Kenosha tribune & telegraph. [volume] (Kenosha, Wis.) 1856-1859, 1857-01-22
AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY

dawning of a great change. Allan Ora
ham taught me that /, unloyed, usought
as | must ever be, even /, had something
: for which to live. For week he had
been my teacher, and now had handed
in to him my first composition. 'How
the thorns came on the rose," was the
subject 1t was fantastic legend of {
lovely flower dwelling among those who
cared not for it. 1t put forth thorns, one
by one, as defences against feet that
would crush it-against hands that
would grasp it rudely. Into this legend
/ had woven the wild plans of my owr
heart. 1t was passionate cry which
thought no one could recognize OF un
Iderstand.
| Allan Graham read it in silence, and
SLOWLY. Then he said
agatha, You have suffered much?"
"Ye s, sir.''
Gin this composition, my child, there
is morbid ifeeling-a sort of defiant
lhopelessness. But have made also an
lother discovery. There is something
| for you i'll life brighter and better thar
any Of your dreams. Agatha, not in vain
have you been baptized with the hap
tism of suffering. You are destined to
be an author-you viii win fame; you
will do good"
The fame had been the first thought, q
in that, and the flush that mounted to
his dark check, / read the besettiug sin
Of the Rector of Burnside. Until that
hour L had not known that | was ambi-
tious. had, indeed, something now
for which to live. All my fathers soul
rose within me. Lonely, unloved, my
life might be; bat the world should
know that Agatha Raeburn, the little Grip
pie, had dwelt in it,
found Allan Graham a hard master.
He eXacted incessant toll. He taxed
ever nerve and sinew to it's utmost ten
sion. And yet he was not unkind.
grew to like his quiet, resOlute govern
ing manner. His silence and terseness
was not displeasing to me. And the on
ly sentence Of praise he ever uttered
"This is worthy of you, my pupil
in time to be more to me than all other
applause.
Ino longer missed love or sighed for
it. Heart and soul were full. At TWEEN
ty, l found myself a well known and
popular writer.
1t was at that time Mark Rothesay
came to Burnside. He was an author
His ostensiblc object was to find, for a
few months, q quiet home, 0wherein to
read, wherein to write" his real one, as
| afterwards found, to become acquain-
ted with the Agatha Raeburn Of his IA
yorite periodicals.
He soon called on me. He was
brought into my own special room-the
the study which had been my fathers.
81 am happy to see you," said, qui-
etly;-"but you will excuse me from ri
sing, as | am lame"
He looked at me with an expression
of blending amazemert and compassion,
81 wished to see Miss Agatha Rae
burn" he said, hesitatingly.
81 am she, was my calm reply.
"Forgive me. | beg ten thousand par
dons, but | have been told that Miss
RaebWn was very young, scarcely TWEEN
~"
| glanced at a mirror opposite. His
mistake was not strange. | looked at
least thirty. Good as Allan Graham's
discipline had been for my mind, it. had
made me sallower and thinner than ever
| had grown very old. There may have
been little bitterness in my smile as
answered:
II am, indeed, no older than that, sir
but have suffered much. / have been
lame for many years, and | know little
about the beauty or the brightness OF
life"
I could see he was touched-that ar
gued we'll for his disposition. | cxerted
myself to relieve his embarrassment
Soon the conversation flowed into an ca
sy channel, and he left me, at length,
with the impression that ! had passed
one Of the most agreeable hours Of my
life.
For the next few months, he spent a
portion Of every day in my society
Sometimes he read to me, while sat in
my low chair at the open study window,
Ijnhaling the freshness and fragrance
from without. He was very gifted, and
his tastes and pursuits We're so much like
my own, that I gave myself mp to the
delight Of his society without asking my
self whittier all this would tend. Helen,
too, was almost always with us. She
was blooming. graceful creature of tif-
teen now. she had never in her life
| met any man that seemed to her Mark
| RotheSay'S equal Unlike Allan Ora
ham, he was very handsome. His man.
ners possessed that polish which is only
| impaired by extensive intercourse with
Good society. and his conversation uni
ted the destinations ofplaytulness, poet
~, and subtle analysis.
1t was not long before / made the dis
covery that Helen loved him. My only
little sister-the ore being | had been
accustomed to think Of as all my own
had cast out my love from the chief
place in her heart, and yielded it up in
iremulous JOY to this handsome stranger.
| This knowledge came TO me traught
with the kceneSt anguish. 1t was re-
vealed to me one morning, by chance
depression of her face, as he read aloud,
"The Lady Of the Brown Rosary
Suddenly, though the summer sun
shine was never brighter. the dav seem
ed to grow black and dark. could not
bear their presence. l sent them both
from me.
i am tired Of YOU" l said, with
forlorn attempt at playfulness. That
poem always exciteS me, and I'm not
strong. Go out, both of You, and play
! like good children. Don't let me see
YOU back for an hou.'
Langhingly they obeyedme, but Mark