Kenosha tribune & telegraph. [volume] (Kenosha, Wis.) 1856-1859, 1858-09-16

I1Hu gal Life's task fulfil" - u le ~ F.,
swell, Aunt Esther, what did he say?'
7q"Yes, do tell us, what did he say?"
| Cousin Alice Lake echoed eagerly my
words, as our aunt came into the sitting
room whore were lounging away the
pleasant summer afternoon. lgs .q8
/ see her now, though half sa,score OF
years haSthe grave dust hidden that
face fronfsthe eyes that loved it, as she
came through the door, with her soft,
slow step; with her. c-colored silk
shawl, and her leghorn bonnet, trimmed
with white satin ribbon. Aunt Esther
Lee was our fathers only sister, and she
had been childless widow for many
years, the latter half of which she had
passed at our home. ~ t.'a''-
Cousin Alice Lake was passing the va
cation with us. There was not a years
difference in our ages, and we had been
schoolmates from early childhood, and l
| believe sisters seldom love each other as
we did. t"+" 'Ai1J
That afternoon Aunt Esther had star
ted out on a visit to Farmer Pixies, the
rich old widower, whose great yellow
brown house, stood on the turnpike half
a mile from our house. '.'~ W pa
Farmer Pike was strange, hard man,
you would have felt this, with one glance
at his strong, rugged features, his iron
gray hair, and his large, muscular per
son, that had not bowed itself with the
weight of three score years. y 4oq JAa
He lived with his housekeeper, and
his hired men, in the great yellow. Brown
house, an honest, industrious man, but
without a single affection, or social sym
pathy in the world-with a life as cold,
and stark, and barren, as a desert over
whose bosom no running spring winds
its necklace Of jewels; in whose dry,
dead heart, no sweet flower opens its
soft lips to the sunshine. NJ .@IphiS 81
Yet Farmer Pixies life had its TRACE
dy, SO I believe all lives have, if We
could only unlock the hidden cabinets,
where they are laid away from every eye
but Gods z.-ol. l-3IliJ1oI. ji9iijj" ,uoii 90
Many years ago, Farmer Pike had
married q woman much younger than
himself. " Awoman with one .ofrthose
PC, shrinking, mimosa natures, that
seemed to have few points of sympathy
with his coarse, rugged character.
However, believe they got on we'll
together, and it is probable the gentle,
tremulous wife called out whatsoever Of
tenderness there was in the coarser soul
other husband. At last a son was born
to them, and the delicate mother fell in
to a decline, and before her boys life
had covered its third year, the grass had
laid its green covering over the moth
er'shead. ma rfs.. aa;Fs.ro a.!,j,
Mrs. Pike and Aunt Esther Lee were
schoolmates and had always been friends
$50 she farmer placed Joseph under her
care, and he continued to reside with
her, until at my mothers death which
occurred several years later, my aunt
came to US, and the boy went home to
his father 1rsao~l, g.. .ffr,.,y t..,5 c.,s
Joseph wasia warm hearted but terri
bly, self willed boy My aunt had more
influence over him than any other per
son, tor she loved him almost as though
he were her own child. ~ believe, too,
Farmer Pike was very, fond Of the
bright, handsome boy, but he was cold
undemonstratiye man, and he and Jo-
Eseph never get on well together
fAs the boy grew older his father de-
Itermined upon making him farmer, but
Joseph's active, energetic nature revolt
ed at this life; he was bent upon going
out into. the world, and trying his for
tune! there. 4. | know the, old yellow
brown house witnessed some terrible
contests between the fathers will, and
the sons determination; there were harsh
threats on ones side, and sullen resist
ance on the other, until worn out with
these things, Joseph made up his mind
to s'run away, and GO to sea-" ri
/ He did this with his usual rash impul-
siveness, and then Farmer Pike in his
wrath, lifted up his hand, and swore sol
EMMY that Joseph should not inherit a
dollar of his property; that he would
never see or speak to him again to the
day of his death, and he kept his word.
He lived in the yellow brown house, a
lonely ehildless man, broadening his
acres every year, and broadening, too,
by his cold, selfish, unproductive life, the
gulf between him and the kingdom of
Heaven. j -eE5 IS
One day in the late spring, however,
an old man and little golden-haired
child, stopped at our house and asked
for Aunt Esther Gray. Then for the
first time in all these years, we heard of
Joseph Pike. Z, '@s -17f
Life bad been with him emo dance of
roses" but long, sharp struggle. He
had married young, and his children had
been taken from him, and at last his
young wife had been laid beside them,
leaving him only the golden-haired boy
that stood before us. isI1
+ Joseph inherited the delicate consti-
tuition Cf his mother, and his health had
failed under all these trials. He had
wandered from place to place with his
motherless boy in search ofnew strength.
But he failed rapidlyy and at last him
self gave up all hope OF recovery. Then
he wrote to my aunt, the mother of his
boyhood, as he called her, and bequeath-
ed to her tenderness his only child,
scarcely four years old. And the old
man who brought him to us, was one
who Joseph had once rescued from
drowning, and who remained with him
out of gratitude, to the last hour Of his
| life. IN .gs,.
Aunt Esther bowed her head above
those golden curls, and said, while her
tears dripped fast on the bright face that
was SO like its father's-'I will take the
child" 20 ..T .)..de8l-E.5 VI a9ilq
4" rLslo- nix - sser III 4. re.
"I've made up my mind" said Aunt
Esther, suddenly, one day just after din
ner, and she folded up her knitting, and
looked off moment on the dusty road
that wound like dingy red ribbon
I through the pastures of Woodside.