The Andrew County Republican. [volume] (Savannah, Mo.) 1871-1876, 1874-07-31
Aunt Ems Story.

you, 1 felt for the first time the fitness
of the name. Our True Hope. Ever
before it had seemed too much, too
strong a title I would have rendered
it "Our Hope" "The Hope" ETC.,
instead. But now that it has become
the organ of the children, accept it as
proper and euphonious.
Some of you call for my lame and
residence, and 1 am very glad to hear
it but when I tell you that near thirty
nieces and nephews call me Aunt En-
and some of them have done SO for
more than twenty years-you will see
why I call myself SO to you. And, 1
think, if I tell you 1 live in Dane
county, Wis, you will be ready to listen
to my promised story of little Ida.
She was a wee, frail child of six sum-
mers, when she came first to my school
in the long, frame school house which
stood on the banks of a pure, beautiful
stream of water, "the creek" as We
called it, and it had such bright, shiny
pebbles all wei the bottom, and clear
up on the bank, where the tall elm-tree
stood, dropping its graceful branches
clear to the waters surface.
Asmall delicate child, yet seemingly
in good health, unless the thoughtful
dark eyes told of a soul too old for the
infant body. In school Ida was lever
at fault. Lovingly her eyes followed
the teacher and sweetly she obeyed
every behest.
She was never noisy, yet always seemed
happy and fond Of play; and her face
beautiful in every feature and tint of
color, had a way of changing in express
sion to correspond with her feelings,
more so than almost any other person 1
ever met. Never shall forget the look
in her dreamy eyes when she came to
me one day saying she had got a letter
from a far-of cousin, who was coming
soon to make her a visit, and she added,
with a w%istful, ~far-seeing look, very
droll on so small a face: 81 have not
seer her forever and ever so long more
than a hundred years."
"Ida," said ], my mirth checked by
the serious look in the child's eye: "Tda,
I have not lived q hundred years, have
you?"
She drew a long breath, hesitated a
moment, and then said: "No, teacher;
but ! have lived a long, long time
haven't you?"
I told her that it seemed long some
times; what else could I tell the dear
little one?
All through the long summer she
came with her little book snugly tucked
under her arm, not losing m day, and
when in school, she sat on the same
seat, on the very same foot of space,
Just in front of the teachers desk, and
I can even now see the lovely little face
and form just as it was then, but it is
only in memory now, for the pleasant
school-room and sweet face of little Ida,
have both passed away; just as all
things in this world must some time pass
from our mortal sight. But memory |!
blessed memory, clings to them, and
will, we trust, unite us to them, in
that eternal world, by a bond which
cannot be broken.
Two. years later little Ida came to my
once more, but it was in the new
school.house just at the foot of the hill,
and more than half a mile from the
first.
She was not much changed. A little
older and stronger looking. The same
con6ding little face with its
grave, dark eyes, dark brown hair, and
pearly, pink-tinted skin. She was quite
a scholar now, and carried the second
reader under her arm, with the spelling
book, Just as she had used to the prim-
er, and when in her classes read and
quite nicely.
At the close of the term she took the
first prize in her little spelling class,
and it was nice to see the light of her
face as she tripped home after a pleas
ant goodbye to teacher and school.
From time to time for six years l saw
and heard of little Ida, which was all
there remained of her pure, childish
face, for when that time had passed and
Ida was fourteen, a fever swept yer