Bradford reporter. [volume] (Towanda, Pa.) 1844-1884, 1855-04-21

his christening. William did not like to write
again upon such an occasion it would have
seemed like encroaching upou your too gener-
Gus spirit. But when the news of that awful
! hurricane arrived, and Nicholas Hume and the
| CollinseS made inquiries in London, and aScer-
tanned that your plantation had indeed been
amongst those laid waste-then your silence
was too well explained head this sad news
| first for it arrived during the dreadful illness
which preceded my husbands bankruptcy
! And when he regained SO much breathing time
after his own misforunes as to ask news ofyou,
no tidings could be obtained all traces Of You
seemed lost 0, that he had lived to see this
day His will be done But 0, that my
poor husband had lived to see once more the
! knSman he loved SO well I"
| The old man pressed her hand in speecheSS
emotion, and Margaret, smiling through her
! tears went on:
You must live with us, dear uncle, and we
shall wait upon you and work for you, and be
happy together-as happy as we can be with
out him-after ALL My Annie is good girl
%, such good girl and pretty, is she not,
| dear uncle ? and poor Michael, your nameSake,
is boy of thousand We have had much
| to be thankful for Farmer Rogers, the over
seer, whose books my husband kept, (little Mi
chael keeps them now, as well, the farmer says,
as his father did, supplies us with milk twice
day, Mrs LasrelleS, the rector's wife, en-
| ploys Annie and me constantly in necCHe-work
for her large family and if we can but keep
our pretty cottage--if we can keep that cot
| tage at whose porch poor William planted the
honeysuckle and the China rose, and the vine
which now covers the thatch-that cottage
where we worked and wept together, and where
he died the death of the righteous if we can
but live together there, within sight of the turf
that covers his dear remains, | should ask for
nothing better on this side Of the grave"
The widows tears flowed afresh, and once
again the old man pressed her hand
is there any doubt of your retaining this
beloved habilation, dear Margaret? And does
my coming cause that doubt"
40, no, no, dear uncle, not in the slightest
degree The cause of doubt is, that we have
no lease, and that Miss Collins, as she calls
herself, poor Williams cousin, wants it for
some purpose aAother-peOple say with some
view of marrying, but this is idle talk-village
gossip. What is certain is, that she wishes to
take it, and is willing to give two pounds year
more rent than | now give or can afford to
give. If our old landlord Mr.. Godfry, had
| stayed he and Lady Elizabeth had promised
that should remain but the Hail. and the
village, and the whole estate are sold, and the
new lord of the manor is coming this evening.
Hark ! You may hear the bells ring even now.
Mr.. Godfry and Lady Elizabeth intend stay
ing few days at the rectOry you saw them
| ride by with their dogs they have promised
to speak in my favor to the new landlord -
they mentioned it even now, and the good rec
| tor and his excellent lady will second my petit
ton still
Be of good cheer, Margaret Even YOU
should leave yonr pretty cottage, | would wa
ger something" The old man checked him
self, and resumed, in an indifferent tone
"Who is the new lord of the manor what is
| his name ~
"The property was purchased by Mr.. Price;
| but he is understood to be an agent, and |
| have not heard the name of the real proprietor,
who is said to be an elderly gentleman, and so
rich that he will hardly be tempted to turn an
old tenant from her cottage for SO trifimg an
addition of rent NcyertheleSs-"
Once again, Margaret be of good heart, I"
reiterated her uncle.
" The tenants are to meet him in the avenue
the farmers and their sous Oh horseback, the
[ to Join them | have no shame i'll honest la
bor but do shrink from meeting the scorn Of
those purse proud kindred who and poor
Margarct's tears fell fast. Ought | to be
there, dear uncle | will go OF stay as you
direct
eco, Margaret Go, fear nothing. Gath
er up your treasures the Jug, whose generous
draught was the sweetest | ever quatfed the
wheat cars, and the cradle with its growing
babe-bleSsing on its dear face Go boldly
| will not shame YOU by these unScemly rags,
but will rest awhile under the friendly shade of
the hazel, while you return home and prepare
for the procession BE sure that YOU fail not.
We shall meet again soon dear ones For the
present, farewell"
There was something about the old man,
ragged, sick and lame as he was that Margaret
found it impossible to disobey. So heartened
up, she knew not why, (for many have felt,
, without being able to give the feeling its true
name, the mingled power of sympathy and ap
preciation to comfort and to cheer, she called
about her her blooming children and departed,
Annie and herself bearing the cradle between
them, and the boy laden with the glcaningS of
the day
The setting sun CLEANED brightly between
| the noble elms that formed the beautiful aven-
ne to Corston Hall gliding the rugged branch
es and turning into pendant emeraldS the leaves
Of the branches which met across the wide car
riagc road met and intc rleaved in nacngthen
ed archway chat might well have suggested the
rich intricacies of cathedral aisle in the proud
est days of Gothic architecture. The village
l.! bells pealed amain, horses pranced, flags waved
the children Of the parish schools strewed the
gaudy flowers Of the early autumn and as the
carriage of the new lord of the manor rolled
between the vivid lodge to the gray old Hall
a quaint, irregular structure of Elizaheth's o.
James day, with tame peacock summing him
self on the stone balastrade, large old Eng
lish spaniel basking on the steps, and the ten
ants il their holiday anparel gronped reunt