The Republican journal. [volume] (Belfast, Me.) 1829-current, 1874-10-29
From Lippineott's Magazine
Miss Fitch.
Bl- Lucy ELLEN GUERNSEY.

at is likely to be i fine day, think. .
continued Miss Fitch, leaning out of the
window far enough to catch a glimpse OF
the western sky. GLOW lovely it is after
the rain"
1t certainly was very pleasant. Miss
Fitch lived in one Of the broad, clean.
pretty two-story house, rather tall for it.
size, as houses are apt to be in those parts
| The pillared porch was overrun with vel
low honey suckle, and the magnolia rose
| (beautitul alike for its flowers and foliaoe)
as was also the roof of the picturesque and
convenient appendage peculiar, believe,
to West jersey houses, and called a
Summer Kitchen Everything that
could be painted was painted with white
or green. Everything else was white
washed tor in West Jersey you cannot be
a Christian unless you whtewash twice a
year. There were two great linden trees
in front Of the house, Just now in blossom
and resounding with the fmurmur OF in
Vulnerable bees" The air, just slightly
salted, was heavy with scent of yellow
honey ysuckle. The only gloomy things
about the place were tie black ribbons
which fiuttered from the shutters, and
| Miss Fitch's own dress, which was of the
deepest black, only relieved by a plain
collar OF clear muslin.
| As Miss Fitch learned from the window
an Old colored man passing in the street
| took off his hat to her
Good evening, Uncle Jacob. said Miss
| Fitch. "Wait a moment. ! want to speak
| to you" Miss Fitch put on her hat and
went out on the steps 10 question the old
| man about some one OF his numerous
Melindy Or Sally OF Hudly
who wanted a place
What beautiful flowers - said She,
looking at the bunch of laurels which the
| old man carried. Il had not realized that
| the laurels were already in blossom"
Il brung 'em along a-puppus for Miss
Fitch" said Uncle Jacob. II member
just how your ma used to like en- Mem
Der just like twas yesterday scoiu' your
ma a-settin' in the wagon, and Matt Gar
rison a-bendin' down The bushes for You to
break OFT the posies Matt was a nice
boy; You don't know what's become of
hn 1 spose0
II believe he lives in South America, ~
said Miss Fitch accepting the flowers with
thanks, Good evening, Uncle Jacob
Send Sally up in the morning.
Miss Fitch retreated to the parlor and
sat down behind the hali-closed shutters
She looked AT the flowers int she did not
see them Another picture was before her
eyes. She saw her mother, even then an
invalid, sitting smiling and pleased in the
little carriage-the hali-cleared spot in the
opening-the pond with a bank OF bright
orange-colored sand rising behind 1.-THE
vanished leaves OF the holly and oak scrub
rejecting the sun--the velvet shadows
and warm solid lights of the late after
noon; and amid all herself, a young girl OF
eighteen, reaching up to gather the eX-
quisite pink and white and crimson buds
and flowers which Matthew Garrison bent
down to her twenty years ago. In another
moment The picture was gone, shaken, as
its reflection in the pond might have been.
by sudden gust of sobs-blOtted out by
Il rain Of tears. There was no rebellion,
and hardly any bitterness, in her grief
Even in the midst of it her heart was say
ing again and again, 1T was all well it
was best 50. Not my will, but Thine be
done"
You see, the faith Of this gentle lonely
lady was not bankrupt. 1t was perfectly
solvent, ready to answer in a moment, and
in the purest gold, any call which might
be made upon it. She was quite composed
again in five minutes. and rose to put her
flowers i'll water. Having arranged them
to her satisfaction, she went out to the
kitchen, where an ancient black woman
presided.
Il think | shall go to town tomorrow
Aunt Katy" said Miss Fitch.
"Do telln returned Katy. Comm
home at night ?n
Il think not. ! believe shall stay all
night, and come home in the boat next
day"
do tell y said Aunt Katy again. 1t
was a remark which she considered per-
tinent to any subject or event "Well,
I'll have your breakfast bright and early,
and guess I'll better speak to the omnibus
tonight"
Miss Fitch had always been called
Miss Fitch Even in her youth she had
never been called Mary Anne by any one
but her mother, She might fairly be
called an old maid, seeing that she was
nearer forty than thirty. Her soft brown
hair showed no traces of gray, and was
equally guiltless of cushions or frizzles
Her dress looked like dress, and not like
a rag-bag, though ii was sufficiently in the
prevailing fashion not to be singular, and
it was absolutely neat and delicate even in
It's blackness. Miss Fitch was an orphan,
her mother having passed away some six
months before. Edward Garrett, who
ought to know better. says somewhere
that orphanage is not touching at forty |
believe it is often far more bitterly felt at
forty than at fourteen. read in the paper
the other day of lady who died at the
age Of one hundred and ten, leaving a
single daughter of eighty. ! do not be-
lleVe the world held a more desolate
orphan than that maiden lady of fourscore.
Miss Fitch did not recollect her father
She and her mother had lived on quietly
together ever since she could remember,
neither rich nor poor, having enough to
keep themselves and Aunt Katy, and some
lhing besides TO give away. They were
great readers of all sorts of books. and
Miss Fitch had inherited a couple of shares
in the Philadelphia Library, which gave
the use OF good many volumes in the
course OF year She and her mother
mad been all in all to each other Now
the mother was gone, and the daughter
felt forlom and lonely, as if her work in
the world was done But she did not give
up life for a bad business even now. She
lived quietly and cheerfully on in the little
house in Lime street, reading her books,
studying her Bible, teaching her regular
evenings in the school which few chari-
table ladies had set up for the factory
girls, making baby things for friend in
town who dealt in such mysteries, and
waiting on Providence.
81 am well and strong" she reasoned
within herself; II am as like to live as
ever was; and have money enough to
support myself and Katy. 1t stands to
reason that | must have something to do
in the world yet, and have faith to believe
that my work will be shown to me when
the time comes"