The Kenosha telegraph. [volume] (Kenosha, Wis.) 1860-1888, 1886-12-24
.TAKE THAT AND THATin

| summer sunset touching his sainted face as
with the pencil of an angel. Again, his
gentle voice thrilled my soul as in days
| gone by, and, in fancy, his loving fingers
were upon my head as we knelt side by side
| in prayer.
| No doubt he intended to prepare me for
| the shock that had almost crushed me, but
| the summons came suddenly, and while
| slept the angels carried him into Abraham's
| bosom.
| How long would have wept over my
| shattered life can not tell, had not Aunt
| Phillis' shrill voice called me back to duty.
''Take 'em WI tie dinity curtains down
| from the window, Elsie. Like as not the
master will spatter 'em with terbacker
| juice. Them college chaps is q wool
gatherin' set at best,n she said, with en-
phasis.
| obeyed her promptly, but my heart
ached for Master MELVILLE, who expected
| to find the comforts of his refined home IN
| this diminutive apartment that was devoid
| alike of ornament or convenience. What
| different welcome was my dear old father
| wont to give the stranger within his gate!
That same evening, as I was gathering
kindling for the morning fire, John came
suddenly upon me, and renewed his attack
of the morning.
$50, Miss Stuck-up, you are to be the
lady, and 1 the servant" he began. s'Real-
ly, feel proud of my smart cousin. How
fortunate to have your highness counted as
one of the family"
''Shame on you, boy, to thus torment
girl smaller than yourself"
1t was Master Newville's voice that
startled the young coward, causing him to
sneak around the kitchen out of sight.
After speaking a few kind words to me
my champion went into the house and up
the narrow stairs to his cherries room.
Johns taunt concerning my kinship
nerved me to action, and from that moment
| set my face fxedly towards gaining
point from which he would feel honored in
claiming me as one of the family. This
resolution accounted for the tallow dip burn
ing in my bare room long after even Master
MELVILLE had extinguished his light and
sought repose. Before had closed my eyes
that night I had marked out regular
course of study which was to occupy my
few spare hours. 1t seemed to me that l
had grown old in the last two weeks. [
could not realize that was the same happy
girl who had danced so merrily in and out
of the parsonage door so short time ago
IL COulu U1ly nave Sudld Will mdTSdT6u.
dear Margaret, who had taken me from the
arms of my dying mother, and cared for me
during all the fifteen years of my lifel She
would have chung to me faithfully had not
the death Of my father left her in her old
age as helpless and dependent as myself.
"Dear Margaret I will yet make home
for you, and we will eat the bread Of indie
pendence together" l cried, bitterly.
Strong in my determination to succeed,
I gathered my school-books from the bottom
of the old chest and took up the unfinished
lessons that my father had marked the day
before he died. Thanks to his thorough
method of instruction and the interesting
manner in which he strove to present the
great truths he taught, l was not only well
advanced for a girl of fifteen, but pos
sessed that inordinate love for books that
makes study a pleasure instead of a task
Much as l shall always despise John for
his cowardly treatment of friendless
orphan, l can not but feel grateful to him
for uttering the singing words that
aroused me from nv stony grief, and