Wilmington journal. [volume] (Wilmington, N.C.) 1844-1895, 1869-10-22

people Conld she even feel sorrow, O,
would not the sunshine break though her
tears?
You have no heart, Rue.
None, Fred. Now You have got that
foolish idea into your head that because ]
laugh great deal, and see the ridiculous
In so many things, I cannot ever be Sc
rious
1t would be hard to find & subject to
make you think seriously upon, he answer
ed, shaking his head
Do you think so indeed ? Then you are
unjust to me. You think I have no
heart
And had she-was she indeed so foolish ?
All, Fred cousin Fred
She was girl who had no sort of shy.
ness about her, who was as full of fun and
frollc as summers day is of sunshine;
VINO mlght pe met running about the
house after the children, singing and
laughing with them; or who held sage
Lord Burleigh councils as to how the cold
leg of mutton might be cut up aud hashed
to the best advantages; who laughed some.
times until the tears came into her eyes al
her own queer observations, and who ten
minutes later. was to be found dreaming
IN q morbid fit of the blues out in the star
light. The jolliest. kindest young soul
that ever lived, whom the children loved
and the servants worshipped. Other girls
may have done more in their lives, but few
so many little kindly offices for others
Where she got her spirits from was mys-
terry to every one, for never was there g
more lamentable Castle Rackrent of place
than the Hermitage, her fathers place. A
slckly invalid mother, who seldom left her
room, who left house and nursery full ol
children to girl of seventeen a poor
book worm of father, who lived apar
from the family in a sort of world of hit
own, who only came upon the scene wher
there was bill to be paid, or a whipping
administered to one of the children.
don't know why l have taken this las
chapter of Ruth's life to writo about, ex
cept that ] was in need of some little re-
membrance of her. for she and her plea
SAINT ways have fallen out of my life. O
what avail was all the love that nv little
Rue had gotten to herself when the time
came that Gods hand was stretched out to
gather the sweet spring flowers and bear
them away to His own eternal garden,
away from the ''evils to Gomez" Whether
cousin Fred loved her, whether the chill.
drel and their father could spare her,
whether Hetty began to find out that life
at the Hermitage without kind, patient
Ruth would become simply drudgery No
human love could avail. She died.
The children stole in and kissed her
white face. and then began to cry. Cousin
Fred, away with his regiment in far
country, felt as if he didn't want ever to
see the Hermitage again because Rue was
gone out of it.
The years go over, and children's voices
sound, laughing and singing, through the
rooms, and in the garden. But Ruth new
er joins in their play, or peeps in to whis-
per "Hush!'' and a caution that poor
mamma has a headache" Some one
plays and sings in the library of evenings
where she used to sing, but her young
voice is singing in the celestial songs
among the choirs of angels. Ruth's cana
ry, frail little bird with poor worthless
life, sings all day in its cage in the draw
ing-room; but the strong heart of its mis-
tress is still forever and forever