The Republican journal. [volume] (Belfast, Me.) 1829-current, 1876-09-21
Hulda.
BY MILTON L. ADKINS.

| y VI
| drawers for days employment
Here is an old file of letters that were
written by dear friend in the long ago
| run over their dim and faded pages, and
pick up again Il part Of thelr freight OF
| hopes and fears and harmless gossip. How
long ago it all seems, and yet how vividly
came back to me the tones OF his CHEEKY
| ringing voice, and the grasp OF his manly
hand a tear falls as think of that brave
young life thrown away in the wilds of the
far west. with nevera word left behind for
the friends who loved him
Slowly put them away and take up an
other. All these are from my father in
he days OF school. How full of paternal
love and advice and solicitudc These are
| from sister--a gentle, blue-eyed creature
who clung to me through all my boyish
| troubles-who believed in me when no
one else did who encouraged nre when
young life seemed a burden. Tears come
again, As | remember anew that fair
spring morning when a voice called her,
and She went out into the great beyond,
| Here is a bundle tied with blue ribbon
and around which lingersa sweet, delicate
perfume even yet, calling back a memory
even more sweet and delicate. All, me !.
Put them all away. Stay; what is this !?
A bundle of sketches. Mountain and
stream, valley and rock, gently rounded
| hi!l, and tumbling cataract
! cs | remember now, the summer |
! made them Fresh and green comes back
the memory of that summer on the French
Road Here is the old red farm house
with its wide rambling doors and win
| dows, and tall, ungainly chimneys. Here
IS the old stone spring-house, under the
wide spread beech, and the cool, gurgling
spring Here is the old iish-trap, under
the tall sycamores, and the ruined mill
under the bank Let's see; it was twenty
years agO--that summer. | was younger
then than | am now, though threads Of
silver. even then, were beginning to show
| themselves in my hair.
1t was an odd chance that threw John
Lane and me together that summer. and
found us located for several months in that
Old farmhouse up in those wild, pictur-
esque hills, lie was ten years younger
than |, but a friendship had grown up be-
tween us, which bridged over this dispar
ity in our ages. and resolved US to spend
the summer together 1t was no wonder
that |, in my aimless bohemian life,
should admire and develop friendship for
John Lane. He had travelled everywhere,
had seen everything that was worth see
ing, and had everything that was worth
reading. His manners were taultleSS his
address the embodiment of courtesy and
pollteness. Add to these a handsome, we'll
developed form and heart oycrllowine
with genial good nature, and you have as
good a picture OF my friend and compan-
ion as ! can draw.
How well | remember our first evening
at the farmhouse The July sun was Just
hanging upon the verge OF the western
horizon rs we trampel wearily up the
dusty lane leading to the house The sky
WAS ilecked over with troops of shifting
clouds, basking in all the warm-tinted
glory OF the setting sun. The laughing
dancing river glinted and glowed in the
level sllnbeams rejecting the great. white
armed sycamores. and the green-b blossom
ed hill beyond. A troop Of house martins
We're tWittering and chatteiing around the
caves and circling noislly overhead. Be
yond the lane a thousand clover blossoms
scented the air with their rich perfume,
among which bees droncd lazily and flew
away heavily ladened to their hives \
halt-dozen big-uddered COWS stood under
q great walnut tree at the end Of the lane
lowing gently to their young. A woman
or girl, we could not tell which-stood
in the large, open gate, pail in hand. and
called in one OF the cows.
BY Jovc!n exclaimed Lane, as he put
down his heavy bundle, and, taking out
pencil and paper, began to sketch.
"Never mind stopping now," ! said;
lets 90 on to the house, | am lired'
"Only moment, Russell" &" he answered
$50! That picture would make a mans
fortune if properly worked out. Cows and
trees and old farmhouse; blooming clio
ver-iieds. and singing milk-maids and red
sunset. You can 90 on, Russell, and see
ii we can get board, while | stay here Il
few moments"
Ipassed up the lane and paused at the
little gate in front of the house. A large.
friendly dog, that would have delighted
the heart OF a Iandscer, came down the
path to meet me He was followed by the
farmer in few moments, who came down
to the gate and inquired my wants
II do know" he said, doubttully, when
made known my desire Of getting rooms
for myself and friend. II do know about
it hardly My ole woman's sick pretty
much all the time. an all the work falls
on Huda. I'll have to AK her about it.
Come in an wait on the porch till she
comes in from milkin', an I'll see what
she says about i1'
accepted this offer gladly, for we had
walked live miles from the little station
and my limbs and feet We're tired | sat
| there and watched the picture watched
the crimson glow in the west deepen and
fade and die away; watched the chatter
ing, circing martins as they wheeled
| through the summer air; watched the
| laughing waters as they reelected the
white armed trees and rounded hills I;
watched the girl out under the old walnut
tree, as she patiently stroked the gentle
cows. and filed her pail with the snowy
fluid
At last she finished and came up the
lane her brimfGl pail upon her head, and
she humming to herself little snatch of
a woodland ballad.
"ilulda." called the farmer, as she pas
scd us, on her way to the old stone spring
house, "'here's two men. or leastways one,
who speaks for hisself and friend O. his n
who wants board for the summer. Come
backs quick as you can, and tell us what
you think about it."
She paused for an instant as he spoke,
and turned her face towards us, a face
which naturally studied for that moment
with that interest attaching to the person
who was to determine whether we should
sojourn in this delightful spot, and if 50,
upon whom was to depend much of oul
comfort and pleasure.
| was never good at either studying
faces or describing them. In that short
moment | could form no opinion as to hel
character. [ remember did not think
her pretty. | don't think | ever thought
her SO in all our subsequent acquaintance
| doubt if could have guessed nearer
than ten years of her age. She might
have been eighteen, or she might have
been twenty-eight.
1t was only for moment that she
paused at sound of the farmers voice
she did not even take her pail down from
its lofty perch. She simply said, .'Well,