The Kenosha telegraph. [volume] (Kenosha, Wis.) 1860-1888, 1864-03-24
KENOsHA WISCONSIN, THURSDAY, MARCH a. 1864


he would not miss the sight, the very weeds
had pleasure for him. The seat there still,
round old Jacks tree; Fanny's seat that he
and Jack had made. He threw himself on it,
covered his face and wept on it; it did him
good. He was at home at last.
A step on the gravel walk behind him Mr.
Fortescue was up early too; he hadlgrief in his
heart, and could not sleep long; and he came
| to walk up and down the old walk before
breakfast, where no one could see him or his
sorrow. Who can that be Oh the seat? The
stranger stood up and turned round. He rails
ed his hat with such true air of breeding
that Mr.. Fortescue involuntarily did the same;
the two perfect gentlemen recognized each
in that simple action.
''You will pardon my intrusion, sir" said
Burton, ''when you learn that | am an old
friend Of the family who lived here formerly
came thus early in the morning to visit the
old place, thinking that none Of the family
would be up. AS it it is, fear have ven
turcd too near the house,
''Any friend of Mr.. Burton's is always
most welcome to the libby, replied MIR. For
tescue, with slight tremor in his voice he
perceived the tears still in Burtons eyes I
dare say have seen you here before.
i hardly think so. Mr.. Fortescue | pre-
sume2 That gentleman bowed. have not
been here for nearly fifteen years. My name
| is Clayton; Captain Clayton.
of the army asked MIR. Fortescue with
interest.
The East India Companys service. I
have been abroad for long time, and just
passing through this neighborhood, came to
visit spot where have passed SO many
happy days.
1 hope sir you will allow me to ask you
to stay and breakfast here; and in the mean
time we will take a turn up and down this
old walk we both know SO well.
The stranger acquiesced, and the two men
walked on together.
They talked of old times, and of his father
and sister; and Burton felt his heart warming
to that sisters sorroWing husband, but not
by word did he betray who he was.
You knew Henry Burton asked Fortes-
cue, as they approached the house.
Very we'll indeed. He was fine fellow
generous in fault-always Of quiet retiring
disposition.
lie was his fathers favorite; the old man
did not long survive him; the loss of his heir
broke his heart.
They entered the hall; the old hall, with
its pictures round the walls, all there still.
Once again there-not to be insulted and
beaten, and turned out to beg, wanderer
on the face of the earth, by that parent who
ought to have won the hayward, high spir
tied boy by the hand Of love, rather than
sought the high soul with the rod of IRON.
Now he was the owner there-the right
I'll. II L.
looked around him with pride. He followed
his host into the breakfast room. The fam
lily had not yet come down stairs.
There was a picture covered with Grape
over the chimney piece. Mr.. Fortescue
went over to it and, pulling back the cur
tain.
DO you know that face? lac asked
mournfully
His poor sister there, as large as life, the
dear eyes smiling again upon him, and the
lips parted just as if she was going to speak,
the same happy joyous look, the same sweet
smile as she had fifteen years ago, when she
used, in that same parlor, to greet him with
a loving sisters kiss in the morning, and
preside at the happy breakfast table, the
bright sun of the sister on one side more
than counteracting the dark cloud of the
father on the other and the brother now
the only one left, the outcast yet the pet Of
the brother and sister gone.
He went closer and closer to the almost
speaking portrait. Fanny p he murmured,
and leaned his head on the chimney piece,
and gave away-he sobbed aloud.
The husband looked on. An old lover,
he thought to himself. And he gently came
behind him, and drew again the dark
Grape.
The children, Mary and Ii zzie, came in
and their governess, and Miss Fortescue, and
the stranger recovered himself and was in
troduced.
Captain Clayton-Miss Fortescue Miss
Manners, an old friend of poor Fanny's he
continued, and the children came to kiss
their father.
Your little ones p Burton asked
He shook hands with them, and they be-
came great friends, and got on his knee,
and amused him with childish prattle.-
And little Lizzie, so like her mother. who
was she called Lizzie after? she ought to
have been Fanny.
They sat at breakfast-reserve wore off
by degrees-and the children laughed and
made their funny remarks, and asked their
curious questions The stranger sat between
them; and the seniors laughed too, and chat
Burton talked so we'll of all he had heard
and seem
The battles, sieges, fortunes he had passed.
as the rest listened with interest.
4 wish you would come and spend few
days with u.s. said Mr.. Fortescue. You
are in NJ now | suppose?'
Yes, walked from there this morning,
DO come, said Lizzie, | want to show you
my garden.
And the rabits, said Mary.
sAnd the pigeons, and the cave, an do
promise p said they both.
He looked down on the little darlings.
i am much obliged, he said; | will avail
myself of your kind invitation. l must go
back however, to M-to day.
oh, we are all going in after breakfast.
There is some trial going on there, and
the children are anxious to hear it, so we
are all going to the court house, and can
give you a seat IN, and bring you out.
Thus it was arranged.
The ladies went up stairs to dress for a
drive, and Burton strolled into the garden by
himself.
Shall l deprive those angels of this place?
lit S2lQ dlOu u,--I3 WIZ udF6 uO VIC W
bind me to the world but them? But they
must know me and love me as their uncle.
Yes I'll tell them this evening.
The carriage came to the door, and theG
all drove into Al
(C0nc5uded ae1t apeek.)
-.O~--
From the south
CHATTANOOGA, March ia recent num-
Der of the rebel newspaper-the Mjsstssjp~
pj0n-co ntains this remarkable passag:
Have our neighbors read the Chicago
Times New York Express, Metropoyjton
Record. Cincinnati ERnlirsr. and various