Indiana American. [volume] (Brookville, Ind.) 1833-1861, 1856-01-04

awake, in the loneliness and darkness
Of the red house. thinking how he
would carve out bis own fortune. so
at last Aunt Mary ceased her verbal
opposition. and set herself about pre-
pairing the boys wardrobe for bis
journey. and disposed to the best ad-
vantages Of his mothers simple fur
niture.
II was an October morning. The
great fruit-laden branches were dip.
ping downward. almost within our
reach. when Harry Willard and ]
stood under them for the last time.--
"You will not quito forget me. Harry.
| said. swallowing down the sob that
was in my throat. "when you are so
far away; and you will think some.
times Of the village school, and the old
trees where you used to sit-wont
you?"
Forget you. Allyl" and bis arm
was drawn uround my waist, and the
brown eyes looked earnestly. almost
reproachfully. into mine--'you, whom
l love better than anybody in the
word. now mammals dead. o. Ally,
/ shall be lying under the grass AS
deep and IS still as she is this pleasant
morning. before ! can forget You. and
Aunt Mary. and all your kindness to
me, a poor little. fatherless. friendless,
boyl Ally. | have passed the happi-
est hours Of my life with you; and
now, won't you give me one Of those
long curls, that has lain for years
against your cheekf And l will place
1t on my heart; and it will keep It al
ways warm foryou. Don't cry. Ally.
dear!" for the tears were dripping
down my cheeks as / took Aunt Ma
ry's garden scissors. which she had
Inadvertently left on rustic bench
under the tree. and severed the tress.
"I'll come back to you when I've
grown TO be somebody you'll be proud
Of" and his form dilated. "But
harkl there comes the stage, aunt Ma
ry is calling" and the tears trickled
on his heavy lashes as he ran toward
the house. "Good- by. Allyr
"Good-by, HarryF
We stood under the small vine
wrapped portico; and he kissed me
twice, and then ran hastily toward
the gate, for the driver was late and
cross. Iheard the rumbling of wheels,
and saw through my tears the floating
of a handkerchief; and Harry Willard
was gone, and the red house down the
road" was desolate.
Eight years had passed since that
morning when Harry Willard and
murmured our fearful farewells under
the vine-wrapped portico. They had
not been all bright years to me: there
was great shadow trailing through
the later ones, until this was lost
swallowed up in darkness. the dark
ness Of death,
Our horne. our darling cottage hom,
went fist The former owner of tn,
place was a hard man, and the bill o
sale was lost, SO it fell into his hands
Aunt Mary struggled very hardly t,
bear up under this blow; but il was 1
very heavy one. leaving the home o
her fathers; and after il she smiled 1
sad, heart-broken smile, that brough
the tears into my eyes, and said. God'l
will be donel"
Her health, which had been failing
her for long time, at last gave way
There came another autumn day, anC
the wind soughed through the tangled
grass of the church yard, and the sun
light glinted along the white marble
Just as it had done in a day far dowr
in my memory, when they laid Aun
Mary under the willows to sleepl
After this. j. too. was Ill for long
time with fever; and some kinl
neighbors took me to their homes, art
watched over me during that illness
almost as tenderly as Aunt Mary
would hove done.
Ny father had widowed sister
WOO resided at the capital, ant
OF whom | seldom heaid: but
knew that Aunt Mary had writer
her few days before she left me. al
though she did not reveal to me tn,
nature of her communication. Blu
when l was able to sit up, they PLACED
a letter, in strange handwriting. be
fore me. II contained an invitation
T IL tried to think il was a cordial one
from this aunt to make her residence
thy future home.
: The kind family with whom hat
resided since my aunts death wer,
/ not wealthy; and so. after many pro
! phetic misgiyings. resolved to ac
: cept the home which had been Offered
l me. came TO the city. reader.
lonely orphan 1irl, without a irienI
outside the little village which il al
, most broke my heart to leave. Blu
the tall stone mansion whose tall ston
front looked down coldly and sternl,
upon me when / ascended the broaI
! steps, and glanced up for the first tim
, was no home to me. Isoon perceive'
that my aunt. and her two fair, haugh
, ty daughters. regarded me as an un
! welcome dependent upon their bounty
r whom II would In no wise avail thei
interest 10 recognize: and sometimes
: wished that | was lying under tn
! willows. close, 0, very close. TO Aun
Mary May God forgive mel for wa
very wretched.
+. y
"'rhen. Julia, you are sure we una,
; depend upon his honoring our soirs
with his pfesenceY"
"Perfectly SO, Annie. Mr. Lee
who is. you know, bis most inlimat
Q friend. says we may rely upon hin
for next Tuesday, though he had t
\ refuse several other Invitations In OF
Q der 20 accept ours. How he Is .fste
Q and wonhippod overywherel IN
3 sure shall be grlasful 10 Mr.. Lee Cor
/. ever. Aud Annie, I'm resolved /
. that our soirse uhall be the most bril-