Marshall County Republican. (Plymouth, Ind.) 1856-1878, 1869-01-28

tual ear>shot, the echo OF Sadie's mourn
full papa! papa!'
Years rolled away, and Sadie Warren
grew to womaphood. Her life was one
of peaceful occupations, of study and oI
quiet pleasures There was very little in
John Hancocks house TO awake the in
stincts of her higher nature. 1t was q
thoroughly happy home. Three daugh>
tiers and a son were brought up in the
modern manner; learning what was taught
at school, playing the piano little, speak,
ing execrable French and worse German
dancing, and doing moderately well all
that their loving, commonplace parents
required them to do. In housework and
needlework the girls were proficients; and
young John looked forward to seat in
his fathers counting house as the climax
of earthly ambition. There was no favor
itism among the kindly heads Of the house
and Sadie Warren shared every study
and every advantage of John Hancock 4
daughters; she went 10 school, had mas
tiers, dressed like the others, shared every
invitation, and was of the house in all
senses of the word.
But caging an eaglet among barnyard
fowls will never make chicken or duck
of the young prince of air. and the great
heart and SOL imprisoned in the girls frail
form sought and found vents of which the
household around her never dreamed
Music with her was not a mere study oil
exercises end pretty airs, tame polkas, OF
insipid waltzes. II was a medium by
which genius could convey its beauties to
heart and ear. The little world around
her said, That is one of Sadie's fancies.
when some grand harmony broke from
her inspired voice or fingers, and never
dreamed that the fancy was born of a heart
and brain far above the dull routine oI
their life. When her check flushed or hei
brain grew dizzy over some masterpiece o
poetry. or her whole being seemed exalted
before painting or expanse of scenery
there was no other heart TO meet hers in
the rebound and claim kindred with lis
high pulsations. She lived alone an inner
secret life that met no eye, while her out,
ward bearing was so gentle, unassaming
and retired, that 'Sadie's shyness' passed
into p.overb.
And in this inner life of dreaming was
slrined the memory Of her dead mother
and the hope of one day meeting her un
known father. lie had left them when
she was only four years old. writing 10
John Hancock of some wonderful scheme
by which he was to realize his darling's
fortune, and from that time all trace oil
him was lost. John believed him dead
but Sadie never listened for a moment IL
the Suggestion. Some day in the far fl>
ture lie would come TO her, and her soul
meet the companlonship and sympathy for
which it longcd. He would understand
her music; he would fill her hone with
paintings; would take her abroad tO see
the wonders of nature and Tt; and would
read with her from her favorite poets. As
young girl waits for the prince who is to
WOO, win and carry her off to happy life
in the future, Sadie looked fer the coming
of the father who was toiling for her in
some far away country.
s, had passed her twentieth birthday,
when her mothers uncle died, and left
her legacy that would suffice for all her
simple wants, though far too small TO give
her all the luxuries Of art that her genius
craycd. She offered all al first to her fOSE
ter father. who Indignantly denied that
she had ever been burden to him, and
bade her make herself fine with her mod>
est income.
Twenty years had passed since Sadie
Warrens birtL>dav, and in small tene.
ment house in populous town, man sal
dreaming of her baby face. An old, old
man, pitifuily aged and worn. The winter
winds were gathering, sending chill blasts
of air through the thin, cracked walls OF
the uouse.
i wonder ifhe will come he muttered
as he drew his old coat close around him
John Hancock loved me and has been
good to my baby. / wonder if he will
come and take me to the asylum. l an
old and blind and somebody must care fol
me. John Hancock will come and take
me to the asylum, but Sadie must MOI
know
So, wandering, trying TO call up scrap:
of old, long forgotten interests, now talk
ing of his child, now of his wife, now oil
the unattainable riches, John Hancock
found him.
He was an old man, too, but hale anC
hearty, surrounded by every comfort tina
life of honest industry could gather. Ii
the kind heart there beat as warm and q:
true love for his old friend as ever hat
been there. and he had come at once in an
swer TO fhe CALL
john. Murray Warren cried as the steI
of his old friend sounded on the floor. 8
cannot SEQ you, John, bat you are there
know
Il am here. Why, old friend, how il
ihis?'
Il would not have sent for you, John
but the doctors say must go to the asy-
lum and there is NO one 10 take me there
l tried hard to make a fortune for Sadie
but everything went wrong. l have beer
all over the country seeking. but found M
gcld for my child. But she is with you
ana you will not LET her want, will you
Jobn?'
She is in better keeping than min'
now.'
'Dead?' he cried.
No, no. She is married, and in q hom,
Of her own. She married painter wht
Ia not very rich to he sure hut thew seen