The Democratic advocate. [volume] (Westminster, Md.) 1865-1972, 1870-07-14
Original Story.
For the Democratic Advocate.
SISTER AGATHA.
BY sTRA-HMoRE.

The sweet breath OF the violet comes
floating into my open window, aud the
voice Of Spring softly woos me to lay
aside my pen aud bask in the sunny
brightness ofthis May morning Some.
how the warbling melody of the bird on
the bough SO uear me, carries me back
years and years ago, "when was but a
child" And | nvoluntarily look up to
meet the loving glance that once rested
upon me. All! how dimly the truth
dawns on my miud-alone, alone Sure.
ly | have lived an old maids life too
long to shudder at its loneliness, but
this morning, with the sweet scent of
the violet, came SO vividly the memory
OF love and sister-and Of the happy
childhood, when seated in my little
chair listened with absorbing dtten.
tion to the wonderful fairy stories that
Kathleen never wearied of telling me.
know that l am selfish in my love,
and that she is happy in the life she
has chosen, "the world forgetting, by
the world forgot" but my heart yearns
today to fold her again in the fond em.
brace OF the olden time.
We were only sisters, Kathleen and
1, and loved each other dearly. l was
much younger, and our mother gave
me into her charge aud keeping as she
lay on her dying bed. l was but very
little child, yet l can remember how
she kissed us both and murmured, "God
bless my darling children, Kathleen be
mother to Mary" l was too young
to understand the great loss that was
coming upon us, and when the tears of
my sister fell fast upon my cheek, l
only wondered what made her weep SO
bitterly. In the days that came after.
ward, Kathleen with a strange steadi.
ness in one SO young, cared for my
childish wants, aud bore patiently all
the out-bursts of anger or childish grief
that l chose to indulge in. We we're
not poor, and our cottage was filed with
everything tasteful and attractive. An
old woman--a faithful domestic who
had lived with our mother since her
marriage-was our only companion; |
cannot call her servant, for VIC re-
spected her too highly to treat her as
such. Aunt Dorcas was devoted to the
orphan children of her "poor missus !"
and her comely black face seemed to us
almost beautiful with the love that
shone in it for us. All! how often as |
walked upon the pebbly shore, aud
clasped in nay hands the shells that she
gathered for me, did the good old crea.
ture tell me of my angel mother "way
up in Hebcu wild the harp in her white
hand" aud she was never tired Of tell.
ing over again the incidents that we're
impressed NEST vividly on her miud.
But "a change came Ger the spirit of
my dreams" When in my thirteenth
year Kathleen decided that should
leave home to become an inmate Of a
select boarding school for young ladies,
about twenty miles from the village
where we lived.
Oh that sad parting from my home
and its beloved inmates Long we
fingered on the beach that last evening
my sister and I, and | kissed the very
turf in my favorite walk under the
orange trees. In little bag that lay
20 my mothers bureau, was some of the
turf Of Erin, her native island home,
and true to her love of country, /
Drought some Of my own SO green and
soit away with me. II is wi,herod and
dried up long since, yet when | press il
to my lips sometimes even now. with
other mementos Of the past, my heart
throbs aud my eyes grow dim.
Dear Kathleen how we'll / remem.