The home journal. (Winchester, Tenn.) 1858-188?, 1876-09-07

ing away, am so sorry for him that
can not resist saying, "I hope you d,
not think me too quarrelsome ?' Thel
! look up pitcously in his face and cas-
another look of proud defiance at hi
friend. Soon our little gathering break
up, and | am glad that the evening is Il
IN end,
Another superb day, just Ms hot anc
coudless as yesterday but In spite o
the beautiful weather, and all the rose,
in the garden, got up feeling eros,
and out of spirits, Am merely hirt'
something too light and frivolous?
woman, | think, should be something
better. After ALL Col. Gordon wa.
right, and when | see Mr.. Hamilton
again will show him firmly but kindly
= that he has no reason to hope. ! am
somewhat comiortcd by this resolution,
but have no will to read books or to
pay visits, | have no mother and |
am an only child, so my life is rather
solitary. Somehow the day wears itself
away, and at six o'clock, punctual Us
the time itself, comes the quick familiar
ring, and hasten to meet my dear old
father after his official duties. I over
me him by kisses and complaints.
Oh, am so glad you have come
back" | say; 81 have been horribly
dull; and hasn't it been hot?-no cool
corner in the house, and no shade in the
garden"
He returns my kisses ancctionately,
but he looks so grave that | say, anx-
iously:
"ls anything the matter, dear?'
Yes; | have very sudden and bad
news" he answers, taking me into the
dlnningroom and stroking my hair with
his dear hands. " Young Hamilton is
, dead was found dead this morning in
his bed, 1t appears he was always sub
jcct to heart complaint met Gordon
in the street, who gave me the sad news.
Poor fellow, he seemed quite broken
down."
am terribly stricken. Dead | say
the word over and over again, yet can
not realize the full meaning of it. But
when 90 to bed turn my face to the
wall, on which one long ray of moonlight
is playing and sob as if my heart would
break and yet / know | did not love
him. o, soft melancholy eyes Per-
haps not melancholy now, but glad and
rs1iont and rull az a now trinmnhont
I;ght q moor troubled hcart Thnt
has I homo Fnnnd rest But T think or
tho li+tle kind things I MIGHT bovn said
and done and Of al tho t6ing. said ~
done 90 mmch hettnr left undGne
We'll thc tedious sumner davs 90 bv
Wc novnr SOC col Carbon now. he
scoms to hove civcn ns m. even mana
seems to wonder at his silence. One hot
August dav We leave noisy dusty Lon
don behind and fake wing for the CONT
nent We have got ovor Tho first sbork
nf moor Mr. UomiIton's death but I am
NOT ouite What I was and tIink if Col
Go,3on Gould 500 me- now hn would
tbink me less frivolous 7 have a half
hone that we NAV meet him in orr wan
derinrs. | look anxiously at all the
hotels into the books of the visitors
whore his name is not registered, and
after two months Of mountain and sea
air we come back to tine old London, the
old house, and the old lie. We have
been home n week: today papa has rot
to his office occupations again, and to.
day | feel terribly sad and cheerless-
a sadness which all things around me
tend to dcepen: the rustic of dead
leaves an tbe Garden maths the moan
mos Of the wind in the Ieatless
branches the cold gray aspect of
the skv. Is there nothing | should
like to do? / think, AS wander rest
lessly between the garden and the
house. All! yes, there is one thing |
have always intended to do, and why
not to-day? / gather a nosegay of au-
tumn flowers out of our own garden,
knowing that, if living, that would have
pleased him most, and | set out on my
pilgrimage. 1hey nave lala my lover 10
rest at Norwood, IN the ann vaults away