Connecticut western news., 1886-03-17
AN EASTER GIFT.

"No," said Uncle Zebedee, "no; we told 'em just exactly how 'twould be. They wouldn't believe us. Now let lem take the consequences" "We warned lem beforehand" said Aunt Zeruiah. ''rhey couldn't expect nothin' fairer than that"
 Uncle Feb and Aunt Ruey sat looking at each other, one on either side of the big stone fireplace, like the old man and woman we sometimes see tete-a-tete in g toy-shop.
 They were ancient and weazen and wrinkled-so thin that it would seem as if an extra blast from the brass -nozzled bellows must assuredly blow them away, while their spectacles shone like stray stars from some unheard-of constellation, and the veins stood out like whip-cord from their lean old hands.
 Uncle Feb Waterson and Aunt Ruey, his sister, were old batchelor and old maid. All their lives long they had been saving and scrimping and pinching, as if economy were the handspring of their existence. They never saw rcd apple with any appreciation of it's artistic beauty, they thought of it only as being worth so much barrel; the corn silked and tasseled out only as so much ''prime Indian-meal;" ;" the pink-and- white clover heads represented only pasturage value, and the star-eyed daisies were nothing more than ''pesky weeds, that no critter on airth would eat"
 And when, eight years ago, their half sister Nelly had run away-actually run away from four dollars month and her board-to marry black-eyed sailor lad die, Uncle Zeb and Aunt Ruey had wash ed their skinny hands of her altogether.
 Alas and alack-a-dav Love proved but fickle reed for Hal and Nelly Ar bush to lean on. The young sailor was lost on the first voyage out after his mar riage, and Nelly was left to support her child as best she might.
 It was an uneven battle between life's troubles and the poor young widow, and when Nelly died, the little girl was sent home to Spriggerdale, with pitiful let ter from the young mother whose sun had set so early.
 But Uncle Zeb and Aunt Ruey abso- lutely declined to receive Nell.
 
 ''She ain't nothin' to us," said Uncle Feb.
 'Iet her go to Hal Arbush's relations !'' said Aunt Ruey. s.Ehl he hadn't no re- lationsa We'll, ain't to blame for that, as know off
 "Yoa wouldn't let this child go on the town, said Mir. Jones, the express-agent, to whose care little Nell had been con signed as if she were brown-paper pack age.
 "Yes, I would!" said Uncle Feb.
 ''Why notl" said Aunt Ruey, bluntly.
 So Nell was taken, with her little bandbox full of clothes, to the town house.
 The matron looked puzzled-she had no charges so young as Nell-but she kissed the child, and gave her piece of ginger and some patchwork, and told her to be good girl.
 Nell played about until she was tired, and then came to the matron with wist- ful, upturned gaze.
 s'When am going home?" said she,
 ''This is home," said the matron.
 Nelrs lip quivered; her blue eyes swam in tears
 'I don't like it!" said she. 'T don't want to live here! Mamma said I was to go home at Easter!n
 "What does the child mean?, said the bewildered matron.
 Don't you know" said Nell. 'First comes Christmas-then Eastera And mamma said I was to go home at Easter "
 "We don't have Easters here-except now and again few colored eggs" said the good matron. ''This is home, my dear; so put all of that nonsense out of your head"
 But Nell cried, and refused to be com forted.
 ''Can l go and playi' said she, after a little while, with the tears yet on her lashes.
 ssYes-in the back yard, as much as you please" said the kindly matron
 'I don't like the back yard" said fas- tidious Nell. 'Tt's all full of brick-bats and tomato-cans, and broken bottles that won't hold anything. I want to go in the woods"
 'Well, don't go far, then," said the matron, who was busy mixing lime for the spring white-washing, and perhaps was little relieved to be rid of Nell's perpetual questionings.
 So away went little Nell, her white cambric sunbonnet futtering in the early April wind, down into the dells, where the first pallid violets were thrusting their purple heads up through layers ot moist, dead leaves, and tender fringe of green followed the course of the rivu. let, the happiest little lass that the sur ever shone on.
 '1 wish could stay here always, and iAe in cave, and eat berries and sassa f buds, and drink water from the brc3k p thought Nell. 'T don't want te go back to the town-house, where Uncle Tim makes faces at me, and old Mrs Hatch's hand shakes 90 that she spin, h&tse sn eyW tho tabls."