Alpena weekly argus. [volume] (Alpena, Mich.) 1871-1893, 1876-04-19

them the richest Of all legacies, al
earthly paradise; to which thei
thoughts could always turn, as t
the one sweet spot on earth. Ever
the humming-bird loves to decl
its little nest with pretty mosseI
and lichens. Ought we not to hav,
as much love for home and its adorn
ings as Gods dumb creatures ?"
81 have something more impor
tant to live for than a humming.
bird has," said Mr.. Graham, loftily.
81 would rather leave something
more substantial to my children
such as broad, well-tilled acres
for instance. / will tell what
have been thinking Of" he said,
with the air Of one who felt that
the expression of his opinions must
necessarily bring conviction of his
superior judgment. "You know
| have always wanted that forty
acre lot of Southwells, that joins
me on the north. They say he is
mighty hard up now, and when he
finds out that | can make big
payment down, l believe / could
get it mighty reasonable. And
when | got that paid for, l would
have one Of the best farms in the
county. Now what do you say to
that?" he asked triumphantly.
ut would run us right into debt
again." suggested Mrs. Graham.
"Well, supposing it did. We
have swung clear this time easy
enough, and can again. You must
remember that the land was badly
run when l first got hold of it, but
the farm is in good condition now"
"Easy enough" Mrs. Graham
did not repeat the words aloud.
Her husband did not know of the
hundred little sacrifices, and acts
of self-denial, it had cost her. He
never could know it, and therein
lies the pathos of many a sacrifice.
The next morning Mrs. Graham
was up betimes and busy as usual
amidst her household cares, but her
heart had lost its lightness and as
she stood under the locust tree,
which shades the back door, churn-
ing, it seemed too, as if much of the
had gone out of her life.
Golden dandelion nestled in the
green grass that carpeted the yard
ike stray bits of sunshine they
ire still bright with the dewy fresh
ness Of earlys morning. To the
right there was q stretch Of low
meadow land, the silver thread that
it showed where a brook
nurmured along, its tiny waves
sparkling in the sunlight. To the
eft there were fields of grain with
'ipened heads bowed, waiting for
he sickle. The air was full of hap
)y sounds; the soft tinkle Of dis
ant COW bells the voice of domes-
ic fowls and the song of wild
birds. But her great disappoint-
nent overshadowed it all.
She could think of nothing but
he great barn-lihe house, painted
glaring red, with its large shut
erless windows, like lidless eyes
taring upon the dnsty highway.
inside it was equally as barren Of
race or beauty the walls were
lingy and pnadorned by pictures
f any kind the furniture was
sorn guiltless of paint or varnish
With no work of literature worthy
f mention beside the weekly pa
'er, Bible and an almanac. In
his atmosphere she must live; here
he must henceforth work on while
lind and soul stsrve here too,
he must rear her children, to see
'orth or beauty in nothing, which
annot be represented by gold.
What wonder then if her eyes and
houghts wandered over the fields
{ waving grain to where a stately
tone house stood upon an emf
ence. She knew there was beauty
here; the brcezes stole into large /
Try rooms, through lace curtains
nere were rich carpets and costly ,
irniture, and library that was ,
lmost an intellectual feast to but .
,ok al outside there were pleas
MT walks and drives, and q flower
arden, filed with the rarest floral
and then she sighed soft
: rs she thought Of herself, "But
,ua sxonld not haua hnan thara | .