The Vancouver independent. (Vancouver, W.T. [Wash.]) 1875-1910, 1884-02-07
OWN tavoflte spring bltters VI

one is indeed excellent III case o
Sickness" and she comes at such times
like a veritable angel of mercy, bring
ing with her her soft voice and gentle,
soothing ways, not forgetting the noise
less slippers and the white apron.
Aunt Bethia is, suppose, al old
maid; but there is no bitter blight of
disappointment on her life.
She has never loved, and her unwon
heart is still fresh with the dew of
youth. Though her lovely hair is just
beginning to be threaded with gray, she
knows not the feeling of growing old,
neither do the passing years bring any
definite sense of want to her peaceful,
sunny nature, except, perhaps, some
times dreamy feeling of incomplete
ness, like the faintest shadow only of
pain.
Her city nieces tell her often, with
many a hug and caress, that her face is
the sweetest and dearest in all the
world, that she looks quite to utterly"
quaint and lovely in her lace and mus
lin kerchiefs and her pretty white
aprons; and she always answers
deprecatingly:
But. oh, my dears, I am so old-fash-
ioned"
Nevertheless, when she is alone she
looks in the glass and bushes warmly.
half inclined to believe Their sweet
words, and wholly glad that she is not
vet growing homely, though she feels
little guilty, too, as if she ought to do
so. Then she turns away and signs
softly; she knows not why.
Now fate had ordained that when
Aunt Bethia came to visit in our family
we should be entertaining, as an
honored guest, our uncle, Jeremiah
Barker, or Uncle jerry" as we
children Familiarity called him, though
he was only distant relative on my
fathers side.
He had been knocking about for the
last fifteen years or so in Australia, and
having amassed considerable fortune,
returned now to his native city, with
the hope of ending his days among his
kindred.
He was unmarried; and hidden
secretly away in his rugged bachelor
heart was the long cherished dream of
q wife and tireside of his own.
But after spending the best part of
his life in rough toll, separated from
all society of women-or in fact, So
ciety of any sort-he found himself
now laboring under great disadvan-
tages.
The girls that he knew and played
with when he was boy had grown so
far away from him in many directions
that he felt he had no part or lot with
them, and so. slowly and sadly, the
hope of years began to fade away.
1t was Just here that dear, old fash
toned Aunt Bethia came into his life
and from the first moment of their
meeting Uncle Jerry appropriated her
in his heart of hearts, as the one wo-
man specially provided for him, and
straightway elected her to preside over
that ideal future he had dreamed of.
In short, for the first time in his life
he found himself passionately in love,
and as men of his years are apt to do
in such case, he resolved to make
"short work. of his wooing.
Accordingly he spent one week in
watching her every word and action
and in studying her face from under his
shaggy eyebrows, while he pretended
to read his newspaper.
Another week he devoted to follow
ing her about and waiting upon her
with such alarming assiduity, that the
little woman began to wonder and to
tremble at she knew not what.
Finally, he grew impatient to know
his fate.
What is the use of beating about
the bush?" he said to hing
self, in his blunt fashion. IF she
don't fancy me now she never will, and
l may as well know it,"
So he came in upon her one after
noon as she sat knitting by the window,
and, nerving himself for decisive ef
fort. he thus addressed her:
"Bethia, l hain't known you long, to
be sure, but | feel better acquainted
with you to-day than l should with any
other woman in years time. Things
have changed 'mazingly in the fifteen
years that I've been away from home,
and the women most of all. 1 find
don't know 'em.
The girls that used to study out
of the same books with at school, !
hear talking now about 'cultur,' ana
art, and 'atfinities,' and so on and so
forth-all Greek to me. | left EN-
dom homework and knittin' stockin's,
and now 1 find 'em playin' on the
pianner, and ravin' over picters and
statoos things l don't know nothin'
about-and what's more, l don't want
to,
THE only statoos that ! ever liked
the looks on at all, is the Indian girls
standin' outside of the tobacker shops.
And as for musn-why, Bethia, Id
ruther hear you sing old Naomi, the
way you did last Sunday night, than all