Daily Kennebec journal. [microfilm reel] (Augusta, Me.) 1870-1975, 1878-08-29
NO. 2O4.
Gales aud Sketehss.
THE EVE OF ST. JOHN.


moving lazily, as if weary with the long
march of the summer solstice. A gauzy
haze yelled without obscuring his bright
ness. and lent a dreamy charm to the
scene below. Soft rolling hills; q stream
winding between green willowy shores;
seen far away. u broad blue river, and
the spires and roofs of town; these
were the outlines of the landscape. In
the cool piazza OF the old white farm
house, her home tor half a century. stood
my grandmother, smile on her placid
face. and her mild eyes drinking 10 the
serene beauty of the scene. Alice and
came flying down the ball staircase and
stood beside her.
Good bv, grandmamma," cried my
sister. I've are going to leave You for
u little while
Must you go to-day, my dears? The
horses are away, and it is long walk to
S.. Why not wait till tomorrow
You forgot, said, ''lhat Frank comes
tomorrow and we shall be so busy with
packing. and all the last things. Aud it
is only two miles to town, after ALL
II suppose YOU must go, dear; but it
is long walk for Alice in this hot sum-"
grandmamma added, glancing from my
gray walking dress to my sisters cloudy
muslin and slippers.
''Oh, | am not going, grandma; l shall
| only walk along with Charlotte down to
the thorn-trees TO take that sketch | have
promised you SO long. We shall both be
back early to spend long evening with
you. This is my birthnight, you know
just think am nineteen-and / want
you to make festival OF it,"
BE sure we will. And good-by. now,
my children. tor you have no time to
spare"
Alice and | walked slowly down the
green path which wound its way across
the fields to the brook. Following this
for some distance, we came to q rude
| wooden bridge by which we gained the
other shore and soon sharp bend in the
| stream brought us to the thorn.trees of
which Alice had spoken. A miniature
promontory, covered with the soitest and
| most velvety turf, WAS washed on two
sides by the waters OF the brook while
| the third was guarded by semi-circular
| line ot gnarled and twisted thorn-trees.
| A belt OF similar trees upon the opposite
shore rendered the seclusion of the place
perfect. 1t was spot which Titania
might have chosen for her court, so still,
so secret, and so greer, Through par
| tiai opening in the trees was visible .
| lovely bit Of scenery. sketch of which
| Alice, who draws with rare skill and fl
deity, proposed to take in my absence.
Seated here on the warm grass, the
| stream murmuring at her feet and the
| leaves tluitering over her, | left her to
her pleasant task and regaining in y few
moments more the frequented path, took
my way by the long yellow, high road to
the distant town.
Alice and | had been spending some
| months with our grandmother, and were
| to leave in a few days for our home in
Philadel phia. Our own mother was dead;
and the warm-hearled, though rather gay
| aud fashionable step-mother who had TAX
en- her place, did not come so near to our
| hearts AS did the gentle old lady at the
farm. A part OF every year we spent with
The latter, always leaving her with regret.
| should mention that my step-mother had
| son, the trult OF former marriage, who
had been absent several years in India,
| and at this time had just returned. As
we had no brother of our own, Frank
| Baldwin. who was Il few years older than
| I, had filled nearly brothers place to
Alice and myself. lie was now to be our
| escort home, rs our father was prevented
| by some business from coming Tor US HIM
self.
| This afternoon | had to make some
| tritllng purchases at the shops, and pay
| lew parting visits OF friendship or cere-
| mony. We had many pleasant friends in
5, and the farewell calls consumed so
| much time that nine o'clock was ringing
| from all the steeples before | was able to
leave the town aud turn my steps towards
| home. But the way, though lonely, was
safe; and enjoyed the quiet walk in the
evening air. Ii must have been nearly
zen O'Clock when reached the gate which
communicated with the tootpath across the
fields. OF course had no Idea ot meeting
Alice at that hour; for though she had
promised to wait Tor me, il was in the ex-
pectation that my return would be much
earlier. Yet when l came to the turn OF
The path leading to the thorn-trees my
steps half involuntarlly took that direc-
| ton.
Walking on slowly. had reached the
brook, aud was rounding the point where,
hours before. had lett my sister, when
was startled by percelving what seemed
in the uncertain starlight to be her figure
reclining on the grass under the thorn
rees. Inyolunlarily | paused, halt in
doubt, half in fear. At that instant there
came from lar away in the south the first
breath OF the night wind signing across
he fields aud stirring the stiff leaves of
| the Old thorns with u sound as Of innumer-
| able fairy footsteps. With sudden thrill.
as if had been conscious of some invisi-
| ole presence, | called her by name, but in
a low frightened voice. There was no
answer; and springing forward, l knelt
beside the figure OF my sister. lying tast
asleep upon the grass. Her flushed cheek
rested on her round, white arm, and
smile like that OF dreaming infancy parted
her beautiful lips. Lifting her long hair,
oa which the night dew glistened. took
her hand, exclaimlng: Alice, Alice
Vane! what are you thinking OF, asleep in
This damp night air ?"
Slowly she opened her large eyes and
gazed around with bewildered express
sion.
Dear Alice, do rouse yourself, cried,
't is past ten O'Clock, aud grandma will
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