Juniata sentinel and Republican. [volume] (Mifflintown, Juniata County, Pa.) 1873-1955, 1876-02-23
Getting A Lift.

.'And wha kens, Marjory, by that
time somebody may gle us lift"
Marjory shook her pretty head. She
had not just now her lovers hopeful
ness but she smiled, as she always did,
at his Scotch accent, glancing up arch
", and the shake of the head was not
very discouraging.
The two were standing before that
messy little cottage at the corner of the
lane, just where the sweeping shadows
Of the great elm flickered over it. This
cottage was Marjory's day-dream-a
tiny, cozy, fower-clad day-dream, with
good substantial wall and vine-cov-
cred hedge about it. In that distant fu-
ture when she and Adam should he
forehanded enough TO wed. she liked to
fancy herself mistress of this pretty cot
tage, going i'm and out of the sunny
porch, or waiting for Adam of sum-
mer evening down at the little gate un-
der the elm. The place belonged to
Squire Acton upon the hill, but the
squire was away and the place unOccu-
pied, and Marjory was at full liberty,
therefore, to tenant it with dream.
She never passed the cozy little nest
without longing glance tbitherward.
The ''by that time" of which Adam
spoke was long in coming, and TO Mar
jory 1t seemed somehow this morning
farther off than ever.
Adam, the sturdy young Scotsman,
saw no cause cause for despair in this
new country, with its fertile soil and
sunshine. He was gardener, known
in all the region for his skill and thrift.
and he trusted to shape the future with
his own strong hands. Yet to be ow-
ner of pretty place like that, with its
low caves, its shell-bordered path, and
its elm shadow, was a thing worth
dreaming about, and he let Marjory
have her pretty dream.
"It's no unlike the wee bit place at
hame," said Adam, eyeing it with a
lingering glance as he turned 10 the
road.
swell, well, go your ways, Adam"
said Marjory. ats long past noon, and
I've to stop down the lane with this
basket for Widow Gray"
And Adam, lifting the basket over the
stile for her, went his way, whistling
thOughtfully.
Slowly Marjory passed up the lane
with her basket, summer odors about
her, and summer blossoms every where
shedding their shell-like petals in fra
grant snowfall, not whittier nor sweeter
than the clean linen she was carrying
to the Widow Gray for Marjory was
capital work-woman, il she did dream
over her tasks now and then.
The basket was refilled from the
widows garden with goodly freight
of vegetables for the houseful Of young
Sters for whom the young girl was pur
yeyor, and the afternoon shadows were
lengthening as patient Mrriory went
her way up the lane once more. She
paused moment at the stile TO rest.
over the summer fields soft, haZy sun
light fell; the meadows were golden: a
veil of impalpable mist hung in the
,;rOwsy air. MarjOry fingered, with
her red hood thrown back over her
shoulders, looking wistfully yet wearily
at the scene. Her eye wandered TO the
hills lying afar off, fleeeting cloud and
shifting shadow fiecking them. How
distant they seemed. yet how near and
familiar. She had never visited them,
though they seemed so near. All her
life had lain along the beaten track of
household ways-the elder sister pa
tiently caring for the old folks and the
little ones.
Never, in her remembrance, had
there happened to Marjory such long
ing for a holiday, such weariness of
the old familiar duties, as now, when,
setting down her laden basket, she
leaned upon the stile, and shading her
eyes with her hand, looked down the
winding road. 1t was all so balmy, and
80 quiet. Now and then laborer
with his rake on his shoulder plodded
homeward, nodding TO her as he passed,
or creaking farm wagon, with its
sleepy oxen, toiled up the rise; and pre-
sently the rerose a sun-lit cloud of dust
a little distance off, and through it came
the twinkling of red-spoked slender
wheels-a pretty vehicle appeared, and
a young gentleman driving. Marjory
wondered how it would feel to be sweep
ing along the road like that, with no
burdens to carry, and such fleet little
pony. At that moment-cOnld she be-
lieve it:-that pretty eguipage paused
in the road, that swift little pony stood
stamping impatiently, and a pleasant
voice said,
s'Shall / give you lift:"
Marjory looked at the questioner,
doubtful if she were not really dream |
ing. There sat the vision, spruce, smi-
ling, and holding out its gloved hands |
to help her in with her basket. Mar
jory felt herself dusty and untidy |
in the contrast. This might be the
young squire, who was coming home
10 live, she had heard; but she smiled
shy smile as she found herself actual
ly lifted to the vacant seat, and the
young man thought he had never seen
any thing quite so bright and summer
like rs that smile. He wondered if all
country girls were like this, with such
beaming eyes and sun-tinted cheeks;
and as they rode along he chatted pleas
antly, just to evoke that smile again.
How fresh and uncontaminated and full
of rare sweetness might not such girl
be, brought up in the woods, and
breathing in their clean, clear air! He
was tired of city people. City people,
both men and women, were so conven-
tionai-impossible to do any thing out
of the habitual routine in the city. Now
a man ought to do some good in the
world. He had often thought it his du-
" TO strike out in a new path, and
break through old usages. All the men
of his family had married fashionable
women; they had wealth, they had po-
sition but not one of them had a smile
like that. Now bright CHEEKY hearth,
with a pleasant face beside it-that
might incite a man to do something
worth while with his life. Such girl
as this, now
Marjory, sitting by his side, blushed
as she rode along, seeing all the hOmely
familiar things from a grand distance,
and fancying herself lady riding into
town with a gay gallant beside her.
''what is the prettiest place here
about." asked the squire, rousing from
his reverie. And Marjory told him of
the little cottage under the elm-that
was the prettiest place of all.
So they rode along till they came in
sight of the grand house on the hill-a
big brown house, with great carriage
way and a row of tall pOplars. Near
the south gate stood the conservatory
4. 4 y l