Democratic Northwest. [volume] (Napoleon, Ohio) 1869-1894, 1881-03-17
Select Story.
The Lost Ring.

prime. The hilltops were wreathed
in amber mist; the river murmured
softly through its willow frlnged
shores; the woods, all rifled of their
leafy honors, were like cathedral
aisles, carpeted with gold, and rus
set and crimson layers, and the nuts
had never been so plentiful up in
Wrex's Woods.
Squirrels, school boys, picnic par
ties and tramps all had their pick and
choice of the nuts, and yet, with
every midnight frost and sunrise gale,
the ground was strewn afresh with
them, and any adventurous stick,
thrown up into the branches, would
bring down shower of new treasures.
But why don't they bring these
nuts to market? cried Laura Herit
age. Why don't we have them in
London?
Amt enough OF EN-, miss, said
Job, sturdy, young farm laborer.
Besides, they amt what you'd call a
fancy nut.
Just then Mr.. Austin, the hand
some young curate of Comfortable.
came up, and held out his hand to
Miss Heritage with smile.
Il am glad to see you here, said he.
And am so glad to be here! said
Laura enthusiastically.
How do you like country life? he
asked.
'Oh, so much?' cried Laura. Ma
pie Farm is SO delightful, and Mr.. and
Mrs. Jennings are like two antiquities
out of curiosity shop. And mamma
would give untold gold for the china
that they use-extravagant creatures
on the table every day! I could have
cried outright last night, when PhGbe
dropped a cup and broke it. And we
have open wood fires on huge hearths,
and the logs are so deliciously fra
grant as they burn, and-'
And little Phebe?' said Mr. Austin,
smiling-'doesnt she strike you as a
curiosity, also?
Laura laughed.
The niece?' said she. DO you know
| have scarcely looked at her? l like
pretty people and pretty things, and
that child is such fgure!'
She spoke carelessly. quite unaware
and very possibly she would not have
cared had she known it--that Phoebe
Jennings was in the sunken glade just
below, where the yellow sunshine quiv-
cred, and noisy little rivulet leaped
over noisy stones on its way to the
river.
Phoebe was big eyed and solemn,
with face and hands almost as brown
as the nuts, and hair that waved and
erinkled all over her head.
Mr.. Austin had always had pleas
ant word and smile for her; Miss
Heritage was the realistic of her ideas
Of an angel--and now they are laugh
ing about her.
Phoebe stood minute with her
great eyes brlmming over, her lower
lip tightly clasped by pearl-white
teeth.
job, said she, at last, my bucket is
full. think I'll go home
What, Already? cried Job.
Yes said Phoebe. Maybe, Aunt
Jennings wants me. I'd better go.
Mrs. Jennings, cutting piece of
gold clear honey in the comb, out of a
glass box, was aston;shed at the breath
less apparotion OF her little niece, fly
ing headlong down the steep grade of
the apple orchard.
Bless me, child!' said Mrs. Jennings
Didn't tell you you could stay till
sundown.
IL didn't want to- said Phoebe.
And she rushed upstairs to her
room, and cried until she could cry no
longer.
Miss Heritage, liked pretty people
and pretty things, and she (Phoebe)
was such fgure!'
She had not known it before. She
had thought her calico dress, with the
black stars upon it, was beautiful; and
she had innocently rejoiced in the
brown ribbon bow for her neck, that
had been her uncles own present
And then Phoebe looked in the little
six inch glass, and realized how brown,
how unkept, and gipsy-like she was
how dissimilar was her dress from Miss
Heritage's soft laces and floating rib
bon!oops And Mr.. Austin, in whose
bible-class she was---
Il wish was dead!' sobbed poor
Phoebe. No, aunt, pleased to Mrs.
Jennings kindly call. i don't want
any. tea
mo teal said Mrs. Jennings in
amazement, Child, does your head
ache?
FYes, said Phoebe, who had never
known what it was to suffer an ache or
pain in her llfs.--'Yes! Please--please