The Forest Republican. [volume] (Tionesta, Pa.) 1869-1952, 1884-07-02
THE OLD TREES SECRET.


eve will take the house--shall we not,
Charlie2" We had gone al over the
roomy, old-fashioned house, my little
wife and ], from the dusty, cobwebbed
garTet to the neglected cellars, and we
now stood together at the back of the
garden, critically surveying its appear
ance.
1t was low two-story house, built in
the shape of II, with q cluster of tall
chimneys in the middle and the three
gables hidden in ivy. 1t had once stood
quite out of the town, which had since
gradually crcpt toward it. until what had
been a road was now become a street Of
struggling cottages and villas, extending
to the high wall inclosing the grounds.
The lawn was shaded with old trees, and
the garden choked up with thickets of
lilac and SNOWFALL. The old lady, Mrs.
Gage, who had for forty years resided
here, leading a very secluded and invalid
life, had taken no pains to keep the place
in order, and she and the property had
decayed together, until recently she had
died, and the house was for sale.
at looks dreadfully gloomy and neg
lected," said Cecie, gazing up at the
back windows. "AIrs. Moss, next door,
says that for twenty years no one has
occupied those upper rooms; and see
how the ivy has bound together those
shutters on the left. But it is beauti-
ful old house, and / know that we can
make it bright and cheerful. And then
the garden-what delight it will be to
the children. and to ourselves, too. We
will take it, won't we, Chaclie2"
There was no resisting her pleading,
coaxing manner. So that very evening
went to see the agent, and before the
week had elapsed the house was ours.
With what zeal and enjoyment we en-
tered upon the transformation of our
new abode. The masses of ivy were torn
down from the gables or judiciously
trimmed; every door and window was
thrown wide to the fresh air and sun
light; and paint and paper muslin cur
tains, and bright carpets and India mat
ting made the house delightful to be-
hold
This much accomplished, we turned
our attention to the garden. 1t was al
ready June, and the season too advanced
for much improvement; but we pulled
down the rotted arbors, thinned out the
thickets of roses and lilacs and l caused
little round table and some rustic gar
den seats to be placed under an old tree
at the further end of the central walk.
Here, on returning from my office on the
warm, sunny evenings, we would sit
Cecie engaged with some light stitching,
and with cigar, books and papers, read
ing to her, while our little ones ran wild
up and down the garden walks.
"This is thoroughly delightful"
remarked, one evening. GLOW is it,
Cecie, that we have managed to live
eight years Of housekeeping life without
gardenl"
EYES," she answered, radiantly, "it
Is delightful. Living so much in the
open air one seems to take new an6
fresh growth, like the flowers. Only
and here she glanced uneasily around
"Only, Charlie, think fancy-that
this is not exactly the spot for our a
fresco boudoirn
"Why not2 1t faces the walk it com
mands a view of the house and the
whole garden. And these branches
hanging so low and clothed in ivy, make
nice canopy above US. What is it thai
you object tol
scarcely know, But somehow
have never liked this tree
1t was very old tree under which w
sat, with huge gnarled trunk growing
in a sloping position near the gardeI
wall, and covered with ivy. About eigh
feet from the ground the trunk separated
into three branches, and here the ivy haC
matted itself in an impeyious mass, con
cealing the decayed branches with tn
exception of the eXtremities, which her
and there protruded from the green mass
white and bare.
"They look like skeleton fingers,
said Cecie, glancing up, "and it give
me the horrors. l think the tree ough
to be cut down. 1t always reminds m
of a graveyard or a haunted house"
did not at the time pay much atten
ton to her remarks. But some day
after she again suggested that our gan
den table and chairs should be removed
to some other spot.
81 don't know why it is, ," she said
uneasily, "but l always feel neryou
here. fancy there is something pecu
cuiar about the place in the rustling {
the ivy and in the very atmosphere;
often find myself starting and lookin