The Republican. [volume] (Oakland, Md.) 1877-current, 1883-04-07
AUTUMN BLOSSOMS.


old bachelor? Net because of hating
women | am sure, for 1 liked then
very much, and meyer could have
spoken to one rudely or discourteous
ly in my life, AS nearly as | know
it was in this wise:
My father died, leaving family o
children, a wife, and an old father
and mother, of whom. only mysel
was able to earn shilling. He had
never saved anything.
So, after the first grief, when we
had calmed down, and were able tt
look matters quietly in the face, there
was wretched sort of prospect for us
L was only an accountant and had a
young fellows way of wasting my
small saIary IN thousand different
ways. I had been "paying attention.
to Elsie Hall, who, young and child
ish as she was. had way of leading
her admirers into extravaganza. OF
all the trials Of that never-tO be for
gotten 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 multitudinOus trifies at Elsie's
feet, was terrible ordeal | passed
through and if ever man had rea-
son to be thankful | had, for the ac-
auisitive little beauty Tilted me in a
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 man
aged to keep the wolf fro'n the door.
Sometimes | used to think how
well it was for Elsie that she had not
really loved me, for she could have
had nothing but dismal prospect of
wearing out her youth in dreary.
hopeless engagement to one too poor
to marry. That was until Tom ran
off. Then | thought it would have
been even far better for her to haye
shared our humble home and poor
fare, and the love l could have given
her, than to be deserted so. And l
pitied her, as if she had not proven
herself heartIess. But l never went
near her, of course, and 1 never even
spoke of her to my mother.
grew no younger all this while,
and every year seemed to add five
years to my looks. | had never been
handsome or very merry, and soon [
became conscious of a peculiar, mid
dIe-aged look, which settles down
upon some people very early.
Strangers, too, began to take me
for the head of the family; and once,
in new neighborhood, the butcher
alluded to "my-Wife." [ found that
he ment my mother, and only Won
dered that it was not dear old gran
ME.
She was eighty, grandfather nine
ty, and they died one bright autumn
day before prosperity came to us,
died within an hour of each other
for grannie just said, 81 think I'lI lie
down a bit now Lemuel don't need
me. Pm very tired"
Then she kissed me and said,
"You've been a good boy to your
grandma, Edward. You'll have that
to think Of"
And when we next looked at her
she was dead, with her hand upon
her cheek like sleeping child.
So two were gone, and we were
sadder than before. And then Jean,
my eldest sister, married at sixteen
a physician, who carried her off to
in her honeymoon.
And we could none of US feel the
wedding happy thing.
But prosperity did come at last. /
had worked hard for it, and anything
a man makes his sole object in this
life, he is very sure to attain.
We were comfortabIe-eas All,
what a word that is after years of
struggle! At last, we were rich. But
oy that time / was five and torty-a
large, dark, middle aged man, with
a face that looked to myself in the
glass as though it were perpetually
intent on figures. The girls were
married. Dick had taken to the sea,
and we saw him once a year or so I;
and Ashton was at home with mother
and myself-the only really hand
some member Of our family, and Just
two and twenty. And it was on his
birthday, l remember. that the letter
came to me from poor Hunter-that
letter which began: "When these
lines reach you, Ned Sandford,
shall have my six feet of earth-all
ever owned, or would if had lived
IN NO a bupIrnI ~