St. Tammany farmer. [volume] (Covington, La.) 1874-current, 1886-02-27
ONLY HOPE"
Why the E.ue-Eyed Little Lady
Was Christened "Our Hope"

III,
said she was a poor little thing ant
could never amount to much. As tc
whether they meant much in regard
to flesh and blood. or the size anC
amount of brains, was not explained
but they said it with pitying faces and
low voices, and mourned with the moth
er that the child was so insignificant.
Why they named her Hope, is quite
as hard to tell, unless in the small en-.
deaTor to make her hopeful in some
way.
She was little, and weak. and gentle;
no one asked for her opinion in regard
to anything; no one took it if it was
given. She was just little Hope to
her mother and father and half dozen
brothers and sisters-sweetly pretty,
with eyes like bits of the skieS-deep,
unfathomable-hair like the soft, vel
low silk OF the corn swaying down in
the meadows, clear, delicate COM
plexion. and gentle smile that suited
We'll her Wee round figure and tiny
hands.
Her big. broad-shouldered brothers
laughed at and teased her; her tall,
graceful sisters snuhbed her unceas-
iDgly.
She was ''only Hope" to them all.
From childhood she grew to girlhood.
standing with reluctant feet.
Where the brook and river meet
Womanhood and childhood sweet"
a. lnn,o fhay frora la,. ~, ,,~,z,,
r'@ible. and left her to her own devices.
All those small. apparently useless
things that slip into the days occupa-
ton Of large household fell to Hope.
Up and down stairs went her tireless
feet. performing those duties which
Gone of the others would do. as bein.
too mean and trivial for their notice,
Vet without which the household wheel
could not have gone round. If there
was catch in the wheel, or the hubs
were loose. it was Howe alone who
could mend and oil the machinery.
Her fingers We're the ones that cauch.
mp the dropped stitches in her mothers
knitting: her quaint little ballads were
the music which soothed her fathers
heart; her soft words healed many a
quarrel between aer brothers. even as
her needle meEGad the rents in their
clothes. Still, to herself. rs well as to
ti1em, she was ''onlF Hope" of little
account, and less use in the bic. wide
world
Her brothers and sisters married, one
after the other; the oldest sister witt,
her husband and children came to live
at The old homestead. and Hope lived
on there, too. without anv desire to
marry or change her lot. She was
quite contented: of little use. perhaps.
but then it was homc-they all knew
her, she did not have to explain that
she knew almost nothing. was not wise
m any way. Yet her brothers and
sisters children seemed to find no one
in whom they confided as in her. even
while they, too, fell in with the general
custom, and called her .only Aunt
Hope, sS
Time passed on. swinging his scvthe
and. 10, in his path rose war. loosening
the lash from his hounds, In place of
the church-bells thu~iered the cannon.
while dense smoke hung, fog-like. over
the hills that echoed back the ringing
of steel on steel. the snorts of the horses.
the shouting of men!
Hopes brothers went out from the
corn-fieids and laid down the plow for
the sword. There were wet eyes and
sad hearts at the homestead, but the
country called out for her sons. and
these broad-shouldered laddies must 60.
and the wives and daughters. the moth |
ers and sisters, smiled bravely through |
all their tears.
Hope grew daily silent and thought
ful. her blue eyes wide and wistful
What ails you, child?" asked her
mother one day. as they all sat ont on
The shady piazza, busily plying the
shining needles through the bands of
linen that were to go as bandages to
the wounded soldiers far away
Nothing. mother" answered Hope,
smiling rs she turned down a hem and
went on sewing.
but something does all you," said
Mrs. harris, her aged eyes searching
eagerly the fair young face. "You are
always quiet, Hope, but lately, stone
could hardly be duller than YOU
.'1ou don't play with us or tell us
stories either. Aunt Hope" chimed in
} childish voice at her knee. ..an.I