The Wheeling daily register. [volume] (Wheeling, W. Va.) 1864-1878, 1868-02-01
J o H N

I -
some way I've thought if | told this lit
tie thing there might be some one it
would please Not SO much please as
comfort, it may be, like sliding hand
within body's when they're in troubles;
for there's nothing like quiet hand
grip when one is in deep pain. But
about this little history.
1t isn't much, and it has poor title,
bat if you knew how differently the
name sounded from what it locks,
staring there-how it makes me flash
and thrill with love and deep feeling
you wouldn't think it so homely and
plain.
Every one knew him, from the little
bare footed children who sold clans and
cookies, TO the fine people at the hotel,
who always took his yacht in place Of
the rest. As for him-lve notion he
might have made good picture. He
was as dark as an Indian, and as tall
and 1.-THE. He could swim the farthest
and pull the strongest Car, and as for
leaping and wrestling no one could be-
gin with him. There was a rich dark
red in the brown cheek, and when he
smiled it was pretty sight-such white
teeth and such strong mouth, with
the laugh deepening his brown eyes.
John had always been my friend, he
used to take me out in the yacht when
he went with Jee, my brother, and stow
ME away on his jacket; and then, when
| | grew older, he was the same kind
| friend-fer Joe's wife died and left me
the housekcepcr, and John used to come
| in W hen Joe had gone on cruise to the
cod fisheries, and bring in armfuls OF
wood; and in winter make the paths,
and sit down by the fire when the nights
were bad, and talk with me, and in sum
mer. used ofteu to come in with a word
of Joe and kind talk with Charlie and
me-that was before Charlie was old
enough to 90 with his father on his
trips-and | used to feel kind of Sis
terly love for him. He was pretty much
alone. His mother died, and he lived
alone with old Nancy Bell, his aunt-a
cross old woman-but she took good
care of his home, and it was all the
home she had on earth.
The Irvinghams were the richest peo-
pie in the village. To be sure, they
only came there in the summer, but the
family had always lived there in the fine
old house, with its great park and lawn
and hot houses, which father, before he
died, used to be proud of-for he was
gardener there thirty years ago, and
mother had been Miss Emily's maid
when he married her.
Miss Emily was old and not married,
but her brother Alfred, with his wife
and Miss Ionic used tn come back during
the warm weather from their home
in New York; and as Miss Emily was
very kind to me, used to go there very
often for sewing, and could do up the
fine laccs and rufiles for her as no one
but mother ever did, she said. Then,
Miss Louie had been born at the Hall.
That was before father died. So used
to 20 with him, and see her in the
grounds PLAYING, and play with her too
(for they were very good to me always), ,
and SEE her great wax dolls, with their
silk and lace frocks, and her gray
hounds and pets. She never felt a
bit above me-nOt even when she
grew TO be young lady, the only
heir of her fathers wealth, when
every summer she came often to see me,
saving she loved me as we'll as her city
friends, and she always loved the cakes
and the other little things used to like
to fix for her. But this is not my story,
after all.
She was the fairest, daintiest little
beauty ! have ever seen-not more than
q child in her ways and feelings-gentle
and kind, and o! so very winning She
had the softest, whitest skin, and pair
of ewes as pretty as spaniels, though
that is not pretty thing to compare to
Miss Louie. And her hair 1t cnrled
in little loose rings when Sic was a
child, and had dark touch on it, Of a
goldy color in the light. 1t was the
prettiest hair in the world; and So
proud was her father, He would not
let her cut it; so she wore great long
curls, dropping down her shoulders to
her belt; and drawn back from her brow
with blue ribbon. And such bright
curls as there were on her forehead and
behind her ears-littls rings that the
wind tossed about her eyes! used tc
think she was the finest lady of :hem
all, with her sweet, pure ways, just as
fresh as a little child's. So / do not
wonder that any one could help loving
Louie Irvingh1m.
found out suddenly, that John loved
/ her-and that did not surprise me al
+ first. He used to drive the Hall car,
: riage, until he bought his yacht-for lie
loved the sea more than anything else
, Miss Emily had old Robert, who had
been there ever so many years; but John
was so careful and steady that, from hi:
place in the stables, Mr.. Alfred had him
drive his carriage. So he knew Miss
Louie as well as /, ever since he used tc
/. carry her in his arms, and hold her on
the backs of the horses-as she used "a
: love to ride. Then, when she grew
older, it was John who taught her to
, ride, and went with her-and i think
they set enc another's beauty off, even
if it is foolish 10 say so. But when
. found he loved her / was little trou'
, bled.
1t was this way. 1t was late in the
fall, and Joe was not back yet, and the
!, family at the Hall were to leave that
week for town. Miss Emily and all.
remember the day had been sultry fol
September, the last day of the month
and the sun had left the sky lurid. Tht
, sea was fine sight; the red sky had
given it fiery look, and the greer
lights of the waves broke in bits Of opa
) like foam. The sun showed q few smack
and small craft taeking against th'
night breeze, and the beach, had it
crowds of finely dressed people from th'