The Milan exchange. (Milan, Gibson County, Tenn.) 1874-1978, 1886-09-18

expected, was no paragon OF perIectlOn, |
but she was obviously improbable, than
which few better things can be said Of
any human being. Not only good tenn
per, but a little more earnesmess of
aim, a little more delicacy Of feeling,
and greater warmth of affection dstin-
guished her from her sisters, Aunt
Dorothy took her home to her large
heart and believed in her, and Laura
was, half-unconsciously, already the
better from this sojoarning of their aunt
among them. She came into the room
soon after her sisters departure, and
was asked the same questions given be-
fore.
1T was an old Mr.. Picardy, who
lives few miles of, and had not been
in the town for ages. He has driven in
an open carriage up Friat's hill"
''Ihen he must return this Way?"
said Aunt Dorothy.
Eyes, suppose So"
Humming a tune, Laura went on
rummaging a distant table-drawer for
something that she wanted-things do
mislay themselves in a thoroughly I'M
tidy house.
Laura" said her aunt, "come here,
my dear. l used to know this Mr.. Pr
cary, formerly, and should much like to
see him passing back. Do you think,
without saying any thing to any one,
you could manage to wheel me in my
chair into the drawing-room?'
1t was on the tip of Laura's tongue to
raise objections. Aunt Dorothy kept
entirely in her own rooms, and it would
be quite. an innovation to establish her
in the drawing-room. But she just
looked at her aunt's face and saw there
so much eagerneSs and usefulness that
something stirred her heart.
She was almost surprised at herself
for the alacrity with which she said:
Certainly, Aunty. Let us try
"The drawing-room door is of course
wider than this" said Aunt Dorothy,
$50 we need take no measurements. Go,
my dear, and clear away the mats in
the way, and see that there is room
made in the best window for seeing from,
and close the folding doors. Be quick,
or somebody will come, "
Even in old age, Aunt Dorothy clear
brain could fOresee difficulties and pro-
vide against them, so that her niece had
nothing to do but obey her orders, There
is a certain pleasure in following distinct
directions, even if given in rather a
peremptory way-as these were. Aunt
Dorothy did not shilly-shally" to the
end she was no Gimp" person, even
yet, when any thing was to be done,
and these are always the best captains
in war or out of it.
With look,of strange excitement on
her face, she waited Laura's return.
Almost in a dream she heard her niece S
voice saying: "Now, the coast is clear, "
and answered she was ready, with a
| singular feeling of talking in her sleep.
Carefully through the first door, care
| fully through the second, with little
| difficulty about the turn, was the chair
propelled. Easily then, along the
smooth carpet to the window, under
meath which the carriage, of necessity,
must pass.
Thank you, dear child He was a
very dear friend in times gone by. Now
l leave lllt, Sdlu huub DOlObllN' II
any one comes they must be shown to
the inner room. wish to be alone"
And Laura went away with a suspi-
cion of the truth that made her smile a
little half-sadly, then sigh, and signing,
think: I'VE shall all be old some day.
Meanwhile Aunt Dorothy looked out
of her window, which faced one of the
principal hotels and commanded a long
stretch of street, winding up towards
Friar'S hill. No carriage was in sight.
1t was the other window of the room
that had the sea-view, but to the right
of the houses a pretty piece of country
was seen, where "heaths, starred with
broom mingled their gold with the
sunset rays that poured on them from
the opposite horizon towards which the
sun was declining.
Aunt Dorothy did not see it just then
She leaned back in her wheel-chair, anC
covered her eyes with her hands. 4
half-smile-but it was very sad one
much sadder than any tears could have
been-was on her lips, and she said il
an undertone:
81 am again for Cydnus, to NEE
Mark Antony
Then came silence.-She was no
an old woman any longer. Oh
mol 1t was all mistake that she wa
crippled and helpless, that life and it
abundant opportunities had drifted int,
the past, and she was only a great-aun
without any nearer ties to bind her
, Young, strong and straight-alas wha
words are those to whom the realitie
| are gone by for eyer.-but ,traight, an,
, strong and young she stood, once more
t in fancy. Was she twenty-three, 0
r twenty-four, or twenty-fve?-No matter
, now one, and now the other. She wa
= Dorothy Fielding, with life stretching
out before her, fair, as if glistening wit
| the sheen of early morning, and breath
: ing promises to her that surely nOthln
= could belle. Within her stirred
{ Impatient wishes that besieged the SIX
Nor disbelief of any miracle, save that life
longings and its hopes could die"
She was Dorothy Fielding, full of love
r hope, and a thousand fulhlments thai
= half unrecOgniZed. came lavishing thei