St. Johnsbury Caledonian. [volume] (St. Johnsbury, Vt.) 1867-1919, 1891-09-17
MISCELLANY.
AS 1T WAS TOLD TO ME-.

1t was my aunt Lena Wilson who
told me the story, when we were
looking over book of photographs.
There was one that did not admire,
commenting upon it after this
fashion:
That is a good face. auntie-a
noble face; but what stiff, horrid
picturel'
1T is taken from an oil painting,
dear, not from life, and it is the pic
I ture of the best friend l ever had
the noblest, most generous man l
ever knew"
| waited quietly till my aunt
z wiped away the tears that filled her
ewes. wondering at her emotion.
i The portrait was not that of my
j uncle Jotn Wilson, for it was entirely
unlike the one that hung upon the
wall in the large dra wingroom.
But knew very little of these rela-
tives of mine, although my mother
was uncle John Wilson's sister, for
my parents lived in France until |
was seventeen years old, when | was
orphaned and came to share my
aunt Lena S home, with seven chill
j dren Of her own, who gave me cor
4 dial welcome, and made me one of
A the family in the kindest, truest
sense of the words.
But it was to aunt Lena herself
that | chung in those early days of
desolation, and my own mother
could not have been more gentle
and loving to me. She looked at me,
when her tears were dried, with her
sweet smile, and said
Shall | tell YOU the story, DEAR"
"Oh, yes'' l cried "If"-thinking
Z of the tears-''if it does not make
you feel badly"
mo, dear; no. Where shall l be-
gin? l think it must be when | was
little girl, only ten years old, and
lost my father. Long years before,
nv mother had died, and l had been
my fathers idol, his companion,
pupil and playfellow, so that the
world looked very empty to me after
he was taken away. His dearest
friend for many years had been an
old schoolmate, Stephen Hethering
ton. and his friend took me, after the
funeral, to boarding-school, where
l was entered as his ward. | was
too young then to ask questions
about my own prospects, and did
not know that l had absolutely
nothing, but was indebted to my
guardian for the clothes | wore and
I the food | ate. He came to see me
very often, and loved him as l had
loved my own father, with child's
devotion, a reverence and affection
that | had never expected to feel
again. He was man under thirty
when he became my guardian, but
to my childish ideas he seemed quite
advanced in life, and the feeling of
his superiority in age, as we'll as in
everything else, never quite left me.
We were strangely alike in one re-
spect, man and child, in having no
near relatives, and it was natural
that we should cling to each other
more than we might have done had
there been others to claim a portion
of our love. I wish | could tell YOU
anything that could convey to you
any true idea of Stephen Hethering-
ton. He was not very handsome,
but he had a face to win perfect
trust. There was nothing small
about him. All his thoughts were
broad, liberal, noble, his generosity
unbounded, his courtesy perfect
When l was nineteen he took me
from school and found me home in
the family of some old friends, the
Wilson's, who consented to take
care of me. He sent me quarterly
allowance that | believed to be
money lett by my father, but which,
MANY years later, l knew was pro-
vided by my guardians generosity.
was very happy with the Will
sons. Your mother was about my
own age, and we were soon like Sis /
tiers in our love for each other, while /
John was my lover, dear, before |
had been a week in his mothers /
house. [ was still very young, just
from school, and John was twenty /
two-a boy still in heart, and ready /
for any frolic his sister or | suggested. /
1t was all sunshine for a year, and | /
never guessed that | was making
desOlate a heart that was all my (
own, giving bitterest pain where |
had received only kindness. | never
guessed it, for l loved Stephen Heth-
ertOn with the same warm affection /
my childish heart had given him so
long, and realized nothing of the
higher love he was trying to win,
and which | gave to John Wilson.
Child, child, | did not understand at
all the set, stern face my guardian
wore when he gave his consent to
nv marriage, nor why he left us so
soon afterward, settling upon me +
the sum from which my allowance
had been drawn.
When you are older, dear, you
shall read some pages in the diary
that was Stephen Hetherington
last sad legacy to me, closely written
volumes that were the companion
and solace of his bitterly lonely life.
And you will see how mans own
noble heart can elevate its love
dream, and raise a merely pretty
girl to a place scarcely lower than