The New era. [volume] (Martinsburg, W. Va.) 1865-1871, 1865-10-26
W0dic UayHec
OR,
ONLY \ FRIEND,
BY MOLLY MYRTLE.

The crimson splendor of an autumn
sunset flashed over the hills, and crept
with noiseless footsteps through Il little
window at the low brown cottage where
l was born, The October wind Whistled
Il kind of mournful song to the forest
leaves that were whitening from the trees.
Uncle Dick had gone to the post-office,
and how anXiously / was expecting his
return! l stirred the fire, then went to
the window and looked out at the distant
tree-tops, that seemed bowling their heads
reverently to the parting kiss of the sum
light, that would illume them moment
or two, and then leave them in the dark
ness of night.
1t made me feel gloomy to think of it,
SO walked back to the fire, and tried
not to feel SO nervously inpatient; then
l looked at the Old-fashioned clock in the
moved SO slowly. Atlength, to deceive
myself that it was getting late very fast,
pulled the white window curtains from
the unsympathizing nails that never re-
turned a caress, though for long years
those same curtains had fallen loving
embrace around them.
AT last, from sheer exhaustion, ] sat
down before the fire, and began to think
of the past. Blackjack remembrance
led me to the time when played with
dolls and triedt to look matrOnly; WhenI
wondered if never should be Il woman;
when wore "bib aprons" and listened
to the rise and fall of glad heart-throbs.
Then, like a dark shadow DER the silver
gilded past came the memory of mothers
death-bed-th funeral-the vacant in
valid chair-the work-basket, and the
small, graceful thimble, that wasn't
much too big" as | used to tell papa
when l tried it on my thumb, and Won
dered why people didn't wear thimbles
on their thumbs. At any rate, ] meant
to; SO did Wounding my second finger
with the needle, while the useless thumb
on my left hand rejoiced in the dainty
silver thimble of my mother.
l thought of all this that evening
then of how Aunt Fannie and Uncle
Dick came to live with us; and, after a
while, the summer song-birls chanted a
requiem over the dear dead body of my
father. Then ] lived alone with my
aunt and uncle, and my heart grew lone
lier and sadder with its great unsatisfied
warnings for love and sympathy; No
body felt as did. Nobody understood
me. Yes there was one.
Twas Weston Wilcox! We Were be-
trothed, and from him was expectinga
letter. Do you wonder that l was inn
patient? In his last he had written, 81
have become acquainted with Miss
Mabel Wayne. She is handsome, amia-
BILE, and accomplished. She is SO unlike
great many ladies in one respectable
has no taste for flirting. l have told her
of you, and believe she speaks truly
when she says she wishes to be only a
friend. | wish, my darling, that you
knew her." 1Nddle Wayne! Why did
the name fall with so sharp pain on my
heart-strings, and shadow them with a
foreboding of future woe?
l knew Weston letter almost by heart
but | got up and unlocking my little
portfolio took it out and read it again.
Then bowed my head over in my hands
and wondered what life would be with
out the love of Weston Wilcox. / shud-
dered to think of it, and yet, in persis-
tent feeling Of self-torture, l began to
paint future years devoid Of what was
now my life's sunlight. Icould not bear
it long, and pressing theletter once more
with loving reverence to my lips, laid
it next to my heart, as ii its mute breath
ings OF tenderness could SOOthe the thrObs
that ached with an underlined pain.
started up nervously, nd raising the
| curtain looked out on the twilight-lnan-
eiCi cttlt I'll. lHc night WIN DleW Tuuc-
ly into deserted robins nest near the
window, as if in search of the birdlings
that had long since flown to SUMMER
climes. / walked back to the fire and
wondered why Uncle Dick didn't come.
Then determined to go into Aunt Fan
ny's room and try to get rid of my ner-
vousness. So closing the door l crossed
wide old hall and entered my aunt's
room.
can see her now, as she looked that
autumn evening, with her snowy cap
bathed in the ruddy radiance of the fire.
light, and her good-natured face smiling
in quiet content over the swift glancing
of the bright knitting needles in and out
of the soft yarn that had once graced the
back of my pet lamb.
"Auntie, I'm so nervous-can't you
give me something to do?" l asked.
"Nervous! Oh, yes, you're looking
for letter this evenin'. That accounts
for it," said Aunt Fannie, half smiling.
"Auntie, somehow Pm SO miserable"
! said, trying to choke back sob that
would come anyhow. Aunt Fannie
passed her hand over my face that had
laid in her lap, as she said.
HpShouy child x,o,,,lI rot lo4tar f,.<,.,