The Cecil Whig. [volume] (Elkton, Md.) 1841-current, 1860-05-12

| worse, ana, alaS 10und MN altogether fol
the worse and none for the better. Patterson
was knd-hea rtcd, genial soul, and strongly
attached to whisky toddy, and was by ne
means diligent in his business, which was that
of an accountant. When he made up his own
last account on earth, there was a very small
balance left in favor of aunty. A great pro.
portion of what the iron-tounder had made
out of pots and pans had gone in double shot
ted jugs Of toddy. Aunty was a widow a
second time before she heard anything of her
old sweetheart, Robert Alison. Then she
heard that he was married and doing well in
South America. She used to lay great stress
upon the fact of his being married. Possibly
that was rather a consolation than otherwise.
She might have felt it a reproach to herself
lad she heard that he was still single, as that
might have been taken to imply that he had
remained bachelor for her sake whereas
she had married and buried two husbands.
Some ten or fifteen years after The death of
| Mr.. Patterson, news came to the town that
Robert Alison had lost his wife, and was COM
ing home with his only son. Old Mrs. Joyce,
who had a nephew in South America, from
whom the news came, called one evening to
show aunty the letter. Aunty, at this time
was getting old and frail, and occasionally
showed symptoms of falling INTO dotage.-
| When Mrs. Joyce read her the letter she
laughed childishly, and said how glad she
should be to see her Robert again and then,
when Mrs. Joyce went away, she told me the
old story Of her early courtship with Robert,
and Of their parting at day break on the old
bridge.
was, as l have said, very little boy when
aunty first relate6to me the story of her early
love. l was nearly man now, and had come
to spend my college holidays with the good
Old lady. Ono evening, about six weeks after
Mrs. Joyce called with that letter from South
America, aunty and l were sitting by the par
lor fire as Of old. 1t was nearly dark but
did not like to light the candles, for aunty
loved to sit and talk by the fire between the
lights. The sombre shades of evening seemed
to have something in harmony with her mood
at such times. She sat opposite the picture
of Robert Alison, looking into the fire, and
merrily rubbing her hands. Suddenly the
fire burned up into flame, and threw a flash
Of light upon Roberts picture. Aunty, who
had long been silently gazing at the burning
GOALS, cast her eyes up to the handsome face
and heaving sigh, muttered half to herself
half to me 90 He was a fine fellow, but he's
dead now; at the bottom OF the sea, my
| do ,, Oh aIbnJ mara pninto6ly ,dIrnc,
ing me. l was startled for moment, think
ing that aunty might have heard some farther
news-perhaps that the ship in which Robert
was coming home had been wrecked | now
| saw, however, that she was only wandering
! i'll her mind, as she had often done before of
late. Presently, when the Pickering light of
the fire again fell on the picture, she laughed,
and began to babble about her haXen hair
that streamcd in the wind that morning when
she went to bid Robert goodbye. I" There s
some Of it left YETI she said " Robert has
got the lock that he cut off with his pen-knilc.
Did | ever show you the lock that l took
| from Robert in return :" | had seen it many
time =; but said that should like to sec it.
| don't think aunty could have been very
sentimental person; for, though she kept this
lock and cherished it, she never wore it about
her person, as women do wear those things.
Perhaps she thought that, after the iron -foun-
der and the accountant, it would have looked
like ahectation. She kept Roberts hair in a
little red box, with rings and brooches, and
other ornaments of the kind. She never took
any particular care of this box, or the hair
which it contained but always spoke Of the
sourenir and Of Robert simply as pleasant re-
membranes of the past. She took the box
| from the place on the mante-shelf which it
usually occupied, opened 1t and took out the
hair. The lock was single jet-black curl,
and, as aunty gently Strengthened it out, it
slipped from her grasp and twned itself
round the third finger Of the left hand, exact
| ly over her two wedding rings.
Why, aunty," said |, &c that's an omen
Robert is certainly coming home to marry
you.'
Marry me, child" she replied " I've
had enough of marrying. Robert will just be
fivc-andthlrty years too late. remember
that lock curling round my finger before l
married Mr.. Granger, and | thought some
| thing would come ofit-and so something did
come oft, but it was not the something that
| expected. Robert got marrlcd-and so
did l.. We sworc on the old bridge to live
and wait for each other but our oaths went
down on the stream that flowed underneath.
and were carried away to the ocean of obiv-
ion. Yet, it seems but yesterday that we
parted" Aunty paused, apparently over
come By emotion, and, ere she could resume,
the fire fell in and burst into a steady, brill.
ant flame. My attention, which was suddenly
| attracted to the blaze, was almost immedi.
ately diverted by noise as Of some one
entering the room-and at the same mon, ent
scream from aunty. On looking up, dis
covered the presence Of stranger. My gaze
no sooner fell upon his countenance than
also uttered cry of surprise.
Robert-Robert % cried aunty.
Had the picture stepped down from its
frame, or was this some conjuration Of the
fancy There, his hat in his hand, and his
glossy black hair hanging in clustering curls
round his handsome head, stood the very
embodiment of the picture of Robert Alison.
Robert-Robert Alison" cried aunty
again.
The young man advanced towards me, and
bowling, said-ss My name is Robert Alison. -