St. Johnsbury Caledonian. [volume] (St. Johnsbury, Vt.) 1867-1919, 1876-03-03
Lucy Wheeler.

w hth il' SldSt swept lOllnu the corner,
| looked out eagerly. for us the driver
had told me. about ten rods up the road
stood the house OF Philander White
His wife was my mothers own cousin.
and | WAS just thirteen Years old when
| went there To make nv first visit.
There had been some quarrel between
the two families. two or three score
years anterior to my visit : and though
my mother and Mis-. White never par
ticipated in this, the feud of their an
ceStor had doubtless involved some cold
ness between them.
But to cut Il long story short. for the
pen and paper gossip may he more dig
hi led, hut not whit better than tea
table scandal, | had been an invalid all
the previous winter.
When soft April days. to which my
mother looked forward SO eagerly, came,
they brought no bloom to my cheek,
no Nigor to my step. My constitution
seemed tn have lost all its recuperative
power; and the doctor said:
''Send her into the country, Mrs. May.
| If that don't help her, she is lost to YOU"
/ Just before this Mrs. White had learn
ed through Il mutual friend of my i'll
hess. and the very day of the blunt
physicians ultimatum brought II letter
to my mother.
For the sake of my old love-" it
read, ''lct all that may have come be
Tween Nou and me be lost in the pleas
me of better memories. The hills of
Meadow Brook are clothed again with
greenneSs, and now in this late Nav is
the time for Jennie to come to Us.
There is Il prophecy of health for her in
the soft wind that lifts the edge of my
paper AZ write. We know she is your
all. and We will he very tender of your
darling. Will You not trust her for :,
/ single summer
And before another week was passed.
my trunk WAS packed and marked.
"Philandcr White. Meadow Brook"
looked out. as | have said. and there
sat the pleasant white house, with its
giecn window blinds. the Shrubbery in
front. and the cherry trees behind. My
heart went out to it. and ut once: and
it did Il moment later. to the gentle
voiced woman. and the fair dark haired
girl who rushed out on the broad front
steps, and kissing my cheek, said:
cousin Jennie, you are very wei
come"
But it is not to tell You of that Sum
mcr. though look across the gray years
to its picture in the Maryland of my
memory, that have taken up my pen
this morning.
Suffice it that the mountain bIecZc>
of Meadow Brook did their work we'll
and when in early autumn my mother
came for her child. she could hardly
identify the rosy checked girl who rush
ed in with her curl> dangling about hel
face. and held up her rosy lips for Il
| kiss
think it must have been nearly tw,
months after my demonstration AT Aunt
Mays, for 81 call my mothers cousin
when ncle Charles Brace. her huS-
bands brother, visited her. He was :;
minister, and Cora and | bad anticipat
ed the gentlcman'> advent with any
thing but pleasant emotions.
Our conceived notions of the clergy
mans elongated Visagc. and solemn
puritanical manner, which we regarde,
as necessary concomitamts of the pro
ftS>inn. soon vanished before the heauti
ful kindlimg of his smile, and he Wimmin.
gentlenes> of his manner. He w;ls l'ncl,
Pills youngest brother. and not NOR,
than twenty eight at that time and hi:
religion had decprucd and haImonize,
his fine poetic temperament. witl"u
checking the outflow of that under
current of humor hich Sparklcd through
his character. Uncle Charles WAS Sool
our companion in our rides and r;lmlleS
and our confident in our gillish plans.
"Iou don't really mcap 50, Cncl,
Charlie" and Cola'> bright face Wa
lifted from the roses and gcraniunI> w
T. were weaving into the bouquet for tn
mantcl. You don't really thnk Wha
Won iust said. that in every heart then
iS Il fountain some blossom in the hII
man wilderness of every soul.
lie put down his paper and came to
ward us.
Il have not Il doubt of it. my littl
girl. The story WAS just reading, q
the hardened old man who cried becaus
Il child gave him Il bunch of mariSold,
corrohoratc> my remark. The liGl
). that is in us cannot quite become dark
ness the hearts that might bring fort
il hundred fold for harvc>tS of HEAVIER
will never hecomc such deserts III
, some good seed will take root therein
.. Il don't believe it would. though, i
Farmer Keep. lou don't know him i
wen l> ! tlb. I H'lt llIIlHt llt = VI
of the richest men in all Meadow Brook
he's worth thousands and Thousand
He's Il bachelor. Won know. and lives
the great red house on the road
Woodbury.. YOU remember. Well. |
y never goes to church. he never loved
human being in his life. Now don
. think Farmer Keep why Grandn
Deaut. how do you do ?
The lady whose entrance put tn
. sudden period to my cousins peror
ton. came slowly toward the rockir
chair. Cora drew it out for her. 81
was the oldest lady in the village. III
hair under her cap, white as hillsl'
p, SNOW, had imprisoned the sunshine
IT. fonrScore and ten summers: but 81
- still retained much of the physical stan
ma which with her active sentiment Ii;
made her so vigorous Il woman for MAJ
wears.
.'Whai's that your saying, child. alb"
- Farmer Keep ?" said the old lady, wi
,r Il pleasant smile. as she pinned her kni
ting sheath to her waist.
"Why. was telling Uncle Charl
what cold hard man he is. You
always known him, Grandma Dean
and now did he ever do ii good thin
on ever love any body in his life p
- "Yes. he loved II girl once. think
remember"
vc. "Farmcr Keep loved a girl once
repcated Cora. with Il half contempt
ous and wholly skeptical curl of her I
~ lips.
'N' shes forgotten" she added i'll
uud.rtone. to Uncle Charlie and II
for Grandma Deane was slightly de
no, haven't forgotten, neithe