Iowa voter. [volume] (Knoxville, Iowa) 1867-1874, 1870-05-05
VIOLA.
THRICE LOST
Struggle for . Name.
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CHATTER /.

and golden sands sleeps the good old town
Of Plymouth, memorable, as all the world
knows for being the landing place Of the
English Puritans more than two centuries
ago.
All this, being q matter Of history, we
pass by, and introduce, without further
preamble, the Anderson family. I have
never seen the genealogical records OF the
Andersons, and am not sure of their legit-
innate descent from the Puritan stock
Be that as it may, they inherited their
stern virtue and uprightness of life,
whether 1t came by blood, or by the more
subtle influence which permeated the at.
mosphere where they lived and died 60
nobly and purely.
Benjamin Anderson owned farm of
some sixty acres-very prolific in thistles,
,sweet-fern and philippines. "By the
sweat Of thy brow shalt thou earn thy
bread" admitted of the broadcast and most
literal Interpretation in his case. He
wrought patiently, early and late, and
thereby succeeded in wrenching a com.
Portable living from the unwilling soil.
The sea befriended him in many ways.
1t drove away the frosts that looked envi.
ously on his unripened fields; II washed
lavish quantities Of kelp from its grey
rocks to enrich the soil, and furnished his
table with an abundance of dainty fishes.
It was, beside, continual inspiration.
Rolling in from far away misty skies. in.
finite and illimitable as the thought of
heaven, II sung forever of action, and pro-
sgress, and victory.
The farm house, facing toward the sea,
was backed by q long, low, undulating
hill. and this again by another, more ab.
rupt and pronounced, densely set with
great spreading pines, looking like
vast emerald boulder thrown up
against the pale sapphire of the skies. Be-
low were little riffs Of green valleys; roads
cleaning like pale gold in the sun; shall
low rush. bordered brook, Frightened
by scarlet cardinals, and perfhmed with
sncadOwed mint; and beyond oil, the glare
and fash sparkle of the sea.
1t was lovely place-this pleasant little
farm In the south of Plymouth; had 1t not
been, the Andersons would have long since
listened to the advice of Tom Arnold, Mrs
Anderson's brother, and sold It, Tom
had been In the West dozen years or
more. He had grown rich there, and 50
was enthusiastic about the country. Il is
often the case that Eastern people who do
not grow rich in the West, are not partic-
snlarly enthusiastic shout i'll
Ben Anderson l. d long since given up
the thought Of being rich man, If he had
ever cherished 1t, as he probably had at
some time in his life, as nearly every one
does. He had grown to be content with
what he had, and only now and then
letter from " brother T0m," broke up the
calm Of his spirit. As long as Myra was
content he did not care. But "Myra" was
not exactly content, though he did not
know it. Toms glowing descriptions had
fallen into her heart like spark of fire,
which, as yet, only smouldered in dark
ness and silence She had woman's love
for pretty surroundings. The bare white
door, which she secured thrice q week,
was not quite satisfactory, notwithstand-
ing Its spotless whiteness She had q
very feminine weakness for soft carpets
and "stuffed" furniture, and as Tom
wrote her about his, how elegant they
were, and how much he gave for them,
and 20 forth, her own half dozen "cane
seats" and her carpet manufactured by
her own hands from strips of cloth sewn
together and woven into Q heterogeneous
melaDge of all conceivable colors, grew
more and more unsatisfactory to her.
She had vague idea that the West "
was sort Of Aladdin's Lamp, that trans
muted poor people into rich ones without
the slightest ceremony.
There was another thing that influenced
her. Ralph was most fifteen, and he was
an only child-so much hope centres In
these only children. Ralph reminded her
Of her brother Tom dozen times q day
fiery, daring, ambitious, chatting against
the narrOwness and poverty that hedged
him In, % Tom had done. Tom had gone
West. Ralph declared hts intention Of 90
ing tN sea. This was what filled Hyra An.
derson's heart with fear and dread. Years
go, when she was little more than child,
her fathers vessel was driven ashore on
ManOmet rocks, and captain, mate and
crew, sixteen In oil. were swallowed up In
the boiling surf Long years Of calm and
quiet had slipped between, but through
them all she aw forever ono face, the sea-
wcn tangled in the dripping hair, and
about the neck where her arms had
twined 90 often and 20 fondly. II only
they were West, Ralph would forget his
passion for the sea, she said, sitting with
Toms last letter in her hand, dreaming
some very bright dreams for her boy.
Mother rang out sharp and clear,
her from her pleasant reveric.
She put the letter hastily into her dress
and came out into the little porch! A
door came to with sharp clang, and for
kha f3rat time ahe noticed that II was very