Grant County herald. [volume] (Lancaster, Wis.) 1850-1968, 1877-11-08
ANNIE'S ANGELS.
BY ROsELLA RICE.

There's not a day passes in whrci
| do not think of her, my dead Annie
We were little girls when we first
met, only thirteen years old. | wac
coming home from the village with
papa's letters and she overlook me.
| was homely and sunburnt and had
gray eyes, dull and sleepy while
she was quick and nervous, with the
loveliest hazel eyes and wavv brown
hair, and a sweet round face that
made me love her at first sight. In
that walk of forty rods was formed
q friendship that was to last while
lasted our two lives. l had good
home-she had not; but by dint of
planting and plotting and contriv-
ing together, Annie and | were
never separated more than few
days at a time. | would tell my
father pitiful stories of unkind teach
ers in Annie's district, and orthwith
my parents would insist on the girl
boarding with us, and helping me
wash dishes and work long divisions
while we would attend the same
school.
Then, in the long summers, /
would be lonloy spinning in the old
third story chamber, and Annie
would be hired to work with me ;
the dear, little, loving, pure girl came
like an angel into our household
And thus we managed for ten
years TO occupy the same cosey lit
tie room together nearly all the time.
Thon she married while she was
teaching our school and boarding
with US, and my stipulations were
that he, the Intruder, would OILY visi t
bis wife once q week during the
summer. Oh ! we had gala days.
Annie could drive fearlessly. and to-
gether we visited all the beautiful
and wild and historic places for
many miles around.
That was the browning summer OF
nv girlhood. When the little Rosa
came, she was mine to love and care
for, too.
As the years glided on we had
cares and sorrows and crosses, but
together we shared them and COM
forted each other. Her Rosa lived
until the mystery of death and i'm
mortality was to her theme OF
daily wonder and anxiety; her ques
tions concerning the angels puzzled
her mother and troubled her heart.
One day she said, ROSA is going to
the angels, and mother mustn't cry
for her baby then )" and soon she
folded her little hands smIlingly and
Joined them.
Then few years later and an
other whose head was shaking
cluster of nut brown curis, died a
violent death, and the heart of Annie
was rent with anguish and sorrow.
On with few lines of ours we can
glide over whole life time and COW
er it all, and the story is dene-just
as the MOSES and lichens creep over
the inscription on neglected coun-
try churehyard stone, and onliterate
the name and age and date. She
was all tho world to me-to the
careless reader who may glance over
these sentences she was nothing.
Last winter, on that silent Sab
bath, when the crnel white snow lay
softly and deeply ali over the earth,
a messenger came to nay sick bed to
tell me that my girlhood's friend,my
Annie, was gone from my mortal
sight forever. lay prone upon my
face with my heart broken 1t was
winter in my soul. | had no woman
left who knew and loved mo as well
as she did.
| opened my arms to receive her
three children, but no wish or word
of hers had given them to me. l
said that is very strange-what did
she say OF her babes when the mes
senger came so suddenly? Her hus-
band looked me calmly in the face,
and his lip quiverad as he steadied
his voice aud replied that her rea-
son returned a few moments before
she died, and she said the Lord had
dealt lovingly and kindly with her,
and she gave her children to Him in
trust, knowing He woald be more