “So I am—l forgot—but never mind, aunty, it’s good enough for a scissorsgrinder. I don’t believe he’ll he shoeked in the least,” And indeed there was very little to shock a .scissors-grinder, or “any other man,” in the dainty peignoir of blue flannel with its pinked ruffling and open front, revealing a glimpse of snow-white petticoat. A more becoming costume could scarcely have been devised. Perhaps our little maiden was aware of the fact. The grinder hail taken up his position "'■'BITCH6 front steps. -r — —- “Here,” said Molly, opening the door, “my aunt would like these put in order. And please he careful ot the carver.” Two qaughty dimples- came into her checks as she thus confronted her unlikely Valentine; and the voice trembled slightly with secret laughter. He was a young man, and very good-looking, and now she saw him closer. “Arrah, miss, the howly saints reward ye!”, The Irish tone was so very broad that it sounded like a farcical' imitation. Molly could not refrain from smiling; and a glint of mischief appeared in the grinder’s eye as lie watched the effect of his speech. “Bedad,” he went on,“this needs attention scvarely.”

The wliecLwas now revolving rapidly; but the man seemed to have his eyes for his employer as well as his work Jc was neatly dressed, and his.hands seemed to Molly strangely white and well kep.' the hands ot a working man. In a wonderfully short time the job was done. “Have you far to go to-day?” asked Molly, as the grinder handed her the last article. “A good way, ma’am.*’ “Then,” she said, kindly, “perhaps you would like a glass of milk and something to eat. My 7 aunt’s servant will bring it buffo you, if yoh wbiißFT’~~ “You arc vdrv kind,” began the grinder, in good English and a courteous tone. Then he seemed to struggle with a desire to laugh. “The saints have you in kaiping, miss,” lie went on, relapsing rapidly into Irish'; “but never mind the bit or sup. It’s nothing I’m naiding the morn, but. just to thank yc for your favors, and be ass.” He shouldered Ms wheel and set otf at a rapid • rate, while Molly was fumbling with her purse. “Stop!” she cried after him; “stop a minute please, I haven’t paid you.” But the man only lifted his liat’ and passed through the gate. It was gracefully done —“like a gentleman,” Molly thought, and she wondered more and more. “Such a droll man,” she said afterward, at breakfast; “he wouldn’t wait for liis money, and took his hat ofF to me like a young prince. I wish you had seen him, aunty.” “il’m,” replied Mrs. Gale, meditatively. “It would have been more to the purpose had he put. a good edge on the carver; I don’t like the looks of it at all, Molly.” In effect it proved hopelessly dull, as did everything else submitted to the .gentlemanly grinder. Of course Molly had to endure some teasing on the subject. She bore it with a good grace, and a* weeks passed by the subject was forgotten, or, if remembered at all, only by herself. The spring was advancing. It -proved an early one. Violets starred garden beds bv the first of April.; hawthorn hedges blossomed into.smiles to greet incoming May; the early roses crowded on their buttoned-up buds, and flushed with bloom. It was impossible to resist the sudden summer-tide of all things. Nobody prated of rheumatism, or preached prudence. Old and young alike flung caution to the winds, arid, as if intoxicated by the fragrant air, ignored dews, sat on the fresh grass and committed all other imprudences. By the middle of June a picnic had been proposed and organized. Such parties were unusual even in quiet Wooilbury, hut the oldest inhabitant could not recollect one so early in Ike season. Of course Molly was to go. What could a picnic in Woodbury be without her? Her sweet temper, pretty, merry face, and deft lingers made her a universal favorite. No one knew the wild, beautiful forestnooks so well, no one comprehended so perfectly the due admixture of salad and lemonade, or had such a trick of decking an impromptu table tastefully with ferns and flowers. Of course Molly must go. And it was while in the midst of some dainty outdoor housewifery that a stranger was brought up for introduction, and “Miss Gale” had to look up from her oak wreaths and frost cakes to courtesy to “Mr. Conrad.” A pair of dark eyes met hers with a sudden amused, glucl recognition, which perplexed and mystified her. “Where have I seen him before?" she thought again and again, as the day wore on with its lively alternations of luncheon, laughter and flirtation. But no answer occurred, and the new arrival followed her movements with a devotion which caused some teasing from the other girls, and not a few jealous pangs among the young men. “It’s a .case of see and conquer,” whispered her friends among themselves, hut neither with surprise nor envy; for Molly was a belle in her little set, and none disputed her pretty supremacy. Mr, Conrad hud come to Woodbury on business, it seemed. He did not specify its nature, and no one could guess it; it evidently absorbed little of his time, but week after week lie lingered in the village, and, as “business” was by no means the specialty of the place, his errand was a subject of great speculation among the gossips. Young, good-looking, and much of a gentleman, he was universally accepted and liked. Molly met him here, there, and everywhere, ami their intimacy grew with great strides; Before a month waspver she felt that she had known him always—a fact which puzzled her not a little whenever she took tmxo to think about it, Still the resemblance which had struck her at first pursued and haunted her. It was not his' face only—voice and form were alike familiar; all suggested somebody, for