Macon beacon. [volume] (Macon, Miss.) 1859-1995, 1890-09-27

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while the bride planted a young tree,
and the guests looked for four-leaved
| clovers, she had found Observation-Disclosures
by accident or design she could not lell
on the grass beside Larry; their fin
gers met over the same lucky clover,
their eyes met above it, and for an in
slant she had it on her tongues end to
confess all about the drive and its re-
suit, to put pride in her pocket, but just
then Nell Amory called to Larry.
"Oh, a horrid spider!-on my arm,
Larry! Kill him, quick-do! Oh-oh-
oh! l shall die-I shall faint" and that
was the end OF it.
The old orchard, with it's fragrant
ounce bushes, it's gnarled apple trees,
its four-leaved c~lovers, was a thing of
the past; a cotton-mill roared and thun-
dered there all day long where the
birds built and the trees bourgeoned
thirty odd years ago. 1t no longer
blossomed, except in Miss Becky's men,
Org, She had turned her thoughts to
raising plants when she was left to her
own resources, but one cruel winters
night killed all her slips and the cap
ital was lacking by which she might re-
new her stock. Since then she had
gone out for daily sewing, had watched
with the sick, had been in demand for
temporary ~housekeeper whenever a
tired matron wished an outing; but lat
terly her eyes no longer served her for
fine work, and sewing-machines had
been introduced; she was not so alert
in the sick-room as of yore; she moved
more slowly and her housekeeping
talent was no longer. in request; added
to this, the bank where her little earn
ings had been growing one day failed
and left her high and dry. Some
of her friends had travelled to
pastures new, some had married
away, some had ignored and for
gotten her. AS for Larry Rogers,
he had been away from Plymouth
this many year. Somebody
had sent him abroad the year after Lucy
Amory's marriage, todevelope his musi-
cal genius. He had grown into a ia
nous violinist, playing all over the
country to crowded houses, before the
finest people in the land. 1t was a
beautiful romance to Miss Becky to
read in the Plymouth Record about II
gifted townsman;" she seemed to hear
the echo of his violin when the wind
swept through the pine boughs. She
had no bitter thoughts; she did not
blame him because she sat in shadow,
because her life had been colorless. She
sang again the old tunes he had taught
her, and made a little sunshine in her
heart. All of happiness she had ever
known he had brought her. Why
should she complain? And now she was
going to the 'Old Ladies' Home"
at ism t exactly what expected in
my youth" she said to the old doctors
widow.
mo; but you'll have a nice room and
a bright fire, and the ~neighbors will
drop in to see you and make it seem
home-like. Now, there's old Mrs. Gum;
nothing can persuade her to go to the
Home. She says it's only a genteel
almshouse after all; and so she rubs
along with what little she can earn and
what the neighbors have a mind to send
in; and they have to do it nightly gin
gerly, too, just as if they were asking a
favor of her. Lor'! she doesn't earn her
salt"
81 dare say" returned Miss Becky.
Nov, If it hadn't been for the rheuma-
tism could earn my living for years
yet, and, may be, get something ahead
again. But it seems as if the rheuma-
tism laid in wait for the poor and
friendless."
"You ought to have married when
you were young, Becky" said the
doctors widow, who had forgotten all
about Becky's love affair, and labored
under the impression that she had
never had q chance-an impression
which matrons are apt to entertain con
corning their single friends. Miss
Becky had been spending some weeks
with Mrs. Doctor Dwight, who had
moved away from Plymouth after her
husbands death. She was there chiefly
to put some stitches into the widows
wardrobe, which nobody else would do
so reasonably" that lady's grief hav-
ing incapacitated her for holding a
needle, or giving her mind to the ma.
terial details of seam and gusset and
band" But during the visit Miss
Becky had been seized with her sharp
est attack Of rheumatism, which had
kept her In bed for weeks, till her
wages were exhausted by drugs and
doctors fees. 1t was at this time that
she made up her mind to 20 into the
Home on her return to Plymouth.
Mrs, Dwight saw her of at the sta
ton. 81 hope ysull find the home
cozy," she said, outside the car-window.
"It's lucky Parson Amory left you that
hundred dollars, after all. He might
have doubled it."
"Yes, ! suppose 3d." Miss Becky an.
swered, meekly. Perhaps she was think.
ing that if she were Mrs. Dwight no old
friend OF hers should 60 begging for q
refuge at an alms-house door, we're il
ever so genteel an alms-house, Perhaps
she was thinking Of the pretty, com
Portable home waiting for her friend,
and wondering why their fortunes were
: so unlike.
Write when you reach Plymouth and
let me know how you're suited" caid
Mrs Dwight, and just then the cars
! gave a lurch and left her behind, and
Miss Becky turned her glance inward.
Somebody had taken the seat beside
her.
Your friend vas speaking Of Parsor
: Amory, OF plymouth" said he. e!
conldn't help hearing. l was born il
Plymouth myself, but l haven't met
3 soul from there these twenty years. In
on my way down to look up my oil
{ friends"
Twenty years Is . long time" an
swered Becky. 'l'm afraid you won
: find many Of your friends left. You'll
hardly know Plymouth"
II suppose not suppose not Hav,
3 you lived there long,"
"Ip have lived there al ny DAYS.
GOOD! am hungry for news Of tn
o people. Tell me every thing you Cal
think of. Did Parson Amory leave
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