The Portland daily press., 1884-11-26

1t was a restful, charming, quiet place to
which they bad come TO make their ne home.
The house was built on the brow of green
knoll that sloped up from the road. Some
young naples grew along the rise. Level, fer
tile fields with silver brook running through,
and graceful elms growing here and there,
stretched away in front to the famous, great
forest of monster Norway pines called "Dyer's
Pl9ins;" beyond, were undulating hills and
little valleys, maple aud oak groves and apple
orchards. Behind the mouse rose woods of
hard wood trees and evergreens, all over the
grey boulder strewn pasture. There was a fine
orchard bearing grated apples and the farm
was under a good state of cultivation. The
Weeds were well-tG-do people and they could
zee what the place would become In time with
the expenditure of little money; so that they
were well content, and after having owned and
sold several places before coming here, they
made mp their minds to settle down for life.
But the coming among the young people, OF
the adopted son, was event that awakened
great expectancy aud excitement, and long to
be remembered He was a handsome strip
ling, tall and slender, with bonny brown eyes,
glossy, curling, black hair, rosy cheeks and
disposition kind and gentle, but prone to all
sorts of mischief from 'cutting out another
fellow in seeing pretty girl home from SPELL
ing matches or singing schools, to keeping
staid and slow going people awake o'nights
while he aud his mates trampsd home from
some country dance, husking or merry-making
miles away, singing in voice not remarkable
for melody:
The fiddler being willing
His arms being strong
Played The Grounds of Old Ireland
For four hours longl
Played 'Ihs Grounds of Old Ireland
For four hours long,
or some other ditty of like classic sentiment
and expression.
Many middle-sged woman with the tender
feeling, half pleasure, half pain, that attaches
to the memories of youth that is past, can re-
call the bitlets dOuI that shs sent to the good
looking young fellow, and remembers the riy-
alries, the heart bnrnings aud jealousies conse-
quent upon bis advent at the spelling matches,
singing schools and parties, and at the break
ing up OF these revellings when there were
heats thai fluttered and hearts that fell, nit
tens that could not be worn and fond hopes
given that were not realized.
But he was good lad too, ag much in favor
with the boys or young men of his own age as
be was admired by the girls and loved as dear
ly by his adopted father and mother as though
he bad!been in truth their own son. 1 remem-
Der that Aunt Miriam said once Edward
never said saucy nor cross word to me in
his lifal'
And the years of his boyhood and early man.
hood passed away. During these years Mrs
Weed, or Aunt Sally as she was more inti-
matey called, kept the old farm house as neat
and clean as hands could make it. She was
always model housekeeper. Her butter was
always the yellowest and sweetest, her home-
made cheese the richest, her bread the whitest
and lightest, her cookies-as many of the
children knew-the crispest and most delicious
OF any made IN Quaker Brook And her hnusa
was always the cosieet in winter and the cool
est and freest from flies in summer. But her
son was past his noisiest age, at least at home
and 1T was always quiet,-so very, very qniet.
not mncn IKE "nst 1t was to be in ths years
that were hasteaiUg onl
And Mr.. Weed, 1amiliarly and affectionatelv
known as Uncle jim" who OF us doss not re-
member the dear, good, old man, respected nv
his nelghbors and especially beloved of the
children? His peculiar gentleness disarmed
the awe OF his being deacon in the Bantist
church. The Hubbardston apples and portera
and pumpkin sweets, summer greeninps and
"cat heads in his orchard had a famous renn-
tation among the little folks. They we're often
invited to come IN and help themselves to the
coveted beauties lying SO thickly on the green
velvety sod under the trees in the orchard
But sometimes he purDosely or accidentallv
forgot their longlngs, and then the one whose
turn It was, would sigh very audiblv as he
passed them at their play sure to be within easy
distance OF the orchsrd-"Oh dear: T wish I
had some apples!" With sly twinkle in his
eye, when did he ever fail to say, "Well, Won
can go and pick up some, all of YOU"
In the quiet atmosphere of such home.
surrounded, restrained and guided BY whole
some anu penencent Influences, young Edward
left off sowing his wild oats in good season-ba
had never lard ont for large crop, nor were
they OF an alarming kind, nor likely to snread
much-and took to himself a wife. In his
choice he showed no less sense than taste.
