Eastern times. [volume] (Bath, Me.) 1846-1857, 1854-05-25
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From Arthurs Home Gazette
D E ? E N D E N c. E.
BY MRS. F. H. COOKE.

Well, Mary, said aunt Frances, how do
you propose 10 spend the summers 1t is so
long since the failure and death of your guar
dian, that l suppose you are now familiar with
your pasitiea, and prepared to mark out some
course for the future
True, aunt l have had many painful
thoughts with regard to the loss of my fortune,
and | was for a time in great uncertainty
about my future course, but kind offer,
which received yesterday, has removed that
burden. now know where to find respect
able and pleasant home
Is the offer you speak of one of marriage! =
asked aunt Frances, smiling
oh dear, no; | am too young for that
yet. But cousin Kate is happily married, and
lives few miles out Of the city, in just the
cOsiest little spot, only little too retired and
she has persuaded me that shall do her a
great kindness to accept home with her.
Let me see. Kate's husband is not veal
thy, believe!'
No: Charles Howard is not wealthy, but
his business is very good, and improving eve
ry year and both he and Kate are too whole
sOuled and generous to regret giving an asy-
lum to an unfortunate girl like me. They
feel that Z" it is more blessed to give than to
rcceive.''
A very noble feeling, Mary but one in
which | am sorry to perceive that you are
little wanting
'Oh no, aunt Frances, do feel it deeply;
but it is the curse of poverty that one must
give up, in some measure, the power Of bene-
fitting others. And, then, mean to beguie
Kate of so many lonely hours, and perform so
many friendly Offices for her husband, that
they will think me not burden, but treas
ure.'
And you really think you can give them
as much comfort as the expense of your main
tainance could procure them in any other
way!'
Yes, aunt; it may sound conceited, per-
haps, but do really think can. am sure,
if | thought otherwise, | would never consent
TO become burden to them
Well, my dear, then your own interest Is
few blessings in life that can compensate for
the loss of selfrelance. She who derives her
support from persons upon whom she has no
natural claim, finds the effect upon herself TO
be decidedly narrowing. Perpetually in debt,
without the means of reimbursement, barred
from any generous action which does not seem
like " robbing Peter to pay Paul." she sinks
too often into the character Of sponge, whose
only business is absorption. But | see you do
not like what | am saying, and will tell you
something which l am sure you 1riH lke-my
own veritable history.
l was left an orphan in childhood, like your
self, and when my fathers affairs were settled
not dollar remained for my support. was
only six years of age, but [ had attracted the
notice of distant relative, who was man of
considerable wealth. Without any effort of
my own, became an inmate of his family, and
his only son, few years my elder, was taught
to consider me as sister.
George Somers was generous, kind-hear-
ted boy, and believe he was none the. less
fond of me, because | was likely to rob him of
half his fortune Mr. Somers often spoke of
making will, in which was to share equally
with his son in the division of his property,
but natural reluctance to SO grave task led
him to defer it from one year 10 another
Meantime, | was sent to expensive schools,
and was as idle and superficial as any heiress
in the land.
was just sixteen when my kind benefactor
suddenly perished on board the ill-fated Lex
ington, and, as he died without will, had
no legal claim to any farther favors. But
George Somers was known as very open
handed youth, upright and honorable, and, as
ne was perfectly well acquainted with the
wishes of his father, | felt no fears with regard
to my pecuniary condition. While yet over
whelmed with grief at the loss of one whom
my heart called father, | received very kind
and sympathizing letter from George, in which
he said he thought had better remain at
school for another year, as had been originally
intended.
"Of course" he added, @ the death Of nv
father does not alter our relation in the least ::
you are still my dear and only sister"
And, in compliance with his wishes, l
passed another year at a very fashionable
sOhool-a year of girlish frivolity, In which
my last chance of acquiring knowledge as a
means of future independence was wholly
thrown away. Before the close of this year |
received another letter from George, which
somewhat surprised, but did not at all dis
hearten me. 1t was, in substance, as follows:
" M o,5n dear Sister wrote you, some
months ago, from Savannah, in Georgia, and
told you how much was delighted with the
place and people how charmed with South
ern frankness and hospitality. But did not
tell you that had there met with positively
the most hewitching creature in the world, for |
was but timid lover, and feared that, as the
song says, the course of true love never would
run smooth. My charming Laura was con-
siderable heiress, and although no sordid con-
siderations ever had feathers weight upon
her own preferences, of course, yet her father
was naturally and very properly anxious that
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