Alpena weekly argus. [volume] (Alpena, Mich.) 1871-1893, 1883-05-23
AUTUMN BLOSSOMS.

How was II that | came TO be an old
bachelor? Not because of hating women,
| am sure, for liked them very much.
and never could have spoken to one rude
ly or discourteously in my life. As
nearly as ! know in this wise:
My father died, leaving a family Of
children, wife, and an old father and
mother, of whom only myself was able
to earn shilling. He had never saved
anything.
So, after the first grief, when we had
Gained down, and were able to look
matters in the face, there was wretched
sort of prospect for us. | was only an
accountant, and had young fellows
way of wasting my small salary in n
thousand different ways. had been
paying attention" to Elsie Hall, who,
young and childish as she was, had a
way of leading her admirers into extrav-
agance. OF all the trials of that never
to-be-forgotten time, think the greatest
was appearing to be niggardly in those
baby blue eyes. / did not mind wear
ing plain suits, discarding kid-gloves,
and renouncing the opera; but not to lay
those bouquets, and books, and music,
and dainty bits of jewelry, and multitu-
dinous trihes. at Elsie's feet was terri
BILE ordeal. 7 passed, though; and if
ever a man had reason to be thankful |
had, for the acqusitive little beauty
Tilted INC in month for Tom Tandem,
who was rich and lavish of gifts, and
who ran away from her, after a marriage
of ten months.
/ worked night and day, and managed
to keep the wolf from the door.
Sometimes / used to think how well
il was for Elsie that she had not really
loved me, she could have had nothing
but dismal prospect of wearing out her
youth in dreary, hopeless engagement
10 one too poor to marry. That
was until Tom ran off. Then | thought
it would have been even better for
her to have shared our humble
home and poor fare, and the love could
have given her, than to be deserted so.
And pitied her, as if she had not proven
herself hcartless. But never went near
her, of course, and never even spoke Of
her TO my mother.
grew no younger all this while, and
every year seemed 10 add five years to
my looks. had never been very hand
some or very merry, and soon ] became
conscious of peculiar, middle-aged
look, which settles down upon some
people very early.
Strangers, too, began 10 take me for
the head of tee family; and once, In o
new neighborhood, the butcher alluded
to my wife" found that he meant
my mother, aud only wondered that it
was not dear old grannie.
She was eighty, grandfather ninety,
and they died one bright autumn day be-
fore prosperity came to us, died within
an hour of each other-for grannie Just
said 81 think I'll lie down bit now
Lemuel don't need me. I'm very tired, F"
Then she kissed me and said: you've
been good boy to your grandma, Ed
ward. You'll have that TO think Of"
And when we next looked mt her she
was dead, with her hand uponher cheek,
like a sleeping child.
So two were gone. and we were sadder
than before. And then Jean, my eldest
sister, married at sixteen physician,
who carried her off TO Hindoostan in her
honeymoon.
And we could none of us feel the we'd
ding happy thing.
But prosperity did come at last. ! had
worked hard for it, and anything man
makes his sole object in this life he is
very sure TO attain.
We were comfortable-easy All, what
a word that is after years of struggle
At last, we were rich, BY that time |
was five-and-forty-a large, dark, mid
dle-aged man, with face that looked TO
myself in the glass rs though it were
perpetually intent on figures. The girls
were married. Dick had taken to the
sea, and we saw him once year or 80
and Ashton was at home with mother
and myself--the only really handsome
member Of our family, and just two
aEd-twenty. And it was OH his birth.
day, | remember that the letter came ia
me from poor Hunter-that letter which
began: "When these lines reach you,
Ned Sanford, shall have my six feet OF
earth-all / ever owned, or would il |
lived 10 be hundred"
We had been young together, though
he was really older than ] and we had
been close friends once; but a rowing fit
Lad seized him, and we had not met for
years ] knew he had married Kentish
>
me that she was dead, ahd that his death
would leave a daughter an orphan.
She is not quite penniless," he wrote,
for her mother had little income, which,
poor as was, was never brute enough
t. meddle with, and it has descended to
her. But have been rolling stone,
gathering no moss all my life, and we
have never stayed long enough in one
place to make friends. Will you be he,
guardian? II is dying mans last re.
quest"
And the result of that letter, and an.
other from the lawyer who had Annie
Hunters little fortune In charge, was
one soft spring day found me on board q
great steamer that lay ut rest after hel
voyage in the protecting arms of Liver
pool, with two little hands in rhine, and
pair of great brown eyes lifted to
my face, and n sweet voice chcked with
sObs saying something of "poor papa,
and cf how much he had spoken Of me
and of the lonely voyage, and the greer
graves left behind, and ], who had gone
to meet child and found woman, look
ing al her and feeling toward her as
had never looked upon nor felt to any
other.
Not 10 Elsie Hall. IL was not the boy
ish love dream come again.
Analysing my emotion, / found only
great longing 10 protect and comfort
her-to guard her from every pain and
Ill., and | said 10 myself; Thi,
is IA father must feel to n daughter
can be parent TO Georg,
Hunters child, in very truth" Ano
took her nome to the old house, and tt