The Kenosha telegraph. [volume] (Kenosha, Wis.) 1860-1888, 1886-03-12

spacious home of Maria's childhood on
the favored side of Walnut street,
Philadelphia. The will Maria knew
would be al 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 mother S
legacy in a day or two; but full month
had passed away without the appear
ance of the conventional tin box from
the safe deposit.
at last, one Monday afternoon, when
Maria had returned from a 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 comei
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.
''No, John," she exclaimed, as the
bleaching white of the sense of emnus
took the place of the glow from the
excitement of shopping which was on
her cheeks as she entered the house
mo, John, this can not be. There
must be some mistake about it. NY
mother never would infiict such load
of care and responsibility upon one
whom she loved so much as she did me.
Let me see the will"
John handed his wife stiff piece of
parchment from the inner pocket of his
coat, and, spreading it out upon the
piano in the parlor, laid his finger upon
the following passage:
Il give and bequeath to my cousin
Amelia Burton Cranbrook, otherwise
known as Aunt Amelia, the interest on
the sum of thirty thousand dollars,
during her life, the money itself to be
given to my daughter Maria on the
death of the said Amelia Burton Gran
brook. And it is, moreover, my wish
and desire, as the condition upon
which the aforesaid sum shall descend
to my aforesaid daughter, Maria Tenn
pleton, that the aforesaid Amelia Bur-
ton Cranbrook shall live with said
daughter Maria, if the aforesaid Maria
occupies during her Lifetime my resi-
dence situated upon Walnut street, in
the city of Philadelphia"
You could move out, Maria, and 90
back again to your residence on South
Nineteenth street." said John. as he
watched the dazed look on his wife S
face; " but then you are so comforta-
bly, settled now that it would be pity
to take up the carpets one week after
they have been put down. Besides,
you would have to go, every few days,
to see your Aunt Amelia at her board
ing-house on Mount Vernon street.
All further conversation about the
will was interrupted by knock at the
drawing-room door
miss Amelia wants to know if
there is any more boiled milk for her
chocolateP" asked the waitress. 1.-THE
milk | took up before was scalded; and
she says, ma am, please not to forget her
belladonna pills, and the pepsin. And
one thing l most forgot. She wants
John to go up to her clearinghouse,
and fetch down her hot-water spine
bag. She left it behind when she packed
up her trunk"
Don't let me keep you, Maria"
said her husband. you have been
waiting for your mothers legacy-go
into the kitchen, my dear, and get it
some hot milk for its chocolate. /"
Amelia Cranbrook, Mrs. Pentreath
Jones cousin, otherwise known as
Aunt Amelia, had been an invalid from
her youth. The shawl and sofa were
her daily comp anions, and what had
once been her mind had now become a
mere registering machine, like the
clicking indicator of stocks on the end
less telegraphic slips of modern bro
ker's office. Her imagination furnished
the facts for this daily quotation of
physical stocks, and her retentive men,
DRY kept the books of this physical.
mental and moral firm, known az
Amelia Burton Cranbrook. There were
intricades in her will which stood in a
vital connection with certain mysteri-
Gus integuments of her liver. Her will
was a complicated knot of strange and
undecipherable inconsistencies, and was
the outward and visible sign of her in
ward and intricate nerves. With all
herphysical entanglements and nervous
complications, however, Miss Amelia
Burton Crapbrook held what she re-
Joiced to call, in religious parlance,
''clear views of truth. p"
She thought it no wrong to read open
letters, unperceived; to feign sleep or
illness or bodily 'infrmity, if thereby
she could have her own way without
blame or responsibility. Objectionable
newspapers disappeared from the IL
brary after the manner of the strange
disappearance of modern commercial
travellers. Novels, which upon inspec-
ton proved to be of dangerous tend
encies, frequently furnished cheerful
glow to her room from the open fire on
her hearth, and anticipated in their
condemned ashes the sepulchral meth
DDS of the modern crematory. To find
out the secrets of others, and never in
turn to be found out; to hinder the
coming and to speed the parting guest,
to hunt most zealously for '.baIancing
Providences" in the lives of Others
whereby the average happiness of hui
mainly might be reduced to her own
low level-were the indications of Aunt
Amelia's improved condition of health
which made her friends and compan-
ions submissive to Providence when
ever she was compelled to remain for
weeks in bed.
Il never can stand it, John: | never
can" sobbed Maria, as she returned
with the pitcher of scalded milk in her
hand for the invalid upstairs. II can
nor IN Ia ~