Daily Kennebec journal. [microfilm reel] (Augusta, Me.) 1870-1975, 1876-04-20
lcoutiuued from first paxe.I

mo. Madeline, my dear VIE, ne saiu
tar6erav. swear these little things. Thee
misses them, perhaps, but ! am SO salts
fed with thee hardly notice thy orna-
And Aunt Madeline clasped her arms
about his neck, and laid her head upon his
bosom and wept, the happiest woman in
the world. Never, from that time, did
she see the comb that, few moments be-
fore. she had laid upou the table and af-
ter that her hair hung in silken curls as
formerly.
= AT length an infants cry was heard in
Uncle Fred's house, and it was laughable
to see his first attempts ut holding his boy.
He handled it as if it was delicate piece
of glass work; which he momentarily ex-
pected would break. Time, however,
brought him practice, and three sons made
the house merry with their voices. Uncle
Fred's mechanical ingenuity was turned
to good account in making tops for his
little flock; and the grave man who sat
so sedately in meeting was not unfre-
auently seen on winter evenings, har-
messed and driven by one of the boys.
while the second sturdy little fellow sat
astride.his shoulders, pommelng the broad
chest with his heels to make his horse go
faster, one strong finger of the father
guiding the steps of the youngest In his
attempts at walking.
1t was on picture like this that Cousin
Joseph looked one evening, as the bright
leaping flames in the old fireplace sent
sparks on puss and Lion in one corner,
asleep, save for an occasional spark, fol-
lowed by a smell of burnt hair, and lit up
the radiant face of Aunt Madeline, with
her knitting in her hand, her work sus-
pended. while she looked with happy
smiles on the merry group. Uncle Fred
looked a little ashamed as the door opened:
but the usually serene face OF Cousin Jo-
seph wore such a peculiar expression.
that he only said:
well, Joseph, we fathers do some.
times make fools of ourselves. hope
thee will do likewise, one OF these days"
Cousin Joseph turned his face from the
lightan said something about the wealth
er.
Grandmother's expectations about I'M
Gle Fred's inheriting grandtathers relig-
ious gifts had not been realized; but one
thing he had inherited from him, and that
was . tendency to consumption. He grew
thin and hollow chested a hacking cough
that he made light of alarmed US all, and
Aunt Madeline was tortured with an an
definable fear. 1t was nothing he said /;
all the Moores had a cough; he would be
well BY fall. But one day, in working on
building, he lifted too heavy stick Of
timber and ruptured blood vessel. A
severe herilorrhage followed, and he was
brought home to die.
The first grief had come to the little cot
tags, and seven years of the purest happi-
ness that, falls to mortals ended in sor-
row. Serene as his life had ever been
was lis close. At the age of twenty-sev-
en- Aunt Madeline found herself widow
with three little children. ...-.
Uncle Fred had never been a forehand-
ed man, according to grandmother's ex-
preston, nor had his father been better
in that respect than he. At mothers mar
riage the place. of no great value, was
much encountered. Father had paid the
debts, and taken the farm. paying the lit
tie surplus to my uncle and grandmother,
so that the property really belonged to
mother and me. In year from Uncle
Fred's death / left home to manage some
private affairs OF my own, and Aunt Mad
cline and her three boys came to live at
our house. Deborah Rhoades was mar
ried to travelling preacher, wdower
with seven children, and went with him
to other yearly meetings, preaching pow
erfui sermons, the elderly Friends said.
Five years passed. Uncle Fred's boys
were needing more than could be fur
nished from mothers slender means; and
Aunt Madeline felt that she was too much
of 1 burden To her friends. She proposed
again to teach, to which mother and grand
mother gave q reluctant consent; and to
move back into the old house. which they
firmly opposed. Toward winter. howev-
er. they yielded, as the house was 50 near
the school which she was still to teach.
Cousin Joseph was one Of the trustees,
and he agreed to give her mans wages
during the winter.
Fred, the eldest boy, was twelve
Philip, named for Madaline's only broth
era sea captain. who was lost at a.
was ten; and biack-eyed, curly-headed
Walter, seven; so they would be COM
pany for mother. The old house was re-
fitted, the nameless grace again filed the
rooms; but the old happiness could never
return.
Cousin Joseph drew wood and sent a
man toScut it for her, drove one of his best
cows I'd the stable back of her house, and
was anIunusually frequent visitor at moth
er's. though be rarely. went 10 Aunt Mad
eline's.
Mother had something in her head. l
knew, by the way she acted once when
was home on visit, and by an air OF pre-
tended indifference l got it out of her, at
last. that Cousin Joseph had informed her
and grandmother that he had felt it borne
in upon his mind to marry Aunt Made
line.' and take care of her children.
They were growing up, and needed
more care and training than she could give
them. Madeline was becoming care
worn; it was too much to provide for so
many; and he had thought that when
school closed he should ask her to marry
him. True, it would be something of a
cross to him to marry out of meeting; but
he thought that possibly she might be
brought to see the light, and join the
Friends.
''And now what does thee think Of itp'
asked mother.
shook my head gravely. I had my
doubts. wondered II the warm hearted
womA4 could love the cold and demure
man. G1knew lhe richness of her nature