The weekly herald. [volume] (Cleveland, Tenn.) 1876-1888, 1880-02-05
The Story of a Granted Wish

pullerton was justly named, for it was
the quietest, cleanest, dreariest country
town in England. l spent three years
there with an old aunt, and hope l may
never visit the place again, There was
nothing to see, nothing to do, nothing
to think about. l was too thoroughly
cockney to care for country pursuits,
and, besides, we lived ina country town,
not village. Here / lived or vegetated
for three years. And all that time I waa
signing for an notwithstanding to
happen, something to break the monot
ony of existence. The reader shall hear
how gained my wish at last and learned
to indorse the truth of Pope's words.
TO know the misery OF a granted
prayer
We had fine old church at Duller-
ton, almost as large as small cathedral
(excuse the Irishism). 1t was rich in
brssses and fine tombs; indeed, I really
believe there were more male ef1gies on
the tombstones than young men in the
town. The church though very fine was
sadly out Of repair; but one good thing
il possessed-an excellent organ, which
had been left the place by O native of Dull
lerton. was passionately Of music, and
when our good easy vicar gave me carte
blanche to use this organ, found life
at Dullerton more endurable. As an
artists daughter could not be inssnsi-
BILE to the beauty Of the church itself;
and between practicing on the organ,
sketching the interior Of the church, and
making myself intimately acquainted
with the tombs and brasses, 1 spent q
great part Of the day in the sacred edi-
foe.
One cold, winter afternoon remember
having a peculiarly dismal fit, having
been in doors for two or three days in
consequence Of q heavy fall Of snow; and
when, late in the afternoon, it began to
clear, I felt I must 60 out, if only for
an hour. Spite OF Aunt Anne's mildly
expressed astonishment, went out, and
felt l must try just one chant upon that
dear old organ. Calling at the vicarage
for the key Of the church, went on
my willful way, little thinking how soon
my longing for an adventure was to be
satisfied. 1t was growing dusk as 1
unlocked the heavy door and stepped
inside the church; so dusk, in fact, that
Imissed my footing at the step inside,
and slipped, falling against the door in
my efforts to save myself. The door
slammed to, leaving the key on the out
side. So here l was q prisoner. The
door, like everything else, was out OF
repair, aud depended on the key for
opening it; there was no latch within.
tried to turn the key through the key
hole, but only succeeded in breaking my
nails. Then l remembered reading how
some one similarly situated had rung
the bell. But, alas, our belfry was ap-
preached by fight of turret stairs,
terminated by door, which I found
locked.
The church was about ten minutes
walk from any habitation and no one was
likely TO pass il, 80 ] might have shouted
forever without attracting attention
even could my voice have penetrated
through the stout oaken door. onc'
thought OF escaping by the windows
but they we're all too high from th'
ground, and even in this emergency
should have hesitated at breaking q pane
OF tho rare old glass. My only hope
was that Aunt Auue would become
alarmed and miss me- ] had promised
10 return the key at the vloarage rs
went home, but il was doubtful il m!
non-appearance that evening would ex
cite surprise. Mr., Scott, our old bach
elor vicar, was one Of the most absen
Of men, and, il he was immers in hi
books, had probably forgotten the he.