Oxford Democrat. [volume] (Paris, Me.) 1833-1933, 1879-07-15

| curlS udnSluS ouOuN nv A"NN' ~ ~
up her rosy lips for kiss.
| think it must have been nearly two
months after my domestication at Aunt
Mary's. for so | called my mother
cousin. when Uncle Charles Brace, hel
husbands brother, visited her. He wa,
minister, and Cora and | had anticipated
the gentleman's advent with anything but
pleasant emotions.
Our conceived notions of the clergy
mans elongated visage, and solemn, pu-
ritanical manner, which we regarded as
necessary concomitantS of the profession,
soon vanished before the beautiful kindling
of his smile and the winning gentlcnesS
of his manner He was Uncle Phirs
Youngest brother, and not more than 2S
at that time; and his religion had deep
ened and harmonized his fine poetic tenn
perament without checking the outflow
of that undercurrent of humor which
sparklcd through his character. Uncle
/ Charles was soon our companion in our
rides and ramblcS, and our contidant III
our girlish plans.
You don't really mean so, Uncle
Charlie, and Cora bright face was lifted
from the roses and geraniums we werc
weaving into the bouquet for the mantel.
.You don't really think what YOU just
said, that in every heart there Is a toun-
tain: some blossom in the human wilder
ness of every soul.
He put down his paper and came
toward us
Il have not a doubt Of it my little girl.
The story was just reading, of the hard
cncd old man who cried because a child
gave him bunch of marigoldS, corrob-
crates my remark. The light that is in
US cannot quite become darkness; the
hearts that might bring forth hundred
fold for harvests of heaven will never be-
come such deserts but some good seed
will take root therein.
Il don't believe it would, though. IN
Farmer Keep. You don't know him a,
well as | do, Uncle Charlie. He Is one
of the richest men in all Meadow Brook
he's worth thousands and thousands. He,
a bachelor. YOU know, and lives in the
great red house on the road to Woodbury.
YOU remember. Well, he never goes tc
church. and he never loved a human be-
ING in his life. Now don't think Farmer
Kccp-why, Grandma Dean, how doyou
do
The lady whose entrance put this sud
den period to my cousins perorauon
came slowly toward the rocking chair
Cora drew it out for her She was the
Oldest lady in the village. The hair un-
der her cap. white as hillside snow. hac
imprisoned the sunshine of fourScorc and
ten summers, but she still retained muct
of the physical stamina which with heI
active temperament had made her so Wig
orous woman for many years.
What that YOU re saving child, about
Farmer Keep" said the old lady, with
pleasant smile, as she pinned her knitting
sheath TO her waist.
why, | was telling Uncle Charlie
what a cold hard man he Is. You've all
WAYS known him, Grandma Dean, anC
now did he ever do a good thing or love
anybody in his life"
YES, he loved girl once, think
remember.
Farmer Keep loved girl once re
pca;ed Cora. with half contemplation
and wholly skeptical curl Of her red lips
"Shes forgotten" she added, in al
undertone. to Uncle Charlie and me. 10
Grandma Dean was slightly deaf.
NO, haven't forgotten, neither, sh'
said. placing her hand on Cora hair. &"
have held Lucy Reid on my lap too often
and rocked her cradle-poor little moth
erless thing too many times to hav'
forgotten"
Cora's look of incredulity was giyinl
way to one of curiosity.
Grandma Dean. won YOU tell Us al
about it: Jennie and I viii sit down OF
the stool, and know by that look in Tn
Gle Charles eye, he wants to hear II too
| Come. let the flowers 90, Jennie; an'
my yiyacious cousin established herself 4
the old lady's feet.
Grandma Dean slipped the yarn aroun'
her little finger and commenced:
Let me see-it cannot be more than
tortv-two years this summer since justin
Keep came up to Farmer Reds to le
himself out for the harvest boy through
harvesting.
The Reid house stood little this sid
of Stony creek. There IS nothing left o
it now except the chimney and It look
out gray and bold from the grass al
about it; but forty years ago it was
fine place, with lilacs in front, and tn
hop vines running all around the back
Lucy was hardly three weeks old wbei
she lost her mother. Her father neve
married again, and the child grew u
there in the old home as fair and swee
as the flowers that clustered about it.
She was nearly fifteen years old whel
Justin came that summer. He was
shy, strange sort of lad, and the neigh
| bors said that Farmer Reid would neve
get the salt for his porridge out Of him
, He'd been bound out until he was
to some man down in Maine, and h
hadn't relation in the world he knew Of
nor decent suit of clothes when he cam
to Farmer Reds house. But for all tina
Justin proved a smart, likely boy, an
2 the farmer. who somehow was never yer
Ill I l,,.o,.s tb0,,c c,bt he ~; 60