Cincinnati daily press. [volume] (Cincinnati [Ohio]) 1860-1862, 1861-09-18
THE MORTGAGED HOMESTEAD.
nY MRS. ELLEN FINNEY,

1t was bright, Autumnal day that Win
throp Thorne sat alone in his library, deeply
engaged in a complicated mass of strangely
folded papers. Now and then he would rest
his forehead upon his hand, and remain so
for long while; then his arms would fall
hopelessly down, and he would gaze out
with contracted brow and compressed liT
upon the round, red sun, as it sunk slowly
in the west.
The breezes gamboled here and there on
downy wings; they came in at an open win.
dow and nestled lovingly in his silver-grey
hair, and rocked to and fro his relentless
pile of papers; they swayed and swooped
impertinently across the tree tops, scatter
ing shower of golden leaves upon the win
dow-sill.
The unhappy man rose slowly up and
gathered them in his hand, while his eye
glittered as he held the pure gold without
alloy. But they crumpled in his grasp and
fell as dust at his feet. With an impatient
gesture he threw them from the window,
and paced the room with long and heavy
strides for q moment then drew his watch
and, throwing back the heavy casing, NUT
tered:
at is seven now; I wonder the Squire
doesn't Gomez
In few moments, however, there was o
heavy step in the hall, and o loud rap at
the door with an ivory-headed cane.
"Come imp cried Mr.. Thorne; and the
door opened, admitting the porty figure of
Squire Darnly.
After a hurried but formal greeting, the
two drew their chairs close to the table, and
commenced to talk over their business. 1t
seemed that Mr.. Thorne had been engaged
in some wild speculations, which had proved
quite unsuccessful, and all his vast prop
erty had melted away. Even the old home
stead, which had been handed down from
generation to generation, was at last mort
gagged to his neighbor, the Squire, who sat
so prominently before him. lie held mort
gage in his hand of the last remnant of his
property-the homestead.
Mr.. Thorne rose nervously from his chair,
and stood before the window. All around,
as far as he could see, lay the sacred soil of
his early home; interspersed with rich fields
of clover, golden plats of grain, sloping hill
sides and babbling rivulets. On that very
lawn in his happy boyhood, he had chased
the bright-winged butterfly, or, with book
in hand, had sat beneath the tall elm-trees
and watched the ieecy clouds as they fitted
slowly past, or listened to the golden robin
as he trilled sweet music in the branches
above his head.
In that very library his gray-haired IA
ther had sat, poring over the ledger, while
his trembling fingers glided slowly over the
sheet. Now they stood upon the shell, silent
records of his toilsome years. lie remem-
bered his pale, spiritual mother, too, who
has glided about his couch, and folded his
hands so meeky while he repeated the even
ing prayer. Then he remembered little
golden-haired sister, who used TO sit upon q
stool at her fathers feet and write pretty
verses all day long; and how his father
used to call her his little poetess. But now
far down the lawn was grove of NAPLES.
The Autumn frosts had kissed the leaves
golden hue, and they were slowly falling,
falling upon four green graves, of father,
mother, sister and wife. Long, long he
gazed upon the white, cleaning monument,
until burning tears, for the first time since
his boyhood, rolled down his cheek and fell
upon his hand; for he remembered that all
these dear associations must pass from his
grasp, and he and Fanny, his darling and
only child, must pass out upon the wide,
wide world, penniless and homeless
During all this time the Squire had been
in q deep study, evidently of great import
ance to himself; for he had now and then
scanned himself closely in the glass with
pursed up mouth; coaxed his thin hair across
his bald crown; fdgeted with mis- neck-t tie
and various other little arts Of coquetry un-
til, at last, he was worn out with impatience
at his companions long revelie
"Hum Mr.. Thorne p
The gentleman started as though can
non ball had struck him, and, dashing the
tears from his cheek, turned abruptly about
as he asked;
"Did you speal, sir ?"
"Why, yes. You see it is,getting late, you
know, and-why, neighbor, am sorry to
see you feeling so badly. But come; sit
down, sir | have got something TO say to
you; perhaps this matter won't turn out 80
bad, after ALL And he drew chair close
to his side.
Mr., Thorne threw himself despondingly
in the chair to listen.
"Hum! Mr.. Thorne, have always thought
a great deal of your family, and am sorry
you have been SO unfortunate. But every
man has his trials, you know; and | find |
have mine. The fact is, am getting very
lonesome and want wife,"
Mr.. Thorne opened his eyes wide with
astOnishment, for he wondered what he had
to do with finding the Squire wife; never
thinking of his darling Fanny, upon whom
his companion had long fixed cOyetous
eye.