Daily Kennebec journal. [microfilm reel] (Augusta, Me.) 1870-1975, 1874-03-27
earn what had happened while he was


absent.
Look here, Bessie" he would say,
reckoning her aside .'what has Tom Ste
veins been doingp Has he made faces at
you? or pulled your hair9 or pinched
You? or hid your bonnetP If he has III
thrash Him.
Meek, forgiving Bessie, shrank from
making trouble but, through her or some
Une else, he was sure to learn the truth,
and then woe for Tom. Once he was
compelled to ask Bessie's pardon before
us all; once to lift her over the many pools
of water a heavy shower had lefl standing
in our homeward road once to bring her
two sticks of cream candy; and the end
was that before the summer was out John
had thrashed him into quite a gentleman.
But this was one OF John Farley's ac-
complishments. His pockets were always
full of young wintergreens or sassafras
bark, or spruce gum. He knew where
the speckled trout lay hid in the brooks,
and what days the pickerel would bite,
and all about the mud-turtles, musk-rats
and eels. He had found the nest OF the
hermit thrush, and the whip-poor-wllls
eggs on the bed of moss in lonely pas
ture. and would tell wonderful stories OF
woodchucks, and hawks and owls. He
could 90 straight to the spot where the
wild strawberries grew thickest, and the
first running blackberries were ripe. And
many long ramble Bessie and had with
him on Saturday afternoons, through the
woods and by the stream that wound its
way among the green meadows below
the village; for the minister and his wife
had always a kind word for John, and
assured the deacon that they believed he
would yet "come out right
As for Bessie, John was the hero OF her
Narrow world; the prince to whom. in
her fancy, all things ministered. Among
nv aunt's books was al Robinson Crusoe,"
which when baby Win did not demand at
tention. we read together. sitting beneath
the old elm tree in the garden. Il think"
said Bessie, as we finished it, Il think"
said Bessie, as we finished il. II think
Robinson was just like John. But oh,
hope John will never run away to sea. l
should be so lonesome without him."
The pleasant summer drew TO an end.
With tears and promises to come again,
parted from Bessie and went back to my
city. That winter We exchanged various
childish letters, and was secretly looking
forward to possible return in the spring,
when in March came the news of my aunt's
sudden death, and in the May following an
extension of my fathers business involved
our removal to distant part of the coun-
try. Thenceiorward Marston and Bessie
belonged not to hope but TO memory
memory which always brought them ten
derby to mind. but fainter and fainter as
time wore on bearing me to new and more
absorbing scenes.
Twenty years had come and gone !;
twenty years apart from the life OF my
childhood No longer Mary Temple. but
Mrs. Chester, | came to New England to
pass the summer, and fixed upon Bears
Head, on the New Hampshire coast, as a
place where could spend the month Of
August. The hotel was ample enough
to accommodate hundred guests, and
filled with people from Boston and the
large towns in the interior, who passed
the time in the usual lounging. bathing.
watering-place fashion, and devoted the
evenings to dancing in the broad parlor.
1t was glorious weather for the first
week after my arrival, and / was hardly in
doors from its beginning to its end. What
delight it was to breathe again the air of
the sea; to watch the tides come and
90, while the crested waves rolled shore
ward and dashed into sprays at my feet;
off on the horizon to see the white winged
fleets sailing away to the Grand Banks
and the stormy Labrador, fearless as the
gulls that circle above them; to mark
when the sun went down the lighthouse
fires, and all night long to hear the thun-
der of the surf upon the strand
The wind shifted. Heavy fogs obscured
the ocean and crept over the land, and but
for the muffied roor of the breakers,
might have thought was in the middle of
western plain. betook myself to my
room, and in the pages OF Palgrave's
ARABIA" forgot the gloom of the north.
east. How subtle q power is memory.
There are periods in our lives which seem
almost Observation-Disclosures in the vista of
the past-when 10 in an unexpected mo-
ment, a glance, a tone. watt of perfume
ishcd scenes the freshness OF to-day.
A knock at the door disturbed my rev.
erie. Supposiug it was the chambcrmaid
on her usual rounds, / said, Come in, :"
withou. even raising my eyes. Some one
entered and. going to the washstand
must excuse the delay to-day. The wet
WedtucI HiuueIS INC Woih az INC iauuuIy
and the clothes have only just been
brought over.
The gentle, quiet tones arrested my at
tention, and looking up saw not Bridget,
but a slender delicate looking woman, per-
haps thirty five years of age, whom had
once had a glance of on the stairs and
whom took to be the housekeeper. She
was pale and careworn. but there was
something very pleasing in her mild blue
eyes, and her brown hair waving softly
back from her forehead. while her black
alpaca gown aud narrow linen collar,
fastened with tiny brooch. seemed quite
in keeping with her voice and micn.
Whom did she recall looked at her in
n kind of maze when she said: