The Wheeling daily intelligencer. [volume] (Wheeling, W. Va.) 1865-1903, 1879-09-20
For the InteIIgenccr.
A Few Pressed Ferns and Autumn
Leaves

For the IntelliGenccr.
A Few Pressed Ferns ana Autumn
Leaves
There was the churning to do, milk
pans to clean, butter to work, and, oh, SO
many, many things for the tired little
hands to do. Standing by the old fashion
cd churn, the streams Of milk running
down the sides were never needed, for
lying on the great heap Of fiat stones, was
thumb-worn book, nothing but an
ancient history, but very dear, and the
brown eyedgirl with her bright ambitious
nature Mother was so domestic, father
80 practical. OF course, there was black
Mary and Nancy and old Susan about the
house, to say nothing OF sister Libbie
and Annie; but they, too, had their
allotted work, still they knew nothing OF
the restless desire for knowledge, the love
OF nature, and anything beautiful, that
filled brown eyed Miles heart. One
day ut school, then five at home," too
much work to do. Nonsense" saysiather,
what good can fine education do you,
do away with these pesky lOwersw Moth.
ing but a few dried ferns and pressed
autumn leaves, but so obnoxious to such
a practical mans eyes.
Mother, let US have a few comfortable,
easy chairs, and some pictures of some
kind, even il they are simple and plain, !"
would Mile say so often, but mother
would shake her head. "What do we
want better than we have. Close the
blinds, child, the sun fades the carpet"
"Ah!-" and Mile would look at the spot
less white curtains, the rows OF stiff back
ed chairs, with their somber black Gus.
HONS, the mahogany side table, with its
piles Of books that had nointerest for her,
and sigh as she thought OF the comfort
and light there might DO brought to bear
on the old home by u few finger touches"
OF beauty and taste. Mother does not
mean TO be unkind, and the little pale.
faced girl hurries her Off 10 the heap.
ing basket OF unmended stockings. But
there was father working hard out in the
hot sun among hay and corn, and she
could not afford to be idle. Years ago she
had her own girlish dreams, just as Mile
had them, but she had married practical,
prosperous man, who had worked her
nature to suit his own that she seemed but
part and parcel OF him.
"a few pressed ferns and autumn
leaves, father, nothing more, they cannot
soil tho book"
"a lot of rotten trash, right over my &C.
counts, two hundred dollars, at least lost
sight OIL The heavy hand came down on
the slender shoulders with a.heavy thud
the book snatched from the 0uiverinc
hands, ferns and leaves crushed in tho
broad palm to nothing but brown Dust
Therewas nothing but a slight culver OF
the pale lip, and a tiny tear that fell from
the flashing eye, but a whole volume OF
expression in the 'iather!" she uttered.
"Men have been lightly known to turn
the corner OF street. and DAYS have
grownto months, and months into tagging
year, before they looked in loving eyes
againW
"Atter all, the world is a wide, wide
world, plenty OF room for little one like
meW -
The dry leaves rustic meath the little
feet, the heavy wrap was drawn close
around the slight form, and Mile left her
home forever, that cold, dark autumn
night, with not even one single star TO
Rulde her, her cold, barren home, the
homo that had no light nor comfort for
her, away from the stern, untorgiyiuV
hearts OF father and mother; father and
mother who Christened the little girl down
deep In their hearts with love that knew
no bonds, but hid it all. by their practical
worldly natures. Stealing away in the
darkest hour Of the night, away OF, she
knew not whore, nor should father and
mother ever know, some plSce where the
craving for something nobler and better
could be gratifled, and father and moth.
er never did know, until one day,
months atterward, a haggard.faced, hol.
low.eycd girl was brought back to them.
When they laid the wasted body on the
snowy bed, Tor one moment she opened
her eyes and murmured In an imploring
way: Nothing but pressed ferns and
autumn leaves, iathern She had wan.
dered from place to place, doing little
snatches OF work, even to pay for simple
meal ,ranything, to be away from such a
home, but disease soon fastened itself on
her exhausted. system, then strangers took
her back to the uuloved home, where she
found quiet, undisturLed rest, for the pent
up fountain Of mothers love had been
pened. MN. W.