San Antonio daily light. [volume] (San Antonio, Tex.) 1886-1907, 1891-05-02
OLD CASTINE.

lay over the land, and the sea showed only
a wide expanse of toneless gray-none of
those warm tints of gold that sometimes
shine through and soften the gray into
tender shades of heliotrope and pink-were
visible today, but the cold brooding shadow
seemed to hang over ocean and shore.
The shadow had penetrated into our lit
tie seaside cottage, too; it hung like
cloud over our spirits, and even cast pen.
sive reflection over the sunny counJerpane
in 1.-The Bower" We felt, with one ac-
cord that there were too many shoes I'M
der the stove, and too many noudescr;pt
garments hanging on the walls. Classic
| literature had become dull, and seaside
novels even more trashy than usual, so
when some bright spirit suggested, Lets
go and see Aunt Eunice." our exodus was
| as united and complete as that OF me chill
dren of Israel when they started for the
Promised Land.
The spirit of peace always brooded over
Aunt Eunices cottage. 1t stood on a
point of land stretching out into the little
land locked harbor, sheltered on either
side by a tranquil cove. The long slope IN
front of the house was always green and
smooth, and the flowers in the little gar
| den blossomed to order in neat and SYM
metrical rows. We entered through the
''shed place." as Aunt Eunice called it
the summer parlor, in our own nomen-
clature. Here the floor shone with the
very polish of neatness. A wide hammock,
gay with chintz cushions, hung in the CEN
ter, while by the window stood the little
clawfooted table where Aunt Eunice sat
in la
and one or two quaint, high backed rock
ers, that always seemed to hold in their
sleepy ''creaky craw" the echo of old time
cradle songs. On either side wide door
opened, showing on the one hand little
forest shaded cove, on the other the broad
Atlantic waters, reaching across to meet
the Camden hills.
The house was a veritable treasure troye,
and Aunt Eunice herself, a quick, bright
eyed little woman, was as delightfulias a
book of fairy tales. She could tell us all
about the queer, foreign china in the
dining room cupboard, and the story of
grand'the knee buckles and grandma's
lace vandyke, that were carefully treas
ured in the quaint, little cubby hole
by the sitting room chimney. There
was the story of the English man-of-war
dining room wall, high shouldered old
craft whose timbers have long been whit
ening on a Spanish beach. Then in the
low chambers, out of the drawers under
the eaves-"lockers, Capt. Eph called
them-came stores of homespun linen,
marvellous old bed quilts in many pat
terms, hand woven counterpanes in rich
hues our grandmothers knew the secret
had re CTR stS Of
human interest, of love and life, woven
into warp and wool
On this dull afternoon Aunt Eunice was
sitting by the cheerful blaze of the sitting
room fire, and we all gathered around her
"We're tired of being outside barbarians,
Aunt Eunice," said Nan pensively, land
so we came over here where it seems sort
of civilizedW
eyes," said Mollie thoughtfully, land
we want you to tell us about your an
cestors Over on the mainland we haven't
many ancestors-the most of us Just
growed,' like Topsy-but here on the island
you all have your forefathers and fore
mothers, and we want to know about
them"
"And to see their pictures" added Ned,
mindful of promise made by Aunt Eunice
on former occasion.
Aunt Eunice smilingly opened a shallow
drawer in the heavy mahogany press which
stood near by, and brought forth the treas
ured contents, silhouettes of beruffied gen
tlemen and simpering ladies, faded daguer
reotypes of sea captains who looked like
half tanned vikings, queer looking ambro-
types and photographs of stalwart youths,
bright eyed maidens and chubby chill
dren, a motley and varied collection, and
last of all, out of its wrappings of silver
paper, she brought a faded velvet case
about the size of modern cabinet photo
graph. Inside the case, exquisitely mounted
| in a setting of small pearls, was a portrait
painted on ivory-the portrait of young
girl, simply attired, with no ornament save
a kerchief of fine lace, opening little to
show the fair throat it graced-but oh! the
length of shining tresses, the rose flush on
the oval cheek, the light and life in the
great dark eyesl She seemed the very
spirit of morning, the embodiment of
happy youth.
SIS she dead?" asked Robin, la Mark
Twain. eff she isn't 1 shall marry her my
self"
Eyes," answered Aunt Eunice thought
fully. "That is the picture of my great
| aunt Eunice, and she has been dead this
many a year"
"And has it history" questioned Ned.
"A history, and romance too" Aunt
Eunice replied gravely. 1T was painted
from memory by one who loved her well.
She herself never saw it, for when, after the
death of the artist, it was sent across the
sea to her the grass was already green upon
her grave"
Robin placed the open case upon the Ia
bic, Just where the Pickering freight
shone brightest upon the fair young face.
Come, Aunt Eunice," he said, 1--WE want
to know the whole story, history. romance