Sacramento daily record-union. [volume] (Sacramento [Calif.]) 1875-1891, 1886-01-01

| love of it, with its daily round of customs,
its relish of food, and comfort of rest, and
| Joy in the breath of outdoor air, in the light
and purity of the heavens above us. twas
bright day of the last week in April, and
| Glendinning was seated in his usual place
| by the window, where all sweet sights and
sounds of the springtime came pleasantly
in. There was shade of most delicate
green upon trees and underbrush. the bud
ding of that abundant foliage which in
summer nearly hid the lake view from the
house windows.
Mysie had gone after wintergreens. 1t
was Mysie who had called the first faint
smile to the lips of Glendinning, with her
merry chatter. Through Mysie. Natures
voices called to him, and he awoke. She
brought to him all the spring-time treas
ures-spicy berries, sweet wild flowers,
curious MOSES, the wounded dove, the
captured squirrel, the field mouse's nest,
with its blind, pink occupants, the rabbits
bright, so fearlessly outspoken, so careless
ly mirthful. The " iron rule of home
sat lightly upon her. She had never
feared her father, and, as is often the case
with natures like his, he was fond of her
because of her fearlessness. She had given
Glendinning saucy nod and promise of
plenty of wintergreens.
His eyes were still fixed on the spot
where the futtering pink OF her dress had
disappeared among the trees, but he had
ceased to think of her. Memory was busy
with him. The mother, who had been
| busily passing to and fro, tidying up the
house, after the noon meal, now came with
her knitting and took her usual seat near
him. He smiled on her as she came, and
| some reflection of the smile seemed to
brighten her face and make ii look less sad
and careworn. He had grown verv dear
TO her in those long weeks of convalescence,
and repaid her devotion with affection
which he had given to no one. since his
| mothers death. He knew that he ought
| to tell her what she longed to know Her
eyes had questioned him, not her words
those soft brown eyes, that were SO like
Neliy's, though set in a worn and faded
face
1t was an effort to open that close shut
heart, even to Nelly's mother; but, sitting
there, the gaunt and haggard wreck of his
old self, he told her all the story of that
Christmas Eve He told it clearly, omit
ting nothing, as he might tell the story of
another.
His auditor, after the first surprised and
startled glance at him when he began TO
speak, had hidden her face in her checked
| apron and listened in breathless silence.
Her thin form shook with suppressed
feeling as he went on, but he did not see
it. His eyes were fixed on the sunny,
dimpling surface of the lake with a far
away look in them, which had replaced
the old-time bright, merry directness of
their expression.
His voice ceased at last, and silence fell
between them, in which the chirp of the
bird and insect world without came pleas
antly in with the rustic of the afternoon
breeze-nature's interlude to this prose
poem just told. that had no voice of wailing
in it. He spoke again:
Mother, | know what you have done
for me. Now | shall soon be WELL and
must find work"
Her hand was upon his shoulder in an
instant. Oh, not yet, not yet my dear
lad Thou'rt not strong enow. Thou art
dearly welcome to me- thou knowest And
Ramsey has never liked any one so well.
He has been so kind; l didna think it was
in him. | well know he is sorry he spoke
so hard to Nelly
You will not lose me quite yet, he
said, looking down at the white, limp
hands that were folded over his shrunken
chest. 1 did not think to live, but now |
feel the life coming back to me, lust as the
little leaves out yonder feel the sap in
them. Folk that live in this world must
have food and clothes, whether they have
heart for them or not.n
1t was as he said. Strength came with
the warm, bright days. The harvest time
found his arm ready. He labored stead
lily, cheerily, the season through for his
kind entertainers. Mrs. Ramsey's chilled
repressed nature felt the genial influence of
one so sunny and sweet, and she grew
cheerful. Mysie with her romping gayety,
carried breeze of fun with her that swept
W sad thnnnhfc H.. a
gone to Albany in the spring to make prep
arations for her marriage with Colonel
McAlpine, to whom she had been for some
time engaged. Uncle Ralphs visits were
more frequent now. He missed his niece
sadly. Mysie usually secured the most of
his attention, and the child's company
cheered him greatly. When Rose was at
home many delicate gifts came from her.
which were beyond the means of stay-at-
home people; and they still continued to
come, Ralph saying that he knew what
Rose would like so well that it was easy to
do it.
Glendinning grew restless as the au-
tumn came on. He was by nature and
temperament an adventurer Sweet home
ties of wife and children might have been
strong enough to detain him for life
time in some happy spot; but now he
wearied of everything, and was eager for
change. Long were the talks that he held
with Uncle Ralph. The old man and the
young one drew very close together, held
by band OF unexpressed sympathy, as
lasting as it was deep.
The fall elections came ON and Hugh Nc
Gregor was again called to a seat among
the Legislators at Albany. Hewas to make
his home with Rose, and after the session
would travel in foreign lands, with Rose
and her husband. They might be absent
two years-they could not tell how long.
Uncle Ralph dropped under this intelii-
gence, though refusing the invitation to 60
with them. Blackbird paved the brown
turf at the gate of the Ramseys oftener
than ever in those days. Glendinning de
termIned to seek for employment, and
Ralph resolved to go with him, and keep
an eye upon him" as he said to anxious
Mrs. Ramsey.
The perspective was not heightened out
by long lines of railway in those days.
Twenty miles was good distance when
separating friends; and when the wished
for opportunity came, by the starting of
new sawmill in the Oswego river country.
great was the regret of the family by the
lake. Mysie cried, both loud and long,
without any attempt at restraint. Her
mother SAID little, but busted herself with
preparations for the travellers comfort
parting must come; but he had held her
hands in his firm clasp and called her
mother" when he had told her about it.
and she had felt the conviction that
neither life nor death could keep those
parted forever who love each other. When
the friends at Ephesus accompanied Paul
the Apostle little way on his Journey to
Jerusalem, the Scriptural record has i'm
mortallzed that solemn, tender parting be-
tween friends who should see each others
faces no more forever" The simple,
pathetic narrative touches the heart of
every reader. for it strikes the keynote of
all partings from that hour to the end of
time.
Ralph McGregor had not cared to wit
ness this one. and had arranged to wait
with Blackbird the coming of bis friend at
a point half mile below Mrs. Ramsey
threw her apron over her head and walked
TO the turn ID the road with Archer. And
after whisper of farewell and a blessing,
watched his fine young form till it van
ished out of her sight
1t was now two years since the parting of
Archer Glendinning with his adopted
mother; yet he came not back. He was
yet at the mill on the Oswego. No stranger
now, but loved and trusted by all that little