Wheeling Sunday register. [volume] (Wheeling, W. Va.) 1882-1934, 1883-05-13

| household pursuits, and loved To SIT
| bending over her embroidery frame by
the 4irtside; she even enjoyed making
\ budding, and collected many cunning
| recipe for the gOoseherry preserve that
! was literally spread upon the "scones"
! or cookies" Net she was fine mu-
/ sician; she played dexteriously On the
harp, and sang Jacobite ballads very
| sweetly. She was great lady oy olrth,
I and had been presented at court In Lon
! don, both Is girl and on the occasion
/ OF her marriage, though afterward my
! parents never wentsouth, and migrated
/ 10 Edinburgh only as q change from the
! dear old house in the east of Fife. But
my notber died when l was sill
! child, and was sent to London To De
! educated while my father Travelled
! abroad. which is perhaps the reason
! why have learned to speak with Eng
| lish intopStiOn, and not in the broad
| scent that my ears and my heart alike
! hold dear.
A. ] sit alone on the rocks and gaze
| out to seward. scene OF the past
! rises ND before my eyes. L am once
! more a fair young girl, Margaret Dair
! Sic, the heiress, dancing gayly through
! the brightly lighted rooms of my aunt's
house in POrtman square. The festivi-
! ties are in my honor; the ball is given
! because | have come of age, and the
/ guests have all tiocked around me with
I smiles and congratulations. The night
! is far advanced; have already waltzed
my white-satin slippers into holes, but
| the pleasanteet moment is yet to come.
J Early dawn streams ia through the
open windows; am standing in the
conservatory, amid the ferns aud roses,
and Douglas il with me, nay Douglas,
MARQUIS Of Clankeith. We are talking
of our marriage day, our future life in
the north, Our joyful hopes Of happy
years to come. Life lies between US
like n bea utCO,IS garden in which We
are to walk hand in hand, loving and
beloved. All, douglas, there is a garden
wherein we shall wander by aud by,
it is filled with lilies and asphOdels; its
walls are radiant with jasper and
jaciuth; have read OF it i'll my book of
life, and am content to wait.
! Sorrows mostly come together, NJ
Douglas went on Il short voyage, and
/ the ship was lost; uIy father, who had
I gambled heavily abroad, found himself
| utterly ruined: he died of grief and
/ heart disease, aud the old house in the
glenwaS sold. ltpasscd into the hands
of strangers, worthy people, | am told,
connected with 4 mercantile firm in
! Glasgow. Only the mill remained to
I me OF ms patrimOuy; ii l. small prop
| elty, that lies apart from the rest.
For some years after these disasters |
| remained living with my uncle and
! aunt but, when my uncle died, my
/ aunt broke up her London establish
mcut, and went to reside permanently
! in the south part OF France, She
/ wished me TO accompany her, but the
| lease on the mill farm hal just fallen
I in, and Was aCtusted 10y u strong de-
| sire To dwell in my tain cOuutric,"
| among nv lain folk" | came north
and took my abode here with faithful
! Janet who had already been my maid
| and attendant for some tune, and |
/ have never left the place again. lpray
/ the ord may never leave it, for where
! shall find q spot on earth that | love
! ike this" know every rock, every
! line of the coast: mtthiHls could rec
| OgniIe the very pebbles i'll the road or
! the individual -prig- Of the sweetbriar
| hedge surrounding my tiny garden.
| Wonder, beside the barn, stand q couple
} of pictureSIe elmS, somewhat broken
! by the StOrm-win also my iavoritc
rowan tree, laden with berries; and
though ( was never taught to draw
with pencil or british. yet, when close
my eyes, J can count each branch Of
those brave trees as | see them in my
dreams against the clear sky.
Old I.iSbeth Morrison hnrsupOn broke
in upon my "reminiscences. She had
been to ill her pail al the we'll in the
farm-yard, and, on her return, had evil
IDENTIFY come slightly out of her way to
! enOy a short "craCk" TOR gossip with
me. She put down the dripping buck
81 on the sandy path, and remained
| standing, yard or two above where !
sat. nOdding and smiling at me.
IT'S gran day this for the harvest,
Mistress DairSie"''
at is indeed, I.isbeth, And how are
you to-day
"t.n. mum, Tm no that weel in my
! circumstances. I'm q frail body the
moo. lt's maist the legs wine Mistress
Uairsie, We KEN"
"And hOw's your SOn getting ou"'
"Hech, sirs, he's but puir body, like
his auld mither, but he's aye that better
for the brothS yc sent him, Miss Dairsie,
many thanks to We, mum. He's had
| the doctor to him yesterday. But his
wife, she's weel, ye ken, and the BARNS
are bonnie, big, lusty laddies. En-, but
We shOuld see them, Mistress Darsie,
They're jist in fine mischief a the day,
and they're awful fond of sweetics, and
when ye're no looking, they make
their pinnies and their faces in u muckle
mess, We never knew the like
"And what DO you think of ne new
minister, I.isbeth~
"Aweel. Miss Darsie, but he'll he a
>irht better than the puir creature that's |
AVA. lie was nae much to my think
ing, though there were some that said
ne was q tine mOu at sick bed, he
was. But the new minister, Ell, he's
grand, was at the kirk myself on the
sabbath, and ne moved his ARMS ABBOTT
i'm the pulpit that brawley We could ma
but listen to him-eh, it's grand, it is,
and he dang'd the gOots out of twa BIZ
LlCS during the service, that he did!
II"'S great preacher, Mistress DairSie,
ay, lie is that surely"
I.isbeth thereupon tent slowly down
aud picked up her pail, and, a. she nod
ded farewell to me, she tOttered feebly
along the path, while |, whose medita-
tions she had disturbed, reused myself
also, and went away.
| crossed the little burn that ran rip
ping down beside the steep road to-
ward the big mill-wheel that gave its
name to the farm, aud 80 wendell my
way to the village. intending to call at
the pcst-Oilice. II Is not often that
letter comes to me: still | thought, per-
chance, to-day, my birthday-yet who
shOYld remember this day" There is
surely no one living now to whom the
anniversary brings any recolleciOns.
/ Half way up the hill | turned and
/ looked down upon my house. The
/ long golden roots glistened in the sun.
/ | remember how once my cousin Phil,
! who had travelled much abroad, told me
| that our Fife farms reminded him not
little Of the brown Lombard buildings
/ he delighted in, and that the mill farm
especially, whose large, low-roofed
sheds formed quadrangle Of goody
size, somewhat resembled the cloisterS
Of the ancient converts of northern
Italy. There, happy, the black rObed
figures pass to and fro, with quiet treat
| aOH GplpDon aEpn.f pliSaal arH hauHl In