Macon beacon. [volume] (Macon, Miss.) 1859-1995, 1892-09-10

'NNNtt % uuSpiNdlttN' NuN Adtl'A hNAlS
at present only the bright smile and
outstretched hand with which Jen wa,
welcomed.
You are like sunshine to me,
chcrie,' the old lady said, as Jen, &c
cording to custom. Invested herself OF
hat and gloves and sat down by the in
valid's bedside. She saw at once a
change in the clear dark face, DR..
Byrnes had told her only that morning
the poor lady's hours were numbered,
yet Jenny, strong in youth and health,
felt a keen shock from what she SAN as
proof of his words. Only 70. a moment,
however, The wan face os the invalid
had such a peaceful, holy calm about j.
1T was so content
There are many things | have
wanted to say to-day, dear little girl"
Nine. Dupre half whispered y have
thought so much of what brought me
hereto find some trace OF Col. Roger
sons brother. As You know, | only
heard of his death. And now, Jenny, |
am gong to leave you what | would
have given him, the one wedding pres
ent prepared for my darling Angeliquc.
Alas, il was too late, She was ten
miles away from our plantation. ! had
but one person to trust with il, an old
negro who was faithful to us through
all, | gave it to him to carry to my
darling with my blessing. Wen, her
betrothed had been killed that day and
a week later she yielded to the dread
full fever raging in New Orleans at the
time. Caspar brought back the cush-
ion-only a little cushion, child, but it
shall be yours, 1t has been my one
memento of that time"
Dear madame" said Jennie, very
gently, do not think of what will sad
den YOU"
But it does not" exclaimed the old
lady, softly. "Oh, no; it is my happi-
ness, Go, my dear, to the chest of
drawers; open the small one: there you
will find it. We had strange ways in
those hard war times" the old lady
continued, as Jcn, firmly convinced
madame was wandering, quietly did
her bidding, ut is only an old PIN
cushion, but it could tell its story"
Jen opened the small drawer, and
saw, pinned in a vellowiah piece of
linen, the cushion. Fashioned of faded
blue and white brocadc, edged with
old lace, there was something about it
which appeared to Jen strangely, The
old war days" were only history to
eighteen-year.old Jen, and this cushion,
made of what had once been a splendid
fabric, might have represented rcvolu-
tionary times as well as those Of the
early sixties. Then it had been meant
for the wedding gift of Angeliquc, who
was, from madamc's stories, an ideal
creature to the young girl. Jen carried
the old cushion with revcrent fingers
to madame's bed.
"IOurS, dearest" murmured the old
lady. IAN have to leave you-and
for that | have made my will"
Only Jen and Teddy Barry, and the
people with whom Nine. Duprc
had lodged, followed the old lady to
her grave on the 18th. An hour later
Hiram Dali was at the farmhouse.
with, if possible, a more disagreeable
expression than usual on his face.
81 wish you joy, Jenny" he said,
with a sncer, "You are the Old mad
ame's sole heir! lie! he. She sent for
me TO draw up the will! All for a pin
cushion
He tossed it across the table con-
t%cmptuously. Jenny could scarcely
control herself. She felt as though her
old friends legacy was desccrated,
"tiot Il running string in it, too con
tinucd the Old man, like a bag"
Jenny was looking at the cushion
with wet eyes. She had really loved
the old Creole lady. Now, as Dali
spoke, she looked under the lace at
n side of Angelique's ''onc wedding
gift and saw, sure enough, the thin
sillien ribbon III in and tied at the
end. Her loosening Of the knot so
long ago fastened was almost mechani-
cal, and thcn-how un one present ever
could exactly say, but as the brocadc
drew back out from the sawdu,t
rolled upon Ienny's lap a heap of shin
ing jewels. rubies and opalS. and bank
notes in what seemed TO the Girl an
Aladdin like profuSion, After all, it
was easily explained. Situated as She
had been, Nine. Duprc's one means of
sending money and the jewels to her
only child had been in this fashion.
No one would suspect old Caspar of
carrying such a treasure in Il pin
cushion of faded brocadc, and since
Angelique's death the sentiment in the
French woman's naturc-pcrhaps a
touch of superstition-had led her to
keeping it intact, Who can say?
This is a true story, a chapter ont of
the life of one Of my friends, who now,
happy mistress of the bonnicst farm
in Connecticut, tells her children the
cushion story and in a corner cabi-
net in her parlor the blue and white
brocade and old lace have their es-
pecial niche. Jenny INDUCED in no
mean triumph over old Dali when with
madame's queer legacy She bought
back the farm, but she and Teddy had
their W hour of rejoicing, and when
ever he does any specially fine piece
of work in his profession Jen likes to
say: That's a bit of our cushion" -
Ilarper's Young People.