Modest, delicate, winning little Francis WeaS
was the lady of his heart. AS their own
niece, she was already dear to his father and
mother, so one bright day he brought her
home, his bride. 1t was Thanksgiving Dav
and twenty-five years ago. The snow Law
tnlck and solt on the ground and young hearts
kept quick time to the happy TICKLING music Of
the bells. The bare, fine branches Of the trees
formed delicate tracery against the clear
sky. Glistening particles in the snow shone
and sparkled like millions of diamonds along
t1elr way. AT the old homestead a glowing
ire on the hearth welcomed them and in the
rosy flames rushing eagerly upwards, the
young couple saw reflected as rosy as they
their dreams and visions of the future
20 Fortunate o happy day,
When new household finds its place.
Among the myriad homes OF earth
Like new star Just sprung to birth
And rolled on its harmonious way
Into the bonndess realms of spacep'
| Pleasant were the years that followed. Tbev
| brought cares to the young couple with the
| little children, and sunshine aud lisht-heart-
| edness In their merry, childish voices to
"GraDdpa" and "Aunt Sally" and 0Annt
| Miriam" as the children always called them.
| There vas music too in the sound of the Little
ieet that went racing everywhere, up stairs
| and down, all over the house no neater now
than any of the neighbors, so they all said.
But not a straw cared Aunt Sallyl Were peT-
| feet order and immaculateness to he priced
| above the darling children? Forbid it, shades
| of all departed grandmothersl She welcomed
each new conner down 10 the fifth, Just as
| warmly and lovingly as she had his predeces-
sor and they all loved her dearly 10 return.
| And God spared them, every one. When
they were nearly grown, the dear grandfather
was taken away TO a better world. It seemed
to the children that he did not need to be mueh
| better than he was here. He left his wife
With her children and grandchildren and aha
| grew more fond of them all, because of her
| loneliness, and clung to them more and more.
After while, the Oldest CHILD, dark-syed,
| sweet-faced girl, married tho young man who
had been always faithful to her, his child
| sweetheart, and went to share his life and
home. Only three of the Quaker Brook farms
separated her from the home that had shel.
tered her infancy and she could see them all
| every day of her life.
The years are rolling away. God willing
may our friends celebrate their golden as they
| now celebrate their silver wedding.
| The silver wedding comes to them in their
happiness and plenty and content, while they
| are surrounded by their children and best in
their love. OF the golden wedding may it be
said
''What see now? The night il fair
| The storm Of grief, the clouds of care,
| The wind, the rain. have passed away:
| The lamps are lis the fires burn bright.
The house is full of life and light;
| 1t is the Golden Wedding day
| The guests come thronging in once more
Quick footsteps sound along the floor
| 1he trooping children crowd the stair
And in and out and everywhere
Flashes along the corridor
| The sunshine of their golden hair.
|
Ofortunate, o happy day.
| Tbe people sing, the people say,
| The ancient bridegroom audithe bride
| Smiling, contentet and serene
Upon the blithe, bewideriDg scene.
| Behold, well pleased, on every side
Their forms aud features multiplied
| IS the reflection of light
| Between two FURNISHED mirrors CLEANS
| Or lamps upon bridge at night
| Stretch on and on before the sight
| Till the long vista endless seems.''
BRAVE DEEDS.
Heroic Act of IA Brooklyn Linemsn-A
Brave sigaal NaB Faces Death 10 Per
form His Du.y.
Frank Allen aud Thomas Fitzpatrick, line
men in the employ of the Long Island Tele
phone Company, were engaged Monday in RS
adjusting the wires at the top of an 80 fee
pole on Washington and York street, Brook
| lyn. Allen who il an axnar;ancad Iirar,o -