St. Landry democrat., 1891-08-29
AUNT MEREDITH,


Meredth's room watch her with half
closed eyes as she draws her low chain
before the fire, and takes her knitting
from the work-basket at her side. She
is always busy, it seems to me, and when
L think OF It, we six are enough to make
work constant with her.
First, there is Uncle Clay, Aunt Mere
dith's brother, full of hobbies that re-
CURE her constant attention.
eff can only prove its worthlessness
before he mounts it, I can save him &
good deal OF trouble" she says, when a
new hobby is presented; and often she
succeeds.
And there is Robert. just starting ont
fox himself under Aunt Meredith
special guidance. There is Frank,
another nephew, generous and impulsive,
"a regular tinderbox in temper, with
May, his sister, always ready, in hel
love for teasing, to put the match to the
finder box.
And there is Richard-happy, rollick.
ing Richard, of whom Aunt Meredith is
never quite sure until she has herself
tucked him in bed and sung him to
sleep.
Then mere am I; a cripple, dependent
upon Aunt Meredith for every ray of sun
shine that has crept into my poor
manned existence since the day / opened
my eyes to the life which, but for her,
might indeed have proved curse to me.
SO there are six of us, all under her
care.
She thinks I am asleep, or else she
would not have spoken of that fatal
mistake which affected the current of 50
many lives.
The freight plays upon her needles as
she patiently plies them. The blaze
rises higher, and forms, as she sits out
lined against it, a sort of halo about her
gray head.
She is thinking of the past, know,
and that mistake while she sits there
waiting.
Robert is doing some extra book-keep-
ing, and will not be in until ten o'clock.
May and Frank are busy with their les
sons in the sitting room. Uncle CLAY
rode over to Richland to-day, and did
not return until late. Richard is asleep,
for heard Aunt Meredith singing Crock
of Ages" in the boys room more than
half an hour before she went down to
give Uncle Clay his supper.
While she sits waiting for the last one
Of the household to come in, am living
here thinking over that mistake she
made.
Indeed, often think of it. We Grip
pies have so little else to do except to
study books and people, and all these
tedious years have studied her until I
think | know her great soul by heart.
And [ know all about that "sad mis-
take" although she does not dream that
it is known to me. If | were to tell her
that | learned from her own lips to call
it ''mistake," am sure that she would
think the atfiiction that has dwarfed and
tortured my body for almost forty years
has attacked my mind as well, for she
does not really look upon it as blunder.
If she ever allows herself to think of
it rs such, it is only when she is troubled
and tired, and her thoughts go crowding
back, to fasten themselves upon the
brightest spot in the past.
Such moments come to the brayest
md best of us. But heard Aunt Mere
18th tell Uncle Clay only last night that
there can be no blunders in Gods
olan;" and if she can stand up so
5randly amid the ruins of youths prom
SEES and testify to the perfection of the |
,ternal plan, few indeed have the right
o sit in judgment on it.
feel the warm tears trickling down
ny cheeks as | watch the figure in the
freight. can remeAber the day when
his white haired woman, knitting stock
ngs in the chimney corner, was the mer-
lest gill in our village.
"And the handsomest one," people
aid. "And the best one" John East
nan declared, when he asked her to be
is wife. "And the happiest one," I
card her tell herself when John was
one, and with him her pledge.
was d Clliiet tucu, UuG L leii6lnDeF IL.
am child now, for that matter;
hid in body, man in years; but re-
lcmber it all as plainly as if it had
cen yesterday. ! think we crippled
nes have keener memories than those
Tho share the minds work with the
ody.
Aunt Meredith was an orphan, aud
ad been reared and cared for by my
iother, her only sister, and Uncle
Gorge, her Oldest brother.
The brother and sister tenderly dis
1arged their duty toward her, and Aunt
eredith, always conscientious, felt that
4 immense debt was accommodating
5alist her; so that, when my dying ,
other placed my hand in hers, and with !
sr last breath said, Gas have dealt ,
It'll you, Merry" there was but one ,
ling for Aunt Meredith to do. She ac !
;pted the charge of the little cripple
,mmitted to her care. :
She was young then-just twenty Il
ID was soon to have been John East ,
ans wife. When she had accepted the J
" charge she sent for her lover to tell
N that ths the marriage must be !
,stponed. |
He protested, but Aunt Merry was
m. dust one year, John, ]" she in,
,tea. linen we shall be better pre-
red to accept the Dew-charge. Z
She would not say ..burdel,' but ] .
10 . burden to lay upon her young