The Wichita daily eagle. [volume] (Wichita, Kan.) 1890-1906, 1891-02-04
OLD CASTINE.

1t was dull, chilly afternoon; shadow
lay over the land, and the sea showed only
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 a
cloud over our spirits, and even cast pen
sve reflection over the sunny counterpane
in ''the Bower" We felt, with one ac-
cord, that there were too many shoes I'M
der the stove, and too many nondescript
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
90 and see Aunt Eunice." our exodus was
as united and complete as that of the chill
dren of Israel when they started for the
Promised Land.
The spirit of peace always brooded over
Aunt Eunice's cottage 1t stood on a
point of land stretching out into the little
land locked harbor, sheltered on either
side by 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
with her work in the sunny afternoons,
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 a wide door
opened, showing on the one hand a little
forest shaded cove, on the other the broad
Atlantic waters, reaching across to meet
the Camden hills.
The house was veritable treasure trove,
and Aunt Eunice herself, a quick, bright
eyed little woman, was as delightfulsas
book of fairy tales. She could tell us all
about the queer, foreign china in the
dining room cupboard, and the story of
grand theirs 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
Rover, whose dingy picture hung on the
dining room wall. a 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
of, and each had its story, its thread 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
Were tired of being outside barbarians,
Aunt Eunice," said Nan pensively, land
so we came over here where it seems sort
of civilizedp
Yes" 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 a former occasion.
Aunt Eunice smilingly opened shallow
drawer in the heavy mahogany press which
stood near by, and brought forth the treas
ured contents, silhouettes of beruffled 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
1ren, 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 a modern cabinet photo
graph. Inside the case. exquisitely mounted
in a setting of small pearls, was a portrait
painted on ivory-the portrait of a young
girl, simply attired, with no ornament save
a kerchief of fine lace, opening a 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.
as she desd;" asked Robin. a Ia Mark
Twain. IF she isn't / shall marry her my
self"
Yes" answered Aunt Eunice thought
fully. THAT is the picture of my great
aunt Eunice, and she has been dead this
many year.
And has it a history" questioned Ned.
"A history, and a 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
be. Just where the Pickering freight
,houe brightest upon the fair young fs,e
Come. Aunt Eunice," he said, I'VE want
to know the whole story, history, romance
md all"
1t is a ong story. Aunt Eunice began,
bat then you know love TO tell those Old
tales. You see, my Greatgran't Their and
Grandma Coleman were among the earliest
settlers Of Deer Isle When they came
here from Massachusetts,. about l166, a
large part Of that island was still an I'M
broken wilderness, and it needed stout
hearts and strong hands 10 make life en-
durable amid the hardships they had to
encounter, bat Gran'ther Coleman was a
large, powerful man and Cran'ma was
strong and healthy. and they took hold
with Will and made a home for them
selves. and children were born 10 them. and
perhaps they enioyed life lust as well as