The Kenosha telegraph. [volume] (Kenosha, Wis.) 1860-1888, 1888-03-23
OLD AUNT NELLIE.
How I Mistook Her for My Moth
er-in-Law.

Our new home was not large, for
Charlie was not a rich man, although
he was in fourishing business; but it
was one of those regularly-shaped
houses that toss out a tiny balcony here
and a bay window there, in careless,
childish fashion. better suited to hap
Ply, quiet home life than to more GER
emonious style of existence. The lit
tie piazza was heavily hung with wood
bine, with now and then a red leaf, for
it was September, and there had been
an early touch of frost. / had gradu-
ated in June, and q month later had
been our wedding. Then, after some
quiet weeks at the seaside, we had
come to our own home.
"Do you think you can be happy
hereP Charlie asked.
al should be an ungrateful wretch
If | were not" | said, ''for it is the
loyeliest little house ever saw, and l
am perfectly delighted with it." Re-
member that was only q schoolgirl,
and excuse my superlatives.
We were sitting on the piazza, and
Charlie called my attention to the great
elms in front of the house.
asylum street is the pleasantest
street in the city," he said. at is
lined with these elms from Main street.
past the asylum for the insane, two
streets from here, and away out into
the country"
L said nothing, but my heart fell.
From my earliest childhood / had felt
an instructive unreasoning horror of
insanity, although | had never seen an
insane person. had heard, of course,
that the State asylum was here, but |
had never supposed that it was within
the city limits, but Charlie was speak
ing.
"Should you like to walk up the
street and see the asylum grounds"
We went up the wide, pleasant street
with its rows of elms and NAPLES, till
we came to some broad, well-kept
grounds with hills and valleys and
trees, and glimpses of a foaming brook
that dashed over rocks and under tiny
bridges. 1t was beautiful place, but
little further on was the great brick
building with its iron barred windows.
and as pale face behind them pressed
close to the glass, 1 shuddered.
You are cold" said Charlie.
"These September evenings are COOL.
Sowe went home, and when the gas was
lighted, and the doors shut, and q tiny
fire in the open CRATE, it seemed absurd
to be afraid of some feeble folk behind
those iron bars. But the next morn
ing, when Charlie had gone to his
office, and Bridget and were alone in
the house, the old fear came back.
knew that it was foolish, and never
told Charlie, but kept q careful watch
over doors and windows, which he said
was a fine thing in these days of tramps
One forenoon, Charlie came home il
great haste, and asked if should be
afraid to stay alone two or three
days. A large business interest was
at stake, and he must take the noon
train for New York.
81 will have frank come up here
and stay at night" he said. Frank
was young cousin of his. "And if il
were not for mothers coming, yor
might 60 with me; but she is quite al
old lady, you know, and it woulG
trouble her to change the day of hel
journey, when she has once arranged
for it. Are you quite sure that you dc
not mind receiving her alone? | vii
telegraph her if you wish it" But
could hardly be as selfish as that, ant
in an excess of bravery, even refused
to have Frank come at night.
Charles mother was coming thai
evening. l had never seen her, for oul
engagement had been short one, and
she had spent the last two years il
California with married daughter
but she had written me many times
and felt as if in her should find the
mothers love and care which / had Sc
sorely missed since the death of my
own mother, five years before. So
went about the house trying to make
every room take on an especially
bright and CHEEKY aspect.
did not 90 to the train to meet her.
- Charlie had fancy that a lady
never 60 to railroad station
IS necessary, and he had ar
,rrk to meet her anC