Sullivan republican. [volume] (Laporte, Pa.) 1883-1896, 1891-08-07
AUNT MEREDITH.

"That was the saddcst mistake ever
made"
From my lounge in the corner of Aunt
Meredith's room watch her with half
closed eyes rs she draws her low chair
before the fire, and takes her knitting
from the work basket at her side. She
Is always busy, it seems to me, and when
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-
9uire her constant attention.
''1f | can only prove its worthlessness
before he mounts it, | can save him u
good deal of trouble" she says, when
new hobby Is presented; and often she
succeeds.
And there is Robert, just starting out
for himself under Aunt Meredith S
special guidance. There is Frauk,
another nephew, generous and impulsive,
"a regular tinder-box in temper, with
May, his sister, always ready, in her
love for teasing, to put the match to the
tinder- 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 here am l 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 l am asleep, or else she
would not have spoken of that fatal
mistake which affected the current of so
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, l 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, l oftei. 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
think l know her great soul by heart.
And | know all about that ''sad mis-
take, although she does not dream that
1t is known to me. If l were to tell her
that learned from her own lips to call
1T u mistake" am sure that she would
think the affliction that has dwarfed and
tortured my body for almost forty years
has attacked my mind as we'll, for she
does not really look upon it as a blunder.
Ii she ever allows herself to think of
it as 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 bravest
and best of us. But heard Aunt Mere
dith tell Uncle Clay only last night that
"there can be no blunders in Gods
plan;" and if she can stand up 50
grandly amid the ruins of youths prom
ises and testify to the perfection of the
eternal plan, few indeed have the right
to sit in judgment on it.
l feel the warm tears trickling down
my cheeks as | watch the figure in the
freight. l can remember the day when
this white haired woman, knitting stock
ings in the chimney corner, was the mer-
riest girl in our village.
''And the handsomest one," people
said. "And the best one," John East
man declared, when he asked her to be
his wife. 'And the happiest one," l
heard her tell herself when John was
gone, and with him her pledge.
| was child then, but remember it.
am a child now, for that matter;
child in body, man in years; but re-
member it all as plainly as if it had