Savannah courier. (Savannah, Tenn.) 1885-1979, 1886-04-08


The proposed visit to Los Angeles
was of course omitted, and the carriage
of Mrs. John Templeton never stood at
the door of the unknown doctor as the
chariot of Naaman the Syrian stood at
the door of the prophet Elijah.
After the first shock of the blow had
passed away, Maria Templeton, by !.
supreme act of the will, aroused herself
and became the brave woman which
she was at heart. She bore herself
well on the long journey home, and
rose to the emergency which the SAD
occasion demanded. The old home OF
her mother, with its solid furniture and
its familiar appointments, became hers;
and within months time the Temple
ton family had removed from their
narrow home in side street to the
spacious home of Maria's childhood on
the favored side of Walnut street,
Philadelphia. The will Maria knew
would be all right, and, being engaged
in the more congenial details of ar
ranging the house for her own family,
had left this mysterious business to her
husband and the family attorney, and
that unknown but ultimate combina-
ton, the prothonatory court and the
register of deeds.
Mr.. Templeton had told his wife each
week after their return from California
that he would bring home her mothers
legacy in day or two; but full month
had passed away without the appear
ance of the conventional tin box from
the safe deposit. k3t
At last, one Mon day afternoon, when
Maria had returned from days busy
shopping at the grand central depot of
John Wanamaker's, the conversation
with which the story began took place
in the hallway of the Walnut street
residence. Aunt Amelia had come!
Aunt Amelia was to be domesticated in
Maria Templeton's new home, and was
to be constant factor in the equation
of the home life of the new establish
ment. At breakfast, dinner and sup
per, on the stairs and in the drawing
room, in her own room and in the
guest-chamber, by day and by night,
in the short days of winter and in the
long days of summer, at every turn in
existence, she, Martha Templeton, was
continually to behold the face of Aunt
Amelia, and be conscious of her pres
ence, subordinating the ways of the
household to her own depraved and in
tricate will.
mo, John" she exclaimed, us the
bleaching white of the sense of emu
took the place of the glow from tn,
excitement of shopping which was OF
her cheeks rs she entered the house
'no, John, this can not be. There
must be some mistake about it. NJ
mother never would intlict such loat
of care and responsibility upon on
whom she loved SO much as she did me
Let me see the will
John handed his wife stiff piece o
parchment from the inner pocket of hi
coat, and, spreading it out upon tn
piano in the parlor, laid his finger upol
the following passage:
II give and bequeath to my cousil
Amelia Burton Cranbrook, otherwis
known as Aunt Amelia, the interest Of
the sum of thirty thousand dollars
during her life, the money itself to b
given to my daughter. Maria on tn
death. of the said Amelia Burton Gran
brook. And it is, moreover, my wis
, and desire, as the condition upo
7 which the aforesaid sum shall descen
to my aforesaid daughter, Maria TEN
pleton, that the aforesaid Amelia Bul
, ton Cranbrook shall live with sal
: daughter Maria, If the aforesaid Mari
occupies during her lifetime my res
S dence situated upon Walnut street, i
5 the city OF Philadelphia" ,
"You could move out, Maria, and 9
back again to your residence on Sout
Nineteenth street." said John, as h
watched the dazed look on his wife
: face; "but then you are so comforts
7 bly, settled now that it would be pit
to take up the carpets one week afte
. they have been put down. Besides
u you would have to go, every few days
II to see your Aunt Amelia at her boarC
s ing-house on Mount Vernon street.
II All further conversation about tn
: will was interrupted by knock at tn
Il drawing-room door.
!, "Miss Amelia wants to know
!, there is any more boiled milk for he
= chocOlatep" asked the waitress. 9Th
II milk | took up before was scalded; an
- she says, ma am, please not to forget h,
!; = belladonna pills, and the pepsin. An
- one thing | most forgot. She wan
!, John to go up to her boarding-hous
!. and fetch down her hot-water spin
: bag. She left it behind when she packe
:, up her trunk
- "Don't let me keep you, Maria.
O. said her husband. you have bee
a = waiting for your mothers legacy
=, into the kitchen, my dear, and get
VI some hot milk for its chocolate"
~ Amelia Cranbrook, Mrs. Pentreat
~ Jones cousin, otherwise known
ia Aunt Amelia, had been an invalid fro
at her youth. The shawl and sofa we
a her daily companions, and what hs
az once been her mind had now become
\. mere registering machine, like Il
clicking indicator of stocks on the en-
n less telegraphic slips of modern br
al ker's office. Herimagination furnish,
No the facts for this daily quotation
be physical stocks, and her retentive mel
a DRY kept the books of this physic,
" mental and moral firm, known
10 Amelia Burton Cranbrook. There we
rs intricacics in her will which stood in
,o yital connection with certain myste
. Gus integuments of her liver. Her W
r. was a complicated knot of strange al
oil undecipherable Inconsistencies. and W
go the outward and visible sign of her i
be ward and intricate nerves. With
herphysical entanglements and nervo
nm complications. however, Miss Amel
he Burton Cranbrook held what she !
a joiced to call, in religious parlanC
NV ..clear views of truth.
o. She thought it no wrong to read op
a. letters. unprecedented; to feign sleep
As illness or bodily infirmity, if there
la she could have her own way witho
er blame or responsibility. Objectionat
cs newspapers disappeared from the