The Elk County advocate. [volume] (Ridgway, Pa.) 1868-1883, 1869-03-12
From Harpers New Monthly Magazine.
MY SISTER MARCIA.

You would not think it strange that an
October day has an especial charm for me- if
you knew all the memories which it recalls
This one, with its hazy brightness, its ripe
splendor, is like watt of enchanted ART
carries me back, by spell resistless as fate,
sto two other days-one the darkest, the 9TH
er the brightest of my whole life
\ The dark day was bright enough over
head, remember The sky looked deep and
grand and infinite. 1t was full of glory, as
. the atmosphere was of prismatc haze
through which the distant hills rose purple
. and soft as if they had been the Delectable
Mountains. The apple-tree boughs glowed
with apples, scarlet as balls of fire; grapes
were ripe on the vines; autumn flowers nod
ded along the highway; and the oak woods
in the distance were touched with flame. 1t
~ was just such day as l loved all my life;
but now its splendid brightness was sadder
to me than would have been the widest blast
of winter. l felt something, think, like
deposed queen wearing her royal robes to
J grace the triumph of her conquorer For
=, what would October be to me any more when
strangers foot had crossed the sill and 1
should be no longer at Inglesde?
- To person who had smaller organ Of
locality my grief might have seemed exagger-
nted aud unreasonable; though even such
one could hardly have thought it a triIle for
my father to pass from the comfortable posi-
ton of a we!l-to.ilo farmer, whose crops made
him independent, to that of laborer in 9th
er mems fields, housing his family where lie
could. Bat there are those who understand
that the poverty was not the hardest to any
of us-the bitterest pang was the parting
with the old acres which had been ours SO
long.
had been busy all day, going about the
house, and helping my mother to put things
1 in order, and deciding what we would sell
and what keep. to furnish new refuge for
ourselves somewhere. Marcia she was my
Oldest sstor--h had not been out Of her room
I that day. We called her when dinner was
ready, but she answered that she did not
want any, and we had not disturbed her any
more. | had been willing enough to do all
that was required. 1t helped to pass the
time away, and left the less in which to
think When every thing was done l went
out Of doors. and sat down in the old arbor,
in the midst of the garden. and bowed my
head for waves of trouble to 90 over me-:
wishing vaguely, with eirlish dispajr. that
they would stand me on the desolate shore Of
death.
We had suffered = greut misfortune, and
vet one for which we could BLAME no one.
1t had seemed to come, as the cOronrrs say,
by visitation OF God. Ny father had in
dorsed note for james Harris, my sister
Mnrria's Inv"r. james was young and poor,
and there was M eycaliant- oraninsc far him
No go into business. He put into it the little
money he had himself, and borrowed three
thousand dollars. giving for it the note which
my father indorsed. IT james had lived lie
would have made money, paid interest and
principal, and all would have gone we'll
But he died suddenly, with no time to ar.
range his aI'4irs or even to see Marcia. Be
fore we had heard OF his illness the tilings
came that he was deal. Then his business
was closed up. hurrcdiy and unwsely, as it
almost always is in snch cases, and only
enough accrued from it to pay one thousand
dollars Of his debt. The firm from whom he
he had borrowed the money-a law firm
known as Hope and Goodell--of course came
down upon my father for the rest. We had
no rich friends from whom TO seek assistance.
and not much time. Without doubt, by
smakng proper effort. the money could have
been borrowed, and the farm mortg0ged as
security; but my father was one Of those men
who gave up easily. He thought trying use
les; and so, on the morrow, our home was to
be sold. We considered it worth five thou
aud dollars; but things very seldom bring
their full value uder the hammer. At any
rate, it was going to pass from our hands
this home we had all loved so well-and |
felt rs if my heart would break, as sat there
lone in the arbor and sobbed ont my unrca-
soning dispair.
After while got up and went all round
he place-a sad pilgrimage. To the old
:hestnut-tree, to tie little pine grove on the
hill, to the nook where | had always found
the first violets, to grape-venc, and orchard
but ! picked no grape, gathered no apple
My heart and my step were heavy. / have
Fat like clinging to places by nature, and this
bne place had been all the world to me so
ong. My grandfather had owned it first,
Ind left it, when he died, to my father And
father and mother had lived there all their
married life. We girls had tceu born there,
hnd we had never been long at time out of
sight of those two red chimneys. And now
where should We go? l think Hagar scarce
v felt more desoate when she turned from
he familiar tent door and went ON toward
he desert.
Going into the house l met Marcia who
had come down stairs at last She was in
her deep mourning for James. | believe |
had been feeling hard toward her before, as
if she were in some wise accountable for the
loss that was turning my father and mother
out of their lifelong shelter, But | was
moved with sorrowful compunction when l
! saw her white, still face, whose pallor her
khIsSk robes heightened.
oppose you will almost hate me, Theo," :"
in hopeless, despairing tone. 81
)kuowF seems to you as if had done it. "
My heart melted, and ! tried to comfort
her. And utterjng such words of soothing
es | could, new thought struck me. The
pale was not to take place until the next af-
ernoon; and that would give me time to go
nto town in the morning, aud make per-
onal appeal to Messrs. Hope and Goodell.
wild fancy thSt 1 might effect something
my fathers behalf took possession of me.
he would only be content to let US keep
ur home and pay up the borrowed money,
course of time by installments! To do
pat, thought we could live almost on air
make any sacrifice, no matter how great
rely we could pay up two hundred thou
nd dollars in few years. But WOULD they