The Princeton union., 1892-08-18

shapes. There We're stars and rising
suns" and blocks Joined in quaintands
precise manner. That cushion had
come one Christmas morning with the
inscription. "Just TO let my little
girl know that mother does not forget
her" The picture over the piano.
When Miss Hunt looked at It there
came always q big lump in her throat,
for it used to hang over her piano in
a Western home. The pretty lamp
on the table-ah! could she not now
see two silyered heads bent close to
its light? .. q pair OF thin hands
Auttering over the bits of silk.
'piecing blocks" for ''lny little
girl" away in New York. an
other pain sinewy, honest,
fatherlY ha'ds holding the newspaper
Miss Hunt had sent?
Somewhere tonight they had been.
sitting, old, tired out with the burden
and heat al life, alone. They had
| worked, saved and denied themselves
many luxuries so that their bright
and ambitious daughter should have
chance in the world. They h3d
placed no obstacles in her way, had
listened patiently when she told them
o. her intention to 60 forth and battle
for success. All! they had believed in
her, followed her with their prayers
and never murmured at her long alb
| s.nce.
She remembered her first days in
New York, when, friendless, ignorant
| and unknown, she had gone about
timidly, uncertainty. What noun
! tain of strength their letters had been!
| Miss Hunt sighed. She had not writ
ten home as often of late as she could
she had been so busy-and when
one writes for living one wearies at
the sight of pen and ink. But their
letters, preaching love, tender faith
and pride, had come every week-no
failure there The fountain of par
entail love had remained pure and
fresh and strong.
"We know you are busy the last
letter had said; 1--WE hope you are
happy and satisfied. 1t has occurred
to US OF late that your letters have a
mournful tinge. Remember, daugh-
ter, that if you ever weary of your
useful life the cd home stands al
ways open-yes-longingior you"
Miss Hunt stirred the blazing fire
impatiently. "Let me see," she said
to hersel!-"where is it I have to go
tomorrow? The Summing assign
ment how dread it :. i.
|. remember, daughter =. I
must see those committee women {.
|. if you ever weary and
then, there's that interview with the
woman in the tombs .. hor-
rible. Twas in hopes they would new
er send me there again the
old -stands-always open
yes, and longing"
Miss Hunt started up with a cry.
The old home! Why was she not
there with her patient, gentle, lonely
father and mother? What was she
doing here-here?
IA useful life," they had said. Yes,
she had led useful honest life. She
had been conscientious and pains-tak-
ing. She had persevered through for
midable difficulties and succession
Of heart-rending disappointments.
She was rewardel now. People were
t liking of her clever, distinctive, or.
iyinal work. She was quoted, writ.
ten about, pointed out as one of the
bright It newspaper women in town.
She had begun to dip into magazine
work and one of the most conserva-
tive Of periodicals had already pub
lished articles from her pen. ...-
But oh! life is brief and loveis mighty
A greatsswave or homesickness rolled
.over the girl as she thought OF that
Little honie-open always-y es, longing
for her; Of those two dear faces ever
Set patiently towards the East, look.
ing for their sunlight.
/ What were success, admiration,
work, money and independence com.
. pared to this sudden rush of feeling
that shook her soul? "What does il
amount to after all?" over and over
again she asked her sick heart. Glow
little it all means, anyhow"
,"Iwish," said the city editor a few
days later, II wish little Hunt had
not cleared out. She would be the
very one to work up the mystery sur
rounding the death of that girl. Hans
it all! Why did she 20 away"
x Why? Ask that silver.haiped couple
away out in little Western home
who would tell you with bated breath
and a rad ance like thellght of HEAVIER
on their faces of one evening when
as they sat by their lonely 6residt
reading over one OF their little girls
''pieces," they heard a quick, resoIut.
step ring up the garden walk. Their
the latch clicked, the door swung oper
and seli-contained, wei poised, ener
getic Miss Hunt, who had undaunted
" faced every hardship and danger il
her literary existence, became as {
tile child.
For with one big sob she flung her
! self on her knees between those wear
watchers, and the thin, wrinkled hand
met over their '4iittle girls" head.
Miss Hunt had given up journalism
:: tor the home that was always ope,
yes, longing for her. New Yorl
World.
interesting,
1t was decided that Mr.. Wrigh