The Marietta journal. [volume] (Marietta, Ga.) 1866-1909, 1873-05-30
CHE sAarietta gollrnal.
iron THE MARIETTA JOURNAL.
MY BROTHER JOHN.
Z INV 4 -
BY ANNIE MARIA.

The form of Hercules; the heao
and shoulders of an Adonis thick
curling masses of nut-brown hal'
tossed carelessly back from mass
i've brow; mouth as sensitive anc
tender as that of a woman; great
wide. open gray eyes that seemed e
look way down into the very depths
of your soul; a heart in keeping
with the body it inhabited by ma
ture as simple and gentle as a little
child; yet stern too when he chose
to be-and this was my brother
John.
We we're quiet, old-fashioned PEG
pie, mother, John and |, and we liv'
ed in quiet old fashioned way III
quiet old fashioned village,
1t had not been thus always
Years ago when father had been a
wealthy merchant. and John a rising,
young collegiau, we had all lived in
the populous city of N. surround
ed by perfect whirlpool Of gayety
and fashion. But father failed sud
denly. The house, every one had
thought built up sof strongly and
carrying on such an extensive busi>
ness, through the perfdy of one of
the partners, came down with an un-
expected crash People wondered,
peopled stared, people talked Yes,
there was no denying it, we were
penniless. Father did not long sur
vive the blow. In one short week
thereafter he died. A soul as grand
and truthful as his could not credit
dishonesty in another. He had been
too confding, and here is where the
mistake lay.
John came home from college,
Not one murmur escaped his lips at
thought of the lost honors, which
would have been his in few short
months. Scarcely anything was
saved from the wreck = only a small
pittance, still more meagre in APP
pearance when compared to the lux
uryt to which we had been used to
all our lives. What was to be done
nowg John suggested the country.
Poor fellow although he never said
word, yet mother and | could see
how deeply it wounded him to move
among those, who in weather. days
had sworn eternal friendship, anc
now passed him by with cold looks
and averted faces. "
To the country we came, and in
the sweet little village of Southdale
shut in by the blue fringe Of noun
tains, and its sunny stretches OF
meadow land, and tall unbroken
hills, with the river murmuring a
ccaseless lullaby, John rented a
farm, and we settled down to our
life of quiet, unalloyed happiness.
Two years more, and John, by
economy and industry, had bought
the place. Mother and | made
numerous improvements in the house
and grounds, and in all the country
round you could not have found a
lovlier home than ours.
The years passed on. 1t was sew
en- now since we came here. The
former life of gayety and strife had
passed away as a dream. In the
deep thankfulness and quiet content
of our hearts we asked no higher lot
of Heaven.
/ do not know how Muriel Strath-
borne ever found track of US, since we
had remained hidden from the world
all this time; or what evil genius
ever put it into the girls head t.
write us that letter inviting herself
to our home.
~ am so weary Of the monotony
of this iife," she wrote, "and for q
breath Of pure, fresh, country all
and few weeks of quiet and peace.
What could we do but send her
word to come I? Common politeness
bid that. Yet, during the days that
elapsed between the mailing Of the
letter telling her to come, and the
time when she should arrive, | spent
in constant seedlings and frettings.
Sometimes mother too joined in,
while John looked on apparently
much amused.
| never had liked Muriel Strath-
borne much. We had become ac-
quainted at boarding school, and one
winter, during Johns absence at
college, she had visited me at my
home in the city. Therefore, John
had never fseen her. MurieI was
naughty, vain and proud; fond oil
dress and show, and a perfect CO
quette, as both mother and / knew
Was it wonder then that looking al
John we both fell to thinking Of the
same thing, and trembied for th'
consequence which might come o
her VISIT But John all uncon
scious Of our thoughts, kept on witt
his work, and seemed more deepl,
absorbed in his books than ever.
The day of MurieIs expected ar
rival came at last--a bright sun
shiny one of mid summer. Thu
birds in the old elms on the lawr
poured forth song of gladness tn
flowers 10 the yard nodded thei
heads to ard fro under the Sigh
breeze ripping over them. Early
after breakfast, at our request, Johr
drove over in the spring wagon t.