The Union and journal. [volume] (Biddeford, Me.) 1858-1882, 1860-05-18

that VIC were growing old, growing away
from the possibilities Of youth and beauty
and tenderness. Our life had been 20 quiet,
so barren of events, that II seemed short,
unconscious of the hostages time was leay-
ing with US In the shape Of gray hairs and
wrinkles.
It was sudden shock, rather than Bit
ter grief, when our father died. His heart
had been buried, twenty-five years ago, in
the grave Of our mother, and. since that
time, though kind and just to all, there had
Lecn no sun to melt for him tho leo Of life's
long winter. We honored him, but we new
or got near enough to love him. There was
saddeuing sense of loss and absence when
VIC looked at his vacant chair at home, or in
his counting room, when We saw "Smith
Brothers" on the sign, In place Of the hon
orcd name which had hung thore for forty
years, but there was none OF the anguish oI
dcsolation which rcnds tho heart when one
il taken whom we Lowell, who loved us.
cit would not have been right to marry
while father lived" said TO Abijah, ono
evening, Us we sat by the library fire. "li
would have panied him to bring q wife home
here where mother died. But now"
"Yes, / think II Is time now, brother Alb
solom ;'but Of course wo must wait till our
year of mourning is over" :,
Our eyes met each other, and VIC smiled.
We made no confessions in words, but the
truth came homo to us both that We had lived
80 long out of the world, It would bea work
of more magnitude than We had realized to
90 into society and choose tho household an
gel we both coveted.
And so II went on for another year-the
old house quiet and silent Oh ever; the old
servants; and "Smith Brothers" growing
old together. Our father had been dead
something over q twelycmonth when there
came to US letter supcrscribed in female
hand. Il was very unusual event, and we
speculated little as to its possible origin be-
iore we opened il. 1t proved to be from a
lady of whom wo had often heard rs our
mothers most intimate. friend. This wa
what II said
al write to you, gentlemen, as surely Ma.
ry Chelmsford may feel privileged to write tc
the children of Margaret Smith. Your moth
or and loved each other with tenderness
deeper than most sisters know. All that ono
woman could have done or ventured for an
other she would have done for me, or | fol
her. Since she died have seen neither OF
you, but remember tho promise Of your
boybood. You, Absalom, had your mothers
smile, and YOU, Abijah, your mothers kindly
eyes. will believe that you both inherit
your mothers tender heart. At any rate,
this Is my only hope. Under Heaven ! have
nowhere else to turn. ! am dying in
strange place, of slow decline, going to join
nv husband. have no near friends or kin,
dred to look to-only you. lam not harnssed
by any anxietics for myself. My soul Is a'
rest, for l know in whom l have believed
have property enough to make my las
days comfortable, and ~ leave provision fol
my only child, my daughter Margaret, whc
was named for your mother. 1t is in her be
half that appeal to you. She Is not mucl
over twenty, for was not married until lat'
in life, some years after your mother died.
She has gentle, loving nature, which, saw
ut her fathers death, has never yet been sub
jccted to any of the harsh discipline of life
1t is from this that beg you to save her.
She will not suffer from any bodily wants
but do not let her soul starye. Do not lei
her feel herself friendlcss, lonely and love-
less in life. BY this time one or both OF you
must surely have chosen some gentle woman
to bless your home who will not refuse a
mothers welcome to Margaret Chelmsford.
will not urge my cntrcaty. know that
TO make IL at all to your mothers sons will
be sufficient, if you have It in your power to
comply with it. lam able to write no more,
but / hopc to hear from you before ] %
hence. Address Mary Chelmsford, at Oswc-
90, New York."
We were of ono mind and one heart in
the matter, my brother and l. II Mrs.
Chelmsford would cOnfdc her to our care
tho daughter of our mothers friend should
seek no farther for homo. do not think
tho prospect, at first, afforded either Of us
much pleasure. A young lady in our very
house would sadly disturb our wonted quiet,
especially II sha were fond Of gaycty, and
wanted to 90 into society. But neither OF
MS felt any hesitation as to what was to be
done. We resolved not to trust to the do
lays and chances of letter. One OF US
would remain ut homo TO superintend busi.
ness, and mako ready for the reception OF
the young lady, and her mother, II We found
Mrs. Chelmsford able to travel. The other
was to proceed to Oswcgo. My brother in
sisted that this latter duty belonged to me,
as the elder, and l began my journey the
next morning.
When reached tho village among the
lakes. found the invalid moro feeble than
had expected. She had evidently not many
DAYS to live. resolved to remain until all
was over. She welcomed me with feyerish
cagcrncfs entrusted to my care oil the pa.
pers which concerned her daughter g inherit
ancc, leaving the settlement Of her affairs IN
my hands. had some hesitation In propos'
ing to her that Margaret should reside, hence
forth, with my brother and myself. somc
doubt as to whether she would not think u'
too young to receive such ward. wa
clad TO find that sho saw no impropricty in
Il. suppose did not look, at tbirty.iye,
very dangerously youthful. She accepted
INV offer with tears of JOY and many thanks,
n seemed to have been the one pang OF her
dcath.struggle that she must leave her daugh-
ter 90 lonely in the world. Now she was
ready to depart. :,
II know you will DO q brother TO her"
shc said, holding my hand, on tho day she
died. "I havo no moro fean about her, and
| am very glad to 90. Life Is weary enough
at best, and 20 many whom I have loved
have gone before-my husband, the little
bow, my first child, who died in babyhood,
and your mother, my truest friend. More
ore tLcra than horn ~