The Kenosha telegraph. [volume] (Kenosha, Wis.) 1860-1888, 1870-09-29
ANNIE'S VERSES.

the sunset. The tTltl is, that she was la
zy Her two sisters looked on her as ut.
terly lost. She was altogether useless,
and did not centribdteene jot to the gen
eral fund of labor. There was not on all
Long Island, so lazy maiden. She knew
not how to make pastry or butter Her
sewing was wretchedly crooked and I'M
even and as to knowing anything about
cutting out dress, why Sister Anne
might as soon be expected to draw out
the plan of q fertilization as to perform
that nice and intricate branch of the fe-
male mechanics She loved the woods,
however, and the green leaves, and was
very industrious in,the line of gathering
wild flowers and attending on the birds.
She was slave to the feathered tribe.
She was generally up tree when she
should have been mending stockings, and
those wildwood sports of hers did not
produce very favorable effect upon her
toilet. Her gowns were sadly rent; and
her shoes wore out with the most aston
ishing rapidly; while the marks, of
thorns on her small, delicate hands, and
the tan on her quiet, dreamy face were
not the most favorable additions to her
personal appearance She was a moral
weed in a family of thriving and useful
Eplants; a toy in the midst of whole
factory full of industrial machines. In
vain did mother and sisters demonstrate;
in vain did they point to baskets full of
awful shirts yet unsewnrl, and terrible
handkerehiefs yet ,l1nhenamed Sister
Anne turned lazy glance and deaf ear
to all, and fed to the fields, wdeie the
singing of the birds and the breath of
the flowers consoled her for all her
troubles.
So Sister Anne sat on the porch and
dreamed. Was it of her friend the cat
bird, or her comrade the oriole? Did
! flowers dance before her mind IS eye, or
did she wander amid visionary forests !?
Something tells me that Sister Annie
dreamed of none of these, much as she
loved them. But two summers ago, "a tall
young fellow, with blue bright eyes, and
long dark hair, came to board for three
months at the house, bringing with him
small valise and ailarge sketch book.
He, two, like Sister Anne, wandered all
day in the woods and fields, and sittoften
happened that they wandered together
They explored the pleasant beaches that
lie along the Sound opposite to the hazy
Norfolk shore. They watched the gam
bols of the sunshine upon the blue waters
and the plumy woods; and that summer
Sister Anne heard sweeter music than the
song of birds, and had other companions
| than the orioIe and cat-bird The young
artist, Stephen Basque, was a new reve-
lation TO the young girl. For the the first
| time she had found one who understood
her love Of Nature, and did not look up
on her alteration of birds and flowers as
mere folly. He talked of art and beauty,
and Sister Anne awakened to poetry, un.
til then a divinity unknown. He lent
her couple of volumes of Tennyson, and
she beheld how, bya magic art, life and
substance, and all the passion and beau
ty of earth, could be transferred into
print and paper to live forever. In the
midst Of this delightful dream-dream
far more delicious than all her bird and
forest visions, Stephen Basque packed up
his small valise and large sketch.book
and went off to New YORK City to pur
! sue his art Poor Sister Anne was left
doubly alone; and when she went out
into the fields for the first time after his
| departure, It seemed as if the birds no
longer knew her as of old She wander
ed now less than of yore, but shut her.
self.up in her room, which soon began to
| be Uttered with bits Of paper scrawled
| all over. Her mother and sisters gIum-
BLEED in vain her little room was to her
sanctuary, and she fed there from per-
secution 1t seems then to me, that at
the moment alluded to, Sister Anne sat
| Il Il Of %ny Nl10,,
Basque. ~ t.ha Is g. 7ef- ssAtJ ~
CAS- usual-idle! Will you never do
anything useful, child?" cried Mrs. Ply
mott, Sister Apne's excellent mother
g Look at your sisters busy on fathers
Shirts and you-you do nothing but sit
ike lady, al day long, with your hands
before you" - rs SEEN"
al can't work, mother, answered Sis
ter Anne, starting from her reverie with
an expression Of sudden pain, as the old
lady emerged from the cottage door, her
large hands parboiled with washing. 81
know l am very useless to you, but it
pains me to sew" foel1 o .asgl
Pains trash! cried Plymott. 81" You
are the skit of the whole village. Do
you know what they call you You don't!
well they call you Mother Plymott's
Duchess" a a
Sister Anne smiled sadly. .,
eve have no titles in America" she
said, $50 they are wrong"
ooh it's easy for you to turn it into a
jes4, but tell you it's no joke for me to
have child that is not able to earn a
cent for herself, or save one for me.
What would you do if father or were to
die? How would you earn your bread,
ell ?" -.
at don't know exactly" said Anne,
but don't suppose that God would al
low me to die Of starvation any more than
] L. nIlnu-s the --rnAin md the Chi n1ninc-