The Columbian. [volume] (Bloomsburg, Pa.) 1866-1910, 1885-01-23

Stephen Basque, was new revelation
to the young girl. For the first time
she has found one who understood her
love of nature, aud did not look upon
her alteration of birds and flowers as
mere folly. He talked of art and
beauty, and Sister Anne awakened TO
poetry, until then divinity unknown.
He lent her couple volumes of Ten
nyson and she bebeld how, by a magic
art, life and substance, and all the pas
sions of beauty of earth, could be trans
terred into print and paper to live for
ever. In the midst of this delight
ful dream dream far more delicious
than all her bird and forest visions,
Stephen Basque packed up his small
vaise and large sketch-book, and went
off to New York City to pursue his
art. Poor Sister Anne was left doubly
alone; and wher she went out into the
fields for the first time after his depart
ure, it seemed as if the birds no longer
knew her as of old. She wandered
now less than of yore, but shut herself
up in her room, which soon began tn
be Uttered with bits of paper scrawled
all over. Her mother and sisters
grumbled in vain her little room was
to her sanctuary, and she fled there
from persecution. 1t seems to me at
that moment allude to Sister Anne
sat on the porch and dreamed Of Steph.
en- Basque.
"As usual-idle! Will you never
do anything useful child ?" cried Mrs.
Plymott, Sister Annes excellent moth
er. 'Look at your sisters busy on faith
er's shirts, and you-you do nothing
but sit like a lady all day long, with
your hands before YOU
81 cant work." mother answered Sis
/ ter Anne, starting from her roverie
with an expression of sudden pain, as
the old lady emerged from the cottage
door, her large hands parboiled with
washing Il know | am very useless
to you, but it pains me to sew
"Pains? trash!' cried Mrs. Plymott.
"You are the skit of the whole village.
Do you know what they call you? You
don't? well they call you Mother Plym-
otis Duchess
Sister Anne smiled sadly.
ave have no titles in America" she
said, $50 they are wrong"
ooh! its easy TO turn the matter into
jest, but | tell you it's no joke for
me to have a child that is not able to
earn a cent for herself, or save one for
me. What would you do Miss the
old woman continued with a savage
sneer, "if father and / were to die ?
How would you earn your bread
eh!"
81 don't know exactly" said Anne,
"but | don't suppose that God would
allow me to die of starvation any more
than he allows the robin ard the chip
ping bird
Mrs. Plymott burst into a loud
coarse laugh.
80 you'd live on berries, and sleep
in the hedges, my pretty little robin,
would you ? Oh! how pleasant you'd
find it! I'll lay in a lot of poke berries
for You this fall, and your feeding will
be cheap during the winter
''Does my feeding cost you much,
mother p asked Sister Anne, mild
ly.
More than you are WORTH" was the
brutal reply.
Then it shan't cost you anything
for the future answered the young
girl, whose dreamy face lit up for
moment with a fash of insult.
ed pride.
"Oh! we're offended, are we we
are going to earn our own living !!
Good luck to you child Let us see
how long this good resolution Will
last"
Longer than you imagine, mother"
said Sister Anne, retiring quietly to her
room.
She had taken on a sudden strange
resolution, Her arrangements were
quickly made. She packed up a few
things in a small bundle. examined her
pockets, which she found contained ex-
actly the sum Of eight aud sixpence.
This done, she sat herself down to her
little table and continued to write on
several strips of paper until late in the
night
The next morning Sister Anne was
up by daylight, reinspecting her little
bundle of clothes, and making her
slips of paper up into small parcel.
This done, she slipped into the break
fast par'or and sat down to breakfast
calmly, as usual,
"Well, are you going to idle to-day,
as usual?" said her sister Mary.
"No,' answerel Sister Anne, with
queer smile, 81 am going to be very in
dustrious."
Then as soon as breakfast was con
cluded, she stole out unobseryed by
her industrious family, and, bundle in
hand SET off for the railway station,
which was distant about two miles. AS
she walked along the scrubby plain the
lazy dreamer seemed to have vanished.
She ran and skipped along, and tossed
her bundle aloll, and sang vague melo
dies to herself, The face so still and
calm seemed on fire with bold resolve,
Assuredly Sister Anne had some great
scheme in her little head.
She reached the station, paid from
out of her eight shillings for ticket
to New York, and seated herself tim.
idly in vacant chair. 1t was the first
time in her life that Sister Anne had
been on a railroad, and it was with
much wonder and alarm that she be-
held herself hrled along until trees,
and fields, and houses seemed to melt
into a confused mass. Ere she had
ceased to tremble and wonder the cars
went more and more slowly, and she
was informed that she had arrived at
Brooklyn. She hurried, ont, and fol-
lowing the stream, found herself on
board ferry boat, aud in few Sec
onds across the river, and in great
city, Never having been in New
York but once before, Sister Anne
knew nothing whatever of the huge
town, but being a stout little body,
and having learned sort of fearless
freedom from her friends the birds, she
asked the first person she met to direct
her to the Office of the Hoe daily news
paper. The man said he was going in
that diraction and thot if sha ,uon11