Wood County reporter. [volume] (Grand Rapids [i.e. Wisconsin Rapids], Wis.) 1857-1923, 1879-11-06
LUCY WHEELER.
ELLA WHEELER

And when the stage swept around The
corner, [ looked out eagerly, for, as the
driver had told me, about ten rods up
the road stood the house of Philander
White. His wife was my mothers own
cousin, and [ was just thirteen years
old when [ went there to make my first
visit. There had been some quarrel
between the two families two or three
score years anterior to my visit: and
though my mother and Mrs. White
never participated in this, the feud of
their ancestors had doubtless involved
some GOODNESS between them.
But to cut long story short, for the
pen and paper gossi o may be more dig
nifed, but not a whit better than tea
table scandle, | had been an invalid all
the previous winter.
When soft April days, to which my
mother looked forward so eagerly,
came, they brought no bloom to my
cheek, no vigor to my step. My con-
stitution seemed to have lost all its re-
Operative power; and the doctor said:
"Send her into the country, Mrs.
May. If that don't help her, she's lost
to you.
Just before this Mrs. White had learn
ed through a mutual friend of my i'll
ness, and the very day of the blunt
physicians ultimatum brought letter
to my mother.
For the sake of my old love-" it
read, Z" let all that may have come be-
tween you and me be lost in the pleas
ures of better memories. The hills Of
Meadow Brook are clothed again with
greenness, and now in this late May is
the time for Jennie to come to us.
There is 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. Will you not trust her
for single 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 pleasant white house, with green
window blinds, the shrubbe1y in front
and the cherry trees behind. My heart
went out to it, and at once; AID did a
moment later to the gentle-voiced wo-
man and the fair, dark-haired girl
who rushed out on the front steps,
and kissing my cheek, said:
cousin Jennie, you are very well
come"
But it is not to tell you of that sum-
mer, though, [ looked across the gray
year to its picture in the Maryland of
my memory, that [ have takensup my
pen this morning.
Suffice it that the mountain breeze of
II l. i H.. 1
when in 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 kiss.
think it must have been nearly two
months after my dom estication at aunt
Mary's, for so | called my mothers
cousin, when uncle Charles Brace, her
husbands brother, visited her. He was
minister, and Cora and had antici-
pated the gentleman's advent with any
thing bat pleasant emotions.
Our conceived notion of the clergy
mans elongated visage, and solemn,
purltanical manner, which We regarded
as necessary cOncomitants of the pro-
fession. soon vanished before the beau
tiful kindling of his smile and the win
ming gentlepess of his manner. He WAS
uncle Phirs youngest brother, and not
more than twenty-eight at that time
and his religion had deepened and mar
monized his fine poetic temperament
without checking the outflow OF that
undercurrent of bumor which sparkled
through his character. Uncle Charles
was soon our companion In our rides
and rambles, and our confident in our
girlish plans.
''You don't really mean SO, uncle
Charlie" and Cora's bright face was
lifted from the roses and geraniums we
were weaving into bouquet for the
mantel. "You don't really think what
you just said, that III every heart there
Is fountain; some blossoms in the will
derness of the SOUL"
He put down his paper and came to-
ward us.
81 have not q doubt of it, my little
girl. The story l was just reading, OF
the hardened old man who cried be-
cause child gave him a bunch of mari
Colds, corrOborateS 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 become such deserts
but some good seed will take root there
in"
81 don't believe it would, though, in
Farmer Keep. You don't know him SO
well as do, Uncle Charlie. He is one
of the richest men in all Meadow Brook
he's worth thousands and thousands.
He's bachelor, you know, and lives in
the great red house on the road to
Woodbury., you remember. Well, he
never goes to church, and he never
loved human being in his life. Now
don't think Farmer Keep-why, Grand
ma Dean how do you do?"
"The lady whose entrance put this
sudden period to my cousins perora-
ton came slowly toward the rocking
chair. Cora drew it out for her. She
was the oldest lady in the village. The
hair under her cap, white as snow, had
imprisoned the sunshine of fourscore
and ten summers, but she still retained
much of the physical stamina which
with her active temperament had made
her so vigorous woman for many
years.
whats that you're saying child,
about Farmer Keepl" said the old lady,
with a pleasant smile, as she pinned her
knitting sheath to her waist.
"Why, [ was telling Uncle Charlie
what cold, hard man he is. You've
always known him. Grandma, Dean land
now did he ever dc good thing or love
anybody in his life?"
Yes, he loved girl once, think I
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