OK, THE WOKLD HAS CHANGED. 115 



torrents of anxiety, the earthquakes of apprehension, and the 

 cyclonic palpatations of the heart, as that day, so pregnant 

 with profound results, approached. But at last it came, the 

 morniDg of the day came bounding in o'er the cycles of time. 

 I donned my best suit of blue geans and advanced to meet th^ 

 engagement. I didn't sing any pocans of victory as I marched 

 to the front, for I did not feel assured that my march would be 

 a triumphal one. I often repeated to myself the maxim? 

 " Faint heart never won fair lady," and would bristle up con- 

 siderably for awhile, buti soon found that I was no j^orcupine 

 and that my bristles wouldn't stand worth a cent. O, how I 

 longed for some such a backbone as is possessed by our ex- 

 President Cleveland, still I proceeded and actually assembled 

 with my Dulcina, and started as her escort to the fishing 

 grounds, but right here my memory fails me. I must have 

 made the intervening space in a walking swoon, for when the 

 first glimpse of consciousness returned I discovered we two 

 standing on the banks of the creek, with a couple of fishing 

 poles tucked under my arm, but I had lost the hooks and the 

 bait; a haloe of glory seemed to surround me, the opportunity 

 had come. I assayevl to speak and tried to concentrate all the 

 ideas of my soul into one grand captivating address ; that's 

 what I wanted to do and that's what I tried to do, but sud- 

 denly the old panic seized me and again I flickered, and the 

 only thing I could think to say to her was, "did you get a 

 bite?" When she naively, but sweetly replied, "How could 

 I without a hook?" Just then I caught another spark from 

 her electrical eyes and went off into a new swuon. I can 

 make no report of what further happened, until the next 

 return of consciousness, when I found us in a pailiway on our 

 return to her home ; the parental mansion was in sight and my 



