The Republican. [volume] (Oakland, Md.) 1877-current, 1886-01-23
JNLY ffurz.
Why the Blue-Eyed Little Lady
\ Was Christened Our Hope"

When Hope Harris was born, they
said she was poor little thing and
could never amount to much. AS to
whether they meant "much" in regard
TO flesh and blood, or the size and
amount of brains, was not explained;
but they said it with plying faces and
Cow 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-
deavor 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-hai like the soft, vel
low silk of the corn swaying down in
the meadows, clear, delicate COM
plexion, and gentle smile that suited
well her wee round figure and tiny
hands.
Her big, broad-shouldered brothers
laughed at and leased her; her tall,
graceful sisters snubbed her unceas-
ingly.
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"
At home they gave her up as incor-
rigible, and left her to her own devices.
All those small. apparently useless
things that slip into the days occupa-
ton OF lags;ca hoGsSo..ol o Hope.
Up and down stairs went tireless
feet, performing those duties which
none of the others would do, as being
too mean and trivial for their notice,
yet without which the household wheel
could not have gone round. If there
was catch in the wheel, or the hubs
were loose, it was Hope alone who
could mend and oil the machinery.
Her fingers were the ones that caught
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 her brothers, even as
her needle mended the rents in their
clothes. Still, to herself, as well as to
them, she was "only Hope" of little
account, and less use in the big, wide
world.
Her brothers and sisters married, one
after the other; the oldest sister with
her husband and children came to live
at the old homestead, and Hope lived
on there, too, without any desire to
marry or change her lot She was
quite contented; of little use, perhaps,
but then it was hOme-they all knew
her, she did not have to explain that
she knew almost nothing, was not wise
in any way. Yet her brothers and
sisters children seemed to find no one
in whom they confded as in her, even
while they, too, fell in with the general
custom, and called her "only Aunt
Hope"
Time passed on, swinging his scythe
and, 10, in his path rose war, loosening
the lash from his hounds! In place OF
the church-bells Numbered 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-fields and laid down the pillow 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 90
and the wives and daughters, the moth
ers and sisters, smiled bravely through
all their tears.
Hope grew daily silent and thought
full, her blue eyes wide and wistful.
"What ais you, childp" asked hel
mother one day, as they all sat out OF
the shady piazza, busily plying the
shining needles through the bands o
linen that were to 90 as bandages Il
the wounded soldiers far away.
Nothing, mother" answered Hope
smiling as she turned down a hem anC
went on sewing.
"But something does all you," sale
Mrs. Harris, her aged eyes searching
eagerly the fair young face. "You ar,
always quiet, Hope, but lately, stont
could hardly be duller than you"
"You don't play with us or tell IL
stories either, Aunt Hope" chimed il
childish voice at her knee, "an'
went to your room last night cause
couldn't sleep, an there you was at tn
window looking out, so l went back t,
bed an didn't 'sturb you, Aunt Hope.
"Are you at last in love, HopeP'
asked one of her sisters, laughing.
mo" said Hope, simply. Then sh
sat silent awhile,
When she spoke again, her blue eye
were looking across the wheat fields +
the distant line of hills.