The Bolivar bulletin. [volume] (Bolivar, Hardeman County, Tenn.) 1865-1888, 1886-03-19

painted a flaming red, was filled with
prOfusion of asparagus branches so as
10 deceive the unwary into the belief
that they were growing on their native
heath. A very old lady, whom I
recognized as the grandma of the
establishment, was already at the table
as we entered, and as soon as | was
seated, and the children were in their
places, the mistress of the house came
in with her hands full of smoking
dishes, followed by a young woman
with the teapot in her hand. I knew
without looking around that it was the
little sister, but though / was dying for
a glimpse of her, resOlutely kept my
face turned toward the old lady, who
had fallen to cross-questioning me the
moment she set eyes on my good
natured, but, l am sorry to confess,
weak-favOred countenance.
When, how ever, the conversation be
came more general, and less personal,
and the little sister had taken her place
opposite me, l considered that the most
stringent code of manners in the world
would not now forbid my taking a
good look at her. So, taking advantage
of the moment when she passed the
biscuit plate, and asked me with kindly
eutreaty to help myself, l looked her
squarely in the face. With all my
sanguine anticipatiOns, l was hardly
prepared for the mctamOrphOsis that
saw. Extreme neatness had taken the
place of the gross and offensive sloven-
illness Of that other time, and the look
Of coarse, sodden Indifference had given
way to an air of self-respect Her fine
brown hair, no longer in a tangled
frOwse about her face, was tGstefully
done up in a large coil at the back of
her head, while the dingy and discOl-
Ored complexion had Cegained a healthy
clearness, and the Iack-luster eyes q
brightness that was Transforming in
effect. I took her in from top to toe
in a couple of comprehensive chances.
Outwardly she was all | should have
asked for; a woman as God made her,
clothed and in her right mind. Hope
there was in her face, but not vet per-
feet peace-that must come with time,
and the help of the All-Healer. But a
wonderful change had come over her.
Old things had passed away; a new
day had dawned, and though there
were still clouds in the sky the sun was
shining bright behind them.
The conversation during supper ran
entirely upon the value of the recent
wheat harvest, the probable worth of
the coming corn crop, and country
matters in general. Not a hint of
course passed as to any former meeting,
but when we were in the sitting room
again, and after each child had given
me its shy little hand, and hidden me
a limp and scared goodnight, and had
then been marshaled of to bed by the
patient little sister, then, and not till
then, was the meaning of that Sunday
morning puzzle made entirely plain.
There was a pause Of few moments
when the children were gone. The
farmers wife sat close by the lamp,
busy with her needle, while the farmer
himself seemed to be deep in the fasci-
nations of a bulky volume of agricul-
tural reports. But as the last sound
Of voices died away he laid the book
aside, and propping, his chin on his
cIasped hands, said, as if taking
up the dropped threads of
previous conversation, Eyes,
owe YOU an explanation of that scene
in church that December morning. l
am glad | can explain it, for you and
every one who saw US must have
thought me either crazy or the biggest
scoundrel on the face of the earth.
The truth is Just this: / had been to
San Francisco, to the mines, all up
and down the Pacific coast, in fact,
searching for this sister of mine, who
had been gone nearly three years from
home, and of whose whereabouts we
could get only the vaguest rumOrs.
On my return home, after giving up
all hope of seeing her again, l was de-
layed over Sunday in your city, and
happening to pass the church in which
you saw me, just as the bells were
ringing for service, of all the people in
the world whom should | meet but my
poor sister, hopeless, degraded, but
apparently glad to see me.
.'When 1 told her how l had been
looking for her everywhere, and
begged her to 90 home with me that
father and mother might see her once
more before they died, she consented
on condition that l would 90 with her
into the church then and there, and
take her into the midst of the best
dressed people there. | asked her if
she meant what she said, and she said
she did. / took her at her word, but l
asked her if She wouldn't first 90 with
me to some place where l could get
her a better outfit than she had on.
She fired up terribly mt that, and said
that if / was ashamed of her as She
was that that was the end of it. She
would rather 90 to the bOttOmless pit
than home with me if that was how l
felt.
"Wel, I gave in to her whim as you
saw. but YOU could hardly have guessed
what great impression that beautiful
service had on the poor soul. At first
she was defiant of every thing and ev-
erybody; it was all a great joke, but
after a while she quoted down and be-
gan to listen seriously. The music
pleased her most. and when the choir
broke out into that last hymn or chant
of theirs, and the organ seemed to
carry everybody up into the sky, then
my little sister melted like ice in the
sun. and she laid her head right down
on the rail in front of her and cried
| like q child.
Il brought her home the next day,
and. She has been here ever since.
/ Father and mother lived long enough
/ to see that the change IN her was
real one. and they died happy after
much sorrow. OF course there was
/ long struggle, and it was sometimes
mighty hard for her to stick oher new
resolves. but it Is over now. thank
! God. She is one of the best and truest
of little women: my wife and she are
/ firm friends. the children love her, and
/ all goes well within and without now
that the house holds again the little
sister
sat by my chamber window that
summer night thinking, thinking. l
thought of human and divine law, and
4 i'm my punv way tried to strike balance
! between them. l thought of mysteries
of life and death. and of the soul of
man wandering like a star in the awful
/ spaces that separate them. Who
/ fashions the orbit of this soul? Who
sends it out on its journey through the