The enterprise. [volume] (Wellington, Ohio) 188?-1899, 1889-10-30
MARGERY.
How She Went Home at Last,
After Many Sad Experiences.

How She Went Home at Last,
After Many Sad Experiences.
The driver gave an extra flourish to his
whip as the stage drew .up before the inn
Of the little village In which / was 10 spend
the next year Of my life. ,iI. vy
How distinctly every incident Of that
evening comes up before mel It was my
first experience Of being among strangers,
and although our old doctors words; III
you persist in staying another year In this
climate Twill not answer for your life"
kept ringing in my ears would have given
every thing to be at home once more In my
native town.
The motherly looking landlady pressed o
kiss upon my tear-stained face and then
showed me my room-a cozy, old-fashioned
bedroom, such as would at any other time
have delighted my heart. The supper bell
rang, but 1t was impossible to eat with such
lump In ones throat so still stood NJ
the window gazing at the almostdeserted
street. otf Iat
The sun sent its last ray over the mount
ain, the drowsy tinkle Of the cow bells
echoed through the air, when suddenly my
attention was attracted by an unusual CON-
motion In the street below. A crowd Of
boys were following In the wake Of such
fantastic-loolhng creature. She was tall
and straight as an Indian, with great
masses OF black hair falling unconhned over
her shoulders Her clothing was such as
was commonly worn by the villagers, but
she walked with the air Of Princess, and
| Al..N 40. al ha da1
look OF weird magnihcence. On her head
was crown made Of the brilliant sumac
leaves, and brooch Of the mountain ash
berries famed at her throat.
As the crowd drew nearer q pathetic
voice could be heard above the laughing OF
the boys:
Don't make SO much noise, 1t hurts my
head, and can not hear IL he is coming.
Listen don't you hear the sound Of wheelsi
Surely, oh surely he will come soon."
There was something so sorrowful In the
voice that my eyes filed with tears, and all
my own troubles were forgotten when a
rap summoned me TO the door.
It was the landlady, bearing q tray on
which was spread SO dainty q supper that
the very sight revived me, and when she
said: "Come, child, you must eat some
thing II you mean to be mistress in our
old red school-house,n no second invi-
taton was necessary. She added with q
sigh: "The children nowadays are SO
ihoughtless. Did you see how they were
teasing the poor creature who passed herea
little while ago?n bl ll
Here was my opportunity, and my fork
was laid down preparatory 10 asking ques-
lions, when she seemed TO read my
thoughts, for she said, hastily: Eat your
supper before 1t becomes cold, and / will
tell you all about her.
"Poor Margery. She never seemed 70
have half chance in this world. Her
father was handsome, good-for-nothing
fellow, who spent his time between hunting
in the mountains and guzzling at the tavern,
so no one was surprised. when he was car
ried home one evening with great black
hole in his breast Perhaps should have
said no one but his wife, for, poor thingl
she never lost faith in HIM, but when she
saw that hope had gone, she loosened her
feeble grasp on life, kissed her black-eyed
baby and closed her eyes forever.
at was quite a question among US what
should be done with Margery, as we knew
nothing Of her relatives, but we all hated
10 send the pretty baby TO the poor-house.
Quite a number Of us finally agreed TO pay
a certain sum toward her support until she
reached an age when she could care for
herself, but we found 1t no easy task to find
O suitable person who was willing TO be
burdened with the care OF so small a child.
Mrs. Hart, a widow having several children
Of her own, finally agreed to take charge OF
her, aud we knew that she would be with
those who would at least be kind 10 her. AS
she grew older her mothers sensitive
nature showed itself, and the other children,
mistalSing this for feeling Of pride, did all
In their power 10 render the child's life
miserable.
"a shall never forget the look on her
| childish face, when, upon passing our house
one Of tho school children said, tauntingly:
| I'm sure I'd like 70 know what you've got
to be proud OF, you don't belong TO nobody,
and have no home Of your own.' The child
was called into the house and we did all
in our power 10 comfort her, but she kept
repeating: IT'S true, true; have no home,
nobody 10 love me, and can't see why God
ever iut me in this world
"Mrs. Hart died upon Margery's four
teenth birthday, and i was so set upon taxi
ing her home that my husband finally con-
sented. We did all in our power to make
her happy, and have her feel that our house
was really her home, but she would some
times say 10 me: You are good, the best
friend in the world, but some day mean 10
have home Of my very own, and will then
try TO repay all your kindness
"When she was sixteen the war broke
out, and our little village, being SO near the
border line, became the scene OF the wild
est excitement. II was wonderful what a
transformation the child's whole nature
seemed 10 undergo. She lost her timid,
shrinking disposition, and you can have no
idea Of her wonderful beauty ut that time.
Several Of the Northern regiments were
stationed near us, and II was not at all sur
prising that Colonel Marsden, q handsome
young officer from New Hampshire, spent
all his leisure time at our house. My hus-
band had Joined the Union army at the first
outbreak, and as an urgent call came for
! nurses IL seemed my duty 10 follow him
the only drawback was Margery. Upon
speaking To- oher about staying with my sis
ter until the close Of the war she answered
that they were 70 be married as soon as the
Colonel obtaiiied- q furlough, and were
10 have home Of their own among the New
Hampshireihillsa GJ on3 " mioii0I gll.
i ~ went 10 the front and heard 20 little o.
the happenings In our own valley that was
1 totally unpreb pared for The sad news tina,
awaited my feturn. i9uisa1 i9h1io a'p4'
/, tsUhonl ,rdtutmng A. was my expectaton
10, learn that Margery was halpsiy setueo