Iowa voter. [volume] (Knoxville, Iowa) 1867-1874, 1874-02-05

because ne once fSh away w suC ucAs
town, TO see q travelling circus, TO which
he had been denied admission; and be-
cause one summer Sunday morning, in
the middle of Mr.. Hyde's third sermon
| on the doctrine of election, looking
toward the door, he saw his dog sitting
| solpmnly in the vestibuIe, and, before he
thought, snapped his fingers, so that Fido
| came bounding and barking up the aisle
because of these and similar misde-
meanors, people shook their heads when
| they spoke of him, and prophesied that
| he would come TO no good end. He was
| often away from school, busy with hoeing
or having on his fathers farm; but when
he returned his first care was TO learn
what had happened while he was absent.
aLook here, Bessie" he would say
reckoning her aside, "what has Tom Ste
vens been doings Has he made faces at
your or pulled your hairr or pinched
your or hid your bonnet? If he has IN
thrash him"
Meek, forgiving Bessie shrank from
making trouble; but, through her, or
some one else, John was sure, at length,
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
4 safely over the many pools of water a
heavy shower had lett 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 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 mud turtles and musk-rats
and cells. He had found the nest of the
hermitthrush, and the whip-poor.will's
eggs ON the bed of moss in a lonely pas
tuTe, and would tell wonderful stories of
woodchucks and hawks and owls. He
could go straight TO the spots where the
wild Strawberries grew thickest and the
| first running blackberries were ripe; and
many long Tamble 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 kind word for John, and assured
the Deacon that they believed he would
yet "come out right.n AS for Bessie,
John was the hero Of her narrow world ;
tub w "iDui, III ldutys
things ministered. Among my aunts
books was small Robinson Crusoe,"
which, when baby viii did not demand
attention, we read together, sitting be.
meath the old elm tree in the garden. II
think" said Bessie, as we finished It'll
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 pI omises To come again |
parted from Bessie and went back TO my
city home. 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 aunts sudden death, and In
the May following an extension of my
fathers business involved our removal to
distant part of the country Thence
forward Marston and Bessie belonged not
to hope, but TO memory-memory which
always brought them tenderly TO mind,
but fainter and fainter as time wore on,
scenes.
Twenty years had come and gone;
twenty years quite 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
Boar's Head, on the New Hampshire
coast, as the place where | would spend
the month OF August. The hotel was
ample enough for hundred guests, and
filled with people from Boston and the
large towns of the interior, who passed
their time In the usual lounging, bathing,
watering-place fashion, and devoted their
evenings to dancing in the broad parlor
1t was glorious weather for the first
week after my arrival, and was hardly
indoors from its beginning TO its end.
What delight 1t was TO breathe again the
air of the sea; TO watch upon the beach
the tides come and go, while the crested
waves rolled shoreward and dashed into
spray at my feet; off on the horizon to
see the whitewinged fleets sailing away
to the Grand Banks and stormy Labrador,
| fearless as the gulls that circled above
them; to mark, when the sun went down,
the lighthouse fires, and all night long
10 hear the thunder of the surf upon the
strand.
The wind shifted. Heavy fogs obscured
the ocean and crept over the land, and but
for the mufiled roar of the breakers l
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 power Is memory
There are periods in our lives which
seem almost forgotten blanks In the
vista of the past--when 10! in an unex-
pected moment, a glance, a tone, watt of
perfume evokes the buried years and gives
to vanished scenes the freshness Of to-day
~ n
A knock at the door disturbed my rev.
cry. Surprising 1t was the chambermaid,
on her usual rounds, said, "Come In"
without even raising my eyes. Some
one entered, and, going to the washstand,
laid down pile OF towels, saying: "You
must excuse the delay to day. The wet
weather hinders the work at the laundry
and the clothes have only just been
brought over"
The gentle, quiet tones arrested my
attention, and, looking up, saw, not
Bridget, but slender, delicate looking
woman, perhaps thirty years of age,
whom had once had glimpse of on
| the stairs and whom / took to be the
housekeeper. She was pale and care
4. I H..