The Pulaski citizen. [volume] (Pulaski, Tenn.) 1866-current, 1870-10-21

lures and music, where the love or Jne /
! true and beautiful should never starve
+ for lack Of nourishment there, the
schooI-room buzzing with childish
! voices the play-room gay with their
! laughter = the dining-room bounteous
with good cheer; the dOrmitOry, with
its rows of white beds, whose pillows
should be pressed by little heads no
more homeless and lovelesS.
1t was late when they parted. DIR.
| Hope had uttered not a single word OF
announcement He could not. look
into the bright, true face, and tell her
of the difficulties, the long, slow IabOrs-;
I the disaDpointed love. the hope defer
red, and ask-wouId not her courage
fail? There would be time enough to-
show the darker side tomorrow to-
night, at least, he-JVoHle cast no -shad-
0ws. '"-1 e - " 80 s1@ = - p
p" The msrroW dropped its it, (. own shaq7l
/ oW ,.-.,--.--- 80 Go r. y %
WI4iie ethel stiii slipped her break
! fast-cOffee, adispateh was put into her
! hands. f-s4 f-f si ylsa..H fsl a.s sE.l.e
"Your uncle is dying. Come hOme7'g
So the sad world of the real blotted1
| out her dream3aild. 8EeE
| "My pooruncle had breathed his last
an hour. before reached home. His
| disease was a violent disorder of the
i brain, induced, as the physicians now
! believe, by extreme mental agony. He
was deliriOus from his first attack, and
called wildly for me. I cannot die
| he cried, unless Ethel fOrgives me !
No one understood it until afterW ards
Then. it was quite plain. My poor,
dear uncle! my darling mothers only
brother! I would not write a harsh
word of him now. He is beyond the
| reach of our poor Judgment; in the
hands of Gods infinite mercy. And l
! know he never meant the wrong he
has done me-he thought to make all
right in the end. !, Y You know told yoh.
THAT begged him when l came Of age,
ITO keep everything of mine in his own
hands. l. knew nothing of business,
and had such confidence il him. So
he had been my agent since, as he was
my guardian before. He must have
risked his own property in eXLravagant
speculatiOns all along, though i never
igsuspected it. At last, when all he had
was in imminent peril, he threw mine
into the breach, trusting thus to save
all. But everything is gone, and we
have not a penny. 1 pity Aunt and
the girls far more than myself-they
are quite crushed and helpless. Only,
when think of my plan for the orphan
children, it seems heard to bear. But
FGod knows best, and perhaps ! should
4 never have succeeded. You will tell
: DR.. Hope about it, won't yOu2 And
do not feel grieYed or anxious for me.
I can get. plenty of music-schOlars, and
my teacher used often to tell me that
: the little sketches and painting made
: at school, would bring me money if
were poor. So you must think of me
as content" Fl
six months later Ethel Stanley sat
, I in her studio, a plain little room, yet
t not without that distinctive character
| which her magnetic nature impaired tc
] the simplest surroundings. 80.
There was a tap at the door, and Ethe
= rose and opened it -four some OnewhC
5 stood still a moment in the shadow
e and then lifting his face with smile
y like sunshine, stepped across the thres
l hold. DIR. Hope : Ethel did not star
i or exclaina. Could it be that, silent
and absent, he had still a near life il
e1 her thought? such presence as oul
S dead sometimes have with us, so tha
S If they were to come to us, .-a. a-..
sswith living touch, M
Though we know they are silent -.
4 - And buried and dead,
4 l-s We should not wonder much?"
Il have a little story to tell you
= Ethel" he said, when they had talked
: awhile of the Dudleys, and he had tOlC
f her how they grieyed at her perSiatcn
a refusal to become 4 dependent upon theil
: | slender means. -E
"Once oh 4 time l will not say how
o many years ago, an OTphan-bOy, toe
! Young to remember the home and iOv'
:, he had lost, was cast, poor, fFiendless
? and among strangers. The years pas
and brought him various fortunes. Ili'
: world did not crowd him from its thronS
Z of struggling workers, nor refuse hin
= standing-roOm among those who esSayeC
to climb. Yet it was not Il world tina
e loved its Own.' The want that fell t.
!, his lot was sadder sthanthat OF food o
shelter poverty which even palac
y walls cannot always exclude, crOuchIne
4 wOlf-like famine stealing into the yer,
u heart of plentiful years,-tlle dearth o
t, sympathy, the loneliness of Il soul stand
e ing by itself,
, ttHe Travelled near and far; he SAW tn
II great world on both sides of the sea
d then he came back like weary child, t
l. rest among his native hills.
d ''Opce when he was younger, he ha
le seen the summer sunlight shine bac
d upon him from the eyes of little twelve
70 year old maiden, who held his hand, an
,e tripped beside him in the fearless trus
of childhood. Now, she came again,
woman. young, gifted and lovely, rich i
- the treasurers of the world, but her tru
~ eyes still undaZzled by its glitterinG ial
III sity. And he loved her, Ethel. He 81
at her feet and saw his own imper.e(
Is aims sIIriveI in the light of her pure
ef Aspirations. He loved her but he cOUi
D. not ask her to mate the dew of her yOut
e, with the frost of his early Autumn tim
W She went away, and tidIngs came to hi
ut of loss and sorrow, and disappointment
s. which fell upon her, which she met wit
lg dauntleSS courage and unchllled faith.
le 'Can you guess how, as days al
ne months went by, he lOnged to take IN
N in his arms-his very oWn-out OF Il
Ehn
IT of his love? Can you guess how, WhC
er the silence ached within him till his vel
nd heart was like to break, he went forth
,is seek her, holding in his hand his ol
trembling hope, as once the first-bol
II. was borne up the mount of socrifice
in He daused, but she did not answe
Ter Her head sank low and lower over h
nj elasped hands.
u, IN 8 Ethel Ibis voice was nnspeakab
II solemn AMI rtender-'' Ethel, if he rs
ba bI1e yon now, tonight, would you go wi
I him? y & s.a o. e f
lbs And Ethel answered, q will CO.,
The May-tlOwers were just trailh
10 their fringe Of fragrant blossoms alol
an the hem of the vanishing snOw-dri
when DIR. Hope carried home his briC
Fair and stately in its renovated pI
portions stood the home upon the hi
side; light and warmth awaited them
side the threshold, and love entered w
them, a guest whose parting none shot
speed forever more.
Nor ever since have failed benes
20 their roof shelter for the homeless, fC
for the hun CRY, OF comfort for the for
ken.
And thus has Ethel Stahley's Dire
md come true. ...-.f- -szzz --
out -~------ss-.------.4 = --efe;l =,
81 At Munich the first captive who
, so was Turco, Ben ConedeF MahOmed.
sol Bavarian company of infantry, W
a drums, and a number of citizens, he
Ipie ed by Catholic priest, followed
all coffin, on which was placed the SC
EII- ier's turban and BaVarian saber.