DAISY SPRUCEWELL'S ROMANCE.

BORN and brought up in luxury as I had been, it was a sad shock to my sensibilities when papa was forced, by the pressure of financial difficulties, to relinquish his business and emigrate to California. He went very quietly, in order to avoid the pain of separation from his old friends, for, as he often remarked, he was a sensitive man. Even his creditors were grieved at his sudden departure. One of them, a very rough, profane man, whom you would never have suspected of tender sensibilities, is reported to have said that he would just like to get hold of old Sprucewell, Paradise receive him! Only he said something entirely different from Paradise: it was his bluff, honest way. But I wander a little from the purpose of this simple tale.

I am not handsome; let me confess so much at the outset: but I have been called pretty. Young Harry Thornberg, - who is married now; I never could endure him, though people said I hadn't the ghost of a chance, which, I take it, means the whole body of one, - he once remarked, when some one rallied him on his attachment for me, "A pretty wife she'd make!" His heart was touched, I know.

It was a heavy blow to me to leave the cultured society of Boston for a home on the boundless plains and perpendicular canons. Aren't canons very high? It was a humble home which we sought, a retired spot on the shores of the Pacific Ocean, where one could listen all day long to the sea's eternal hymn, with the plash of gold running from the veins of the mines for an accompaniment. But I digress.

The house was at the foot of a mountain, built of rough logs (that is, the house, not the mountain), and plainly finished in the Grecian style of architecture. Within were three apartments, two bedrooms and a parlor, in which latter room we did our cooking. I had purchased a gas-stove in San Francisco. This room had two windows, and between was a place just large enough for my Chickering grand, - a pleasant surprise from papa upon our arrival. We had no neighbors within twelve miles. Our one servant was a converted Indian. Instead of scalping after the ordinary manner of his tribe, he was content to appropriate to his own use small articles of value, and carry them to the nearest village in exchange for alcoholic fluid. He was a Christianized Indian. But let me proceed to other portions of my narrative.

The woods about our house were infested by numerous fierce and carnivorous brutes, but as one had never been seen on the premises, I grew very courageous, and often wandered beneath the arching trees, culling flowers, like Persephone on the Sicilian meads. But one day I strayed too far, alas! and found myself, not as I had supposed, within call of the mansion, but in unknown, unexplored forest depths. I called, but I could elicit no response. In dumb despair I hurried through unfamiliar paths, hoping to regain the clearing. In vain! Fate had ordained otherwise. Weary, helpless, I abandoned myself to my tears, and they did not desert me. I wept until I remembered that crying injured the complexion, and then I sat upright and looked about me. The sun was sinking in the west; my heart was sinking in my breast. (There! I never knew I was a poet before!)

Just then an ominous growl broke upon my ears. I trembled violently, and my teeth rattled with fear. There was a rustling in the bushes - I looked up - I saw a horrid great creature with switching tail and fiery eyes. I wonder that I did not faint; perhaps I had self-possession enough to recognize the uselessness of such a proceeding; nevertheless I was paralyzed with fear, for the gates of eternity seemed about to engulf me.

The creature advanced a few steps and growled. I had heard that the way to scare a lion (if this were a lion; the catamount, or American lion, probably) was to look him in the eye. I looked him in the eye, - sternly, unblushingly. I did more than this: I rose to the occasion, and cried, with a commanding gesture, "Go away, you horrid thing!" But the beast, misinterpreting my motives, with another terrible growl, sprang upon me and threw me to the ground. If I had not heard a voice near at hand at that very moment, I might have been devoured. It was a man's voice; and, so great was my presence of mind, even in these adverse circumstances, that I thought how decollete I must look, for the creature had sadly torn my garments and had split open one of my boots. I tried in vain to rise.

"Dang-ee, lay still while I shute!" said the voice, rather impatiently.

"I will; but please - pleaes don't look," I replied, ever mindful of my excellent bringing-up.

The loud report of the gun almost stunned me. How long I remained thus I cannot tell. I know that the huge animal, with a groan, rolled over in the dust beside me.

When I revived and sat up, I first saw my deliverer, - a simple lord of nature, a rough, grizzled man, who was leaning upon his weapon and contemplating the fallen animal; at the same time chewing vigorously, and, with native simplicity of spirit, firing tobacco-juice at the exact centre of a small pebble some twenty feet distant. I was overcome with emotion; but even then I was proper. I blushed, saying, "Excuse my unwonted appearance, kind sir; and will you take me home at once, for I wouldn't be found here alone with you for any thing!"

He gazed at me a moment, as I stood before him like a timid deer, and then, in a mighty torrent of emotion, flung himself at my feet, exclaiming. "You air a cherubim, an' I ain't no pirick, but an' uncultered son o' the soil. Thet's wut I am, honest Injun! Will yer smile on me? Will yer lemme adore ye?"

His noble self-abandon, his untutored emotion, overcame me. I could only gasp, "Don't squeeze my hand too hard, my gallant preserver. I am a simple, guileless maiden, and I cannot tell; but - papa wouldn't mind, I guess." ...

Must I be abrupt in disclosing the denouement? Shall I relate the sad ending of my little romance? I confided in his nobility and childlike lack of culture. I was deceived. I mourn the loss of his manly figure. I miss his artless simplicity of nature. I also miss my jewelry and papa's diamord shirt-pin!