Ellsworth American. [volume] (Ellsworth, Me.) 1855-current, 1879-10-16
Miscell
90
Lucy Wheeler.

DO you ever judge, reader. OF the char
my Of ihti ERE h6a. 'hs Hn8g 8g9yasgnSS Maeag he
stage swept around the corner. | looked
out eagerly for, a. the driver had told me,
about ten rods up the road stood the house
OF rhiiander White. His wife Was my
mothers own cousin. and ! was just thlr-
teen years old when went there TO make
my first visit. There had been some quar-
Tel between two families two or three score
yesrs anterior 10 my visit, and though my
mother and Mrs. White never participated
10 this, The ieud OF their ancestors had
doubtless Involved some coldness between
them.
But TO cut 4 long story short, for the pen
and paper gossip may be more dlgnined.
but not 4 whit better than tea-table scan
dal. | had been an invalid all the previous
winter.
When sort April days, to which my
mother looked forward so eagerly, came.
they brought no bloom TO nv cheek, no
vigor to my step. Ny constitution seemed
to have lost all It's recuperaiire power and
the doctor said:
send her into the country, Mrs. May.
II that don't help her. she's lost to you"
just before this Mrs. White had learned
through mutual friend OF my Illness. and
the very day Of the blunI physicians ulii-
maium brought q letter TO my mother.
For the sake OF ms old love" /, read,
"lel all that may have come between you
and me be lost in the pleasure OF better
memories. The hills OF Meadow Brook are
clothed again with greenness, and now in
this late May Is the time tor Jennie 10 come
10 US. There is u prophecy OF health for
her In the soft wind that lifts the edge OF
my paper As | write. We know she Is your
all, and We will be very tender OF your
darling. VIII you not trust her for a sln-
gle summer
And before another week Was passed my
trunk was packed and marked ''Philander
White. Meadow Brook
looked out, as | have said, and there
sat a pleasant white house. with its green
window blinds, the shrubbery in front, and
the cherry trees behind. My heart went
out 10 il, and at once and It did moment
later TO the gentle voiced woman and the
fair, dsrk-hsired girl who rushed out on
the front steps, and, kissing my cheek,
said
Cousin Jennie, you are very welcome.
But il is not ali 10 tel you OF that sum
mer. though 1 looked across the gray year
to It's picture 10 the Maryland of my mem
ory, that / have taken up my pen This
morning.
Sufiice it that the mountain breeze OF
Meadow Brook did its work well; and
when 10 early autumn my mother came for
her child she could hardly identify the
rosy-cheeked girl who rushed in with her
curls dangling about her face, and held up
her rosy lips for a kiss.
think IL must have been nearly two
months after my domesticstion at Aunt
Mary's. for 80 | called my mothers cousin,
when Uncie Charles Brace, her husbands
brother. visited her. He WAS a minister,
and Cora aud had anticipated the gentle
mans advent with Anything but pleasant
emotions.
Our conceived notions of the clergy
mans elongated viszge. and solemn. puri-
tanieal manner. which we regarded MS nee
essary concomitanis OF the profession,
soon vanished before the besutiful kind
ling OF his smile aud the winning gentle
ness of his manner. He was Uncle Phirs
youngest brother, and not more than 2s at
that time: and his religion had deepened
and harmonized his nne poetic tempera-
ment without checking the outflow OF that
undercurrent OF humOr which sparkled
through hi. character. Uncle Chaaes was
soon our companion in our rides and ram
bles, and our conhdant ia our girlish
plans.
You don't really mean so, Uncle Char
lie,r and Cora's bright face was lifted from
the roses and geraniums we were weaving
into the bouquet for the nantel. You
don't really think what you just said, that
In every heart there Is fountain; some
blossom 10 the human wilderness Of every
soul"
He put down his paper and came toward
US.
Il have not a doubt Of II, my little girl.
The story was just reading. OF the hard
+ned old man who cried because child
gave him a bunch OF marigolds, cOrrobo-
raies my remark. The light that is In Us
cannot quite become darkness; the hearts
that might bring forth hundred fold for
harvest, Of heaven will never become such
deserts but some good seed will take root
therein"