her life she could not tell whom. Twenty times she was on the point of speaking of it, and twenty times refrained. “It was so ridiculous,” she said to herself. At last explanation came. It chanced on a picnic. Woodbury Was foment sforits picnics-—This—was held ill the same beautiful, grove where she and Mr. Conrad had first met in early June. The day was hot and brilliant. Goldcnrod anil purple aster fringed the paths; an August sky blazed through the tree-tops; summer, gathering her last blossoms in her lap, seemed hastening to be gone. Dinner was over; people were lying under trees or wandering about in groups; Molly "and 'Mr. Conrad found themselves alone in a secluded nook. “Do you know,” she. said, breaking a long pause, “I’ve been so troubled all this time to find out who it is you remind me of? I saw it the moment you were introduced to me; and, if it hadn’t been impossible, I should certainly have declared that, we had met before. Isn’t it funny?” “Well*” replied Mr. Conrad, slowly, "not—so —funny —perhaps—as you think. I should like—may I? Molly, will you listen while I tell you a long story? I have longed to utter it for days past, but till now I never dared." “Certainly,” said Molly, coloring. He never called her Molly before. “It was about a young man,” continued Mr. Coarail—“u wild young feUow, full of fim aud froHc, who never stonped at anything that promised a good joke. “There was a young lady, too, as it happened—a sort of cousin or his—as wild as himself. She was sent, for her sins, to boarding-school—a very strict school. It was at P , not far from here.” v “The convent?” asked Mollie, wondering. ‘ “Exactly. Well, my young lady wrote home all srirts of droll accounts of her prison house. She told all her trials and adventures, and made pen-and-ink caricatures of die Lady Superior, whom she dubbed ‘The Dragon;’ in short, so comical that her brothers and cousins, and two or three young men who were inmates of the house, and so privileged, Used to roar oyer the and look for, their coming

as the best jokes. At last a ridiculous plan was ■ started between them. Adele (that was the young lady) had defied them to insert even so mueh as one of their noses, into the strictly-guarded domain. It was decided that one of them should go in disguise and attempt the experiment. They laid a wager about it, and drew lots. The lot fell to the cousin. “The disguise he pitched upon was that of a ‘scissors-grinder.’ No, please don’t speak” (Molly had given a little jump); “Let me finish my own way.” “So, carrying his wheel, this young fellow started off up country. Part of the bet was that lie should go on foot, and return the same way. He had all sorts of odd experiences, and about noon the second day reached the convent. “His wheel and liis Irish brogue gained him admission at the gate. Adele had been in a measure prepared for liis coming. She recognized him at once, and considered it the greatest fun in the world. So the little witch ran around and collected all the knives and scissors in the house, and gave her intimate-friends the cue, and pretty soon the grinder was surrounded by a bevy of gins, some in the secret, some not, but all catching the excitement with a sort of freemasonry peculiar to school. Leave had been asked of the principal, of course, and obtained without difficulty. Nobody minds a scissorsgrinder, you know!” Molly's eyes laughed, but she did not speak. “I hope,” went on Mr. Conrad, “that those scissors were well sharpened, but I can’t feel as sure as I should like to. But I know there never was a droller hour til an that which this ‘needy knife-grinder’ had with those girls. The secret got out and the whole school collected. The flirts peeped out of the windows, and made eyes; the demure pretended not to understand ; the little ones danced and giggled When all the steel in the house hail been sharpened (or dulled) the witches ran to the Lady Superior, and asked permission to give ‘the poor man’ something to eat, ‘He looked so tired—and worked so hard.’ Oh, if you coukl have seen him solemnly consuming sandwiches, with those forty girls looking on, anil the head witch Adele assuming her airs of a hostess at a dinner partv! “Well, lie got safely off and made liis way to Woodbury, where lie staid over night. The next morning, as he was passing down the street, he caught sight of a face at the window of a pretty country house. It may have been the face—it may have been the mischief in hint; anyway, Tie stopped and begged for work, aiid pretty soon out of the front door stepped a figure —a little figure in blue—ah, Molly, I needn’t go on! You have guessed my riddle. You know the little figure proved a magnet to draw him again to Woodbury, and keep him lingering there in hopes the day might come when, the story told, and the disguise forgiven, the ex-scissors-grinder might speak in his own name, and ask if there was any hope for him; any hope that the little maid in blue coukl consent to overlook spoiled shears and dull Carver, anil make him happy for life. Is there! Won’t you speak, dear?” After considerable- hesitation, Molly said, a little confused on her own part; “Da you know that was St. Valentine’s morning on which you came? I had just repeated the old rhyme, and put my head out of the window to look for my future husband, when I saw you and your wheel far up the road!” “Oh, clever St. Valentine,” laughed Mr. Conrad. “So, for once, scissors didn’t cut love, Molly ” ! -• . ' ■ • . “No,” said Molly, blushing sweetly. “There is a prettier saying than that about scissors, you know. Their meaning is, we part to meet again.” I leave the reader to imagine Mr. Conrad’Creply. *