Smyrna times., 1889-11-20
She Was Loved by All.
STORY OF A sELF-sACRIFICING MAIDEN
OF CALIFORNIA.
Annie Won their Hearts.

knew her-yearS that have brought
changes for good and for i'll, but my
| acquaintance with Annie, that sweet,
true, wOmanly woman whose life his
tory always seemed to me but the re-
cital of beautiful poem, is sill one of
my most cherished memories. 1t was
IN that new, strange country of the
grand Pacific coast, that l first met her
| and IN that most desOlate of regions,
the middle California wheat district,
where the ranches seem to be but
dreary wastes, with little GASES for hab-
itatiOns in the centre, and where the
| people seem to have that Indifference
to others that comes of a hard strug-
gle for existence and isolation from
friends, so that the beauty of her char
acter stands out all the more clearly
against its background of cOldness.
They were all very glad to see me,
of course, at uncle's, and there were
hundreds of questions about the old
home ina they had not seen for so
long, but think / hdG hardly been in
the house an hour before l heard OF
Annie.
Annie sent me this jelly today"
said Aunt En- as we sat down to the
supper she had prepared for me, and
which was very refreshing after nv
long ride. "She has more preserves
than anybody in the neighborhood.
and nicer ones, too. | think"
What a pretty dress you have on,
Marcia, said l, as we left the table and
my tall, slim cousin, whom l had not
seen for years, not since we were both
barefoot children, showed me into the
little sitting room.
"DO you like it?" she asked. AN
ME selected it and helped me to make
it,"
"lf you are fond of reading" said
Uncle Mark, you will not get lonely
away out here in our Western wilds.
You see, we have good many books
on our little shelves. Most of them
Annie sent over when l was i'll for so
many months. Annie's is the only H.
brary this side of Stockton, [ reckon. y
Il saw Annie, this morning, mother"
said Bob when he came in from the
barn, ''aud she said she would come
over in few days to see cousin"
l had other visitors, though, before
Annie. The first was old Mrs. Kear-
ney, who lived on the next ranch .
She was thoroughly Irish to the back
bone, and had not forgotten to kiss the
Blarney stone before she left the "ould
cOunthrie."
After surveying me from head to
foot
Faith, an she's a foino gel. yer
niece is" she said to Aunt En- "a
foine gel, shure. Most es foine es
Annie deed an she is"
felt then, and afterwards came to
know, that she was paying me the
highest compliment in her power.
Mrs. McCarty, from across the river.
was my next visitor. She looked at
the clock when she first came in that
she might know what time to leave.
My clock Is out of order" she said
"McCarty has been working on it, but
1t doesn't seem to be much improved" !"
why dOn'tyOu take it in town and
and have it repaired ?" asked Aunt
En-.
II am going to, she answered. An.
nie was telling me yesterday to take
1t in. She says it'll be best TO leave it
a few days at the jewelers. so | guess
III send 1t in Saturday when McCarty
goes for the mail and let it stay till
next week. Annie said she'd lend me
one OF those little round twenty-four
hour clocks till get mine"
When / saw the school teacher of the
neighborhood-a little, thiu-faced, keen
voiced woman, just verging into old
maidenhOod-I thought from her man
ner and general appearance that she,
at least, would not bow down and
worship Annie, concerning whom had
heard so much. But l was mistaken,
Are you going to have your concert
next week, Miss Higdon?" Aunt EN-
asked.
':NO," she answered; 81 shall not
have it till harvest is over. Annie saws
| had better wait. The men are all so
busy now during the day that they are
too tired to enjoy a concert when
night comes"
Aunt Ems pastor, the quiet little
shepherd who tended a flock which
strayed all the way between Oakdale
and Knights Ferry, came to call the
next day. 1t was easy to see that
Annie" was his very right hand. He
spoke of no church work, no mission
OF charity, no deed of goodness that he
did not mention Annie" as the NOV
ing spirit.
So l had gotten my curiosity whet-
ted to the very highest pitch before
ever saw Annie. l shall never forget
my first meeting with her, how her
presence seemed to light up the little
room, how her low, sweet voice seemed
t. fill it aud make it appear, as it had
never done before, bright and cosy and
cheerful.
She must have been about twenty
eight then > but she had one of those
sweet grave faces that, without being
old, or even sad, seemed never to have
been quite young. Her hair was
brown, fine and smooth and soft, her
eyes were gray, large and beautiful.
She spoke always with a gentleness,
whose very tone was helpful. Then.
even before knew her, l could well
fancy what ministering angel she
would be in house of sorrow and of
suffering. l feel thankful for every
meeting that l ever had with her: 1
feel that at each one she added some
thing to the pleasure of my life. l feel
that the sweet, gentle radiance of her
life shone out and lighted up my path.
way, that had been dark enough at
times to my blinded eyes.
used to feel grateful for every oppor.
tunity that had to see her in her own
home, where the beauty of her life
made all so cheerful, so restful, so
happy. Her neat room, with its little
rag carpet, her rows of shelves with
their weight of books, the three or
four pictures on the walls, the vases
filled with flowers, which seemed never
to wither-each and every one is dear
to me now, so much part of her they
seemed. 1t was one of my chiefest
pleasures to study her, to go with her
from house to house throughout the
n9ighbOrhOod and see how she carried
happiness and comfort wherever she
went.
have seen the men in the harvest
fields stop their work to take off their
hats and hear her pleasant greeting
have seen tired. sad faced women
quieted and rested by her words; I
have seen eager children holding up
their little bright faces for her ready
caress. think in all that country, for
miles around, there was not one home
that had not been gladdened by her
kindness, not one sad heart that did
not feel its burden lifted by her COM