The Manitowoc pilot. [volume] (Manitowoc, Wis.) 1859-1932, 1875-09-30

the nectarines and peaches hung upon tt
gardening man would cross me- and no,
walls, without my ever offering to pluc
them, beca1se they were forbidden fruit
unless now and then, and because / ha,
more pleasure in strolling about among tn
old melanchol looking yew-trees, or tn
frs, and picking up the red berries, and IN
fir apples, which were good for nothing bu
to look at,-or in lying about upon tn
fresh grass with all the fine garden SMELL
around me,-or baski1g in the orangery
TILL | could almost fancy myself ripenin9
too along with the oranges and the lines
In that grateful warmth,--or in watching
the dace that darted to and fro in the fst
pond, at the bottom of the garden, with
here and there a great sulky pike hanging
midway down the water in silent state, as
If it Knocked at their impertinent friskings
i had more pleasure in these busy-idls
diversions than in all the sweet favors OF
peaches, pectariues, oranges, and sachl;ke
common bats of children. Here John
slyly deposited back upon the plate a bunch
of grapes, which, not unobserved by Ahce,
he Ind meditated dividing with her, and
both seemed willing to relinquish them for
the present as irrelevant. Then, in some
what more heightened tone, told how,
though their great-grandmother Field low
ed all her grandchildren, yet in an especi-
al manner she Nigh be said to love their
uncle, John L, because he was so
handsome and spirited youth, and king
to the rest of us; and, instead of moping
about in solitary corners, ike some of us,
he would mount the most mettlesome horse
he could get, when but an imp no bigger
than themselves, and make him carry him
halt oveI the county in morning, and join
the hunters when there were any out,-and
yet he loved the old great house and gar
dens too, but had too much spirit no be
always pent up within their boundaries and
how their uncle grew up to mans estate as
brave as be was handsome, to the admira-
ton of everybody, but of their great grand
mother Field most especially; and how he
used to carry me upon his back when ] was
lamefOOted bcy-for he was good bit
older than me-many a mile when ] could
not walk for pain;-and how in after life
he became lame-footed too and | did not
always (I fear) make allowance enough for
him when he was impatient and in pain,
nor remember sufficiently how considerate
he had been to me when | was lame-foot-
ed; and how when he died, though he had
not been dead an hour, it seems as ifhe had
died a great while ago, such distance
there is betwixt life and death; and how |
bore Lis dea;h as l thought pretty well at
first, but afterwards it haunted nd haunt
e3 mo a-,1 tir,,-.L a. ~
to heart as some do, and as | think he
would have done if had died, yet l missed
him all day long, and knew not till then
how much had loved him. | missed his
kindness, and | missed his crosspess, and
wished him to be alive again, to be quar-
relling with him for we quarelled some
timeS }, rather than not have him again,
and was as uneasy without him, as he their
poor uncle must have been when the doctor
took off his limb. Here the children fell
a-crying and asked if their little mourning
which they had on was not for Uncle John,
and they looked up, and prayed me not to
go on about their uncle, but to tell them
some stories about their pretty dead mother.
Then told how for seven long years, in
hope sometimes, sometimes 10 despair, yet
persistiug ever, courted the fair Alice
W-n; and, as much as children could
uaders tand, explained to them what coy
ness, and difficulty, and denial meant in
maidens, when suddenly, turning to Alice,
the soul of the first Alice looked out at her
eyes with such a reality of representment,
that | became in doubt which of them stood
there before me, or whose that bright hair
was; and while l stood gazing, both the
| NuiiNiSh ouuu4iS SiS" iulotCi ~ VIC v,
receding, and still receding, till nothing at
last but two mournful features were seen
in the uttermost distance, which, without
speech, strangely impressed upon me the
effect of speech: ave are not of Alice,
nor of the, nor are we children at all. he
children of Alice call Bartram father. We
are nothing; less than nothing, and dreams
We are OILY what might have been, and
must wait upon the tedious shores of Lethe
millions of ages before We have existence
and name; and Immediately awaking
found myself quietly seated in my bachc-
lor armchair, where l bad fallen asleep
with the faithful Bridget unchanged by my
81 lie, but John L. Cor James Elia) ives
gone for ever.