The Richmond palladium. [volume] (Richmond, Ind.) 1855-1875, 1856-01-24
JUST DOWN THE ROAD.

Aunt Mary and | lived all alone N ouT III
tie cotta2e. Il va. tae qualntest old house.
with green blinds and gray gables, the wild
vines toii.ng up It's sides, with the scarlet ber-
riss flashing Ike red stars among the dark
green leaves. Then there were two chestnut
trees that stood all summer before the front
door, Ike tall frisrs with green stoles folded
over their bosoms; and on either side OF the
gravel walks, harebells and dafodills made
rufTIinq Of gold and purple down to the little
wicket O, it was happy home TO me. sit
here and close my eyes, and, looking down
into the fair land of my memory. L see the
quaint gables the great trees, and the golden
ruffling. shining clear through the light and
the darkness Of the years tha. lie between 1t
and the present.
Just down the road''--I could gee it from
nv chamber window-was a red frame house,
with the moss Of half century growing
thick on its sloping roof. The building was
considerably dilapidated; still. it had cosy,
old fashioned look OF summers moning,
when the sunshine used TO gid the caves, and
and plate with gold the great weather stained
| front door.
/ Mrs Willard and Harry lived in the red
house: he was her only son. and she was Il
widow I hey were very pcor-ali ;hc village
knew this; but Mrs. Willard managed to OBJ
tain q somewhat plSCal4CAS l4fC4t!iOOI iOI
herself and child by taking in plain sewing;
and as she sometimes fitted Aunt Mary's
dresses and mine, and Harry always came
for and returned these, became acquainted
with him.
Henry Willard was strange boy. He did
no. laugh and play as other boys Of his age
do He was only two years older than |; and
there was an air Of mingled prids and timidi
ty in his manner, a shadow on his young face,
and a melancholy earnes stness III his large
dark eyes, which arrested my attention, and
awakened my sympathy the first time that
saw him.
We we're both naturally shy, aud 50 Harry
came and went many times with the little bun
dies; and / sat in chair by Aunt Marys
side getting sureptitious glances Of the poor
mournful face, and wondering greatly why
it was not ike that Of other boys, before the
least overtures for acquaintance were made on
either side But Aunt Mary, whose heart
seemed always overilowing with kind
ness and sympathy for every human being.
had taken q great fancy to Harry Willard and
one day Just as he was leaving. after having
discharged the commission on which his moth
er had sent him. she suddenly said to me,
"Alice, you had better go out with Harry,
and make a boquet for Mrs. Willard. Don't
you like flowers, Harry
Yes ma am very much. thank you," re-
piled the boy; and then his eyes were full of
strange. beautiful light, as he placed them
full on Aunt Mary.
So we went into the garden together, and
there we talked for the first time, while gath
cred mignonnette and roses; and Harry held
the flowers while tied the blue ribbon around
the stems. After this our reserve wore grad
uallv away, and Harry became frequent.
always a welcome, visitor at our house. We
would sit for hours under the great restless
shadows Of the chestnut trees, while he would
talk to me in his strange dreamy way Of the
stars, that seemed TO him like golden stairs
on which the angels came down 10 the earth;
of the strange music lis heart could hear in
the wind music that rose in the spring time
into a mighty jubilee; and il flowed over the
fields, and they grew green; and the vlolets
opened their eyes. and made purple seams in
the grass. In the summer, Harry said this
music grew into a glorious psalm, filing the
forest and the woods; and when the autumn
came, it swelled into grand stream, that went
rolling up the hills, and along the valleys; and
there was nothing like it but the moan Of the
great organ. floating through the aisles Of the
village church when the choir sang the doxol-
ogy And Harry's brown eyes would grow
SO large. and kindle with such a strange Light
he talked of these things. and then lie would
stop suddenly, and the old shadow and sad
ness would come into them. and ne would tell
me how he loved TO read books and how there
was a strange hungry feeling at his heart for
knowledge; and how the hungry sometimes
grew inso a fire. which he could not describe;
aud be would say. in a tone of such touching.
mournful pa!hos. that it always brought the
tears in my eyes to hear him" But, Alice.
y-,, Wa and | 90
10 school: and nobody knows how feel; and
nobody csses for me but mamma" And
when | would draw up close to Harry, and
say, Don't talk so. please, Harry. for itnnakes
me feel bad: besides II isn't true. for Aunt
Mary loves YOU, and so do l: and l know You
will grow up 10 be great man. and have
many books as you want, and study every
thing. too!'
Then Harry would lift his face TO mine. and
there would be such glow all over It! And
his lip would quiver when he said. Ally.
your words always make me feel happy. God
bless you." And my heart always bsat Ii s5ht-
er when he said those words.
But one day, when Aunt Mary was "picb
ing over some gooSeberries, for supper, and
| sat bv her SIDE. hemming al apron for my
new doll. Itold her all that Harry had said 70
me- / noticed she seemed very thoughtful
aller IRIS, anu at I3St 4OpAcO anu SAW SIG
was running her fingers in an absent manner
through the pan OF gooseberries; and said,
..Aunt Mary, you're thinking about some
thing"
She smiled-her own sweet loving smile,
and bending down, kissed my uptUrned fore
head. and said, ''Yoa have guessed rightly.
Ally. l was trying 70 devise some method
by which could send Harry Willard 10
school; bu; this is not 50 easy a matter as
see. By the sparkling Of those blue eyes, that
you thinkit it Is. Harry Willards mother was
not ALWAYS poor. as size Is now: and sha Is