Wheeling Sunday register. [volume] (Wheeling, W. Va.) 1882-1934, 1892-03-13

night on which he had renewed MS az
ouaintance las he though) with his old
playfellow through the parlor window.
The next day he had gone down to Rich
mond 10 order some things he needed
for his temporary establishment and to
talk TO a contractor about putting up
house for him in case he should decide
10 ''stop on the ranch" for year so.
He was not man that ever let the grass
grow under his feet. -,
Standing in the middle OF the old
room, the past got hold OF him some
how and pushed It's way through the
hard crust OF the outer man to the sane
tuary which even the toughest OF US
keep somewhere about our anatomy for
the refuge Of few tender associations
our youth, our homes and mothers, the
girl. perhaps, whose eyes gave US our
heartache.
Old Mrs. Anthony had not been in any
wav a show figure. She was tall and
spare OF limb, and slow. OF speech and
gait; her eyes were sad, and her tnln'
Sallow fact had rather a mourniul ex-
preston. She wore rough clothes ana
a kerchief folded cornerwise over her
grizzled hair, and smoked cornceo pipe
ia the intervals OF her labOrs; but she
was a good woman, faithful, dutlful
wife aud a devoted and self sacrificing
mother, kind and gentle and patient,
and indulgent to her offspring, as wo-
men OF her class usually are. Her son
her Youngest bOrn-had loved her,
and 10 was OF her alone he was think
ing as he stood by the hearthstone ana
looked at the corner where her spinning
wheel and her old split bottomed rock
ing chair used to stand. Poor old
mother, II she could see him now,
standing there, wealthy, educated, well
dressed, honOred among men ana
owner OF the old plantation on which
they had lived as servants!
or the Saturnine, lOng-haired father,
and the FIVE lank, slab-sided brothers,
the problem Of whose useless existence
il had taken civil war 10 solve, he
thought little. He had not cared for
them greatly, and 10 was no distress TO
him 10 know that they were dead. But
his mother was different. She had been
the one human creature he had loved
unselfshly-beSideS little Mary Beverley.
he was thinking OK her, OF his grief at
her death, his Indignation when within
the wear his father had brought home
another in her place, his hatred Of his
stepmother, which had resulted in his
running away from home TO seek his
fortune, and all the old time matters,
when he was aroused by hearing voice
outside. 1t was a clear, full voice, soft
ly moduated and its intonation was
very pleasant-unmiStakably the voice
of a lady.
"Stay here Ladies'" she was saying,
land play until get through talking
to the old people, and then we'll walk
over 10 Judge Winners for some apples.
/ can't let you come, indeed, Ran. The
last time I took you 10 the cabin you
upset Aunt Kitty's churn and wasted
all the poor Old woman's buttermilk on
the floor. Yes, my child, know it
was an accident, but such accidents
are always happening TO yOh. You are
a very unluckY and needless little boy,
and 10 take you visiting is simply TO III
vite calamity. Stay here, and be good
children. / won't be long"
Anthony drew near the window, and
In a moment had the satisfaction OF
seeing tall, graceful woman, with a
little willow basket in her hand, pass
and enter the farthest of the group OF
cabins.
Meanwhile, the boys, two in number,
and aged respectively five and seven
years, had taken possession Of the porch
and were climbing on the ratings.
They were large, straight limbed chill
dren. and the smaller had a crop OF
chestnut curlS that fell almost 10 his
waist. As they jumped about they
laughed and chartered. The door was
a triGe ajar, and Anthony could hear
every word.
"Aunt Neelle didn't want mamma to
nut any coffee in her basket, " remarked
the smaller child; "She said mamma
ouChtn't TO give the servants things,
cause maybe we'd want EN- ourselves.
That's mean, amt il, Hector? We've
got a whole bucket Of coffee in our
store-roOm and poor old Aunt Kitty
hasn't any in her cupboard. She asked
mamma TO save her the grounds; l
heard her that day knocked the churn
over
"Aunt Neelie's such a hunks! l hate
her" responded Hector. "She's always
fussing about something. Other folks
want coffee, too, just as well as she
does. I reckon. Mamma don't listen TO
her. one good thing, and gives the old
folks things all the time. White people
always give 10 black people; Aunt Nee
Die ought 20 know that. II they didn't,
who would
But this was much too difficult Ques-
tion for little Ran TO settle; he avoided
IL. therefore, and introduced another
tODic. 'Hec, what Is pauperS?'
Folks that haven't any money, nor
anv place TO live, nor things to eat, nor
Clothes To wear" defined Hector COM
prehensVely.
Then we amt that. thought we
weren't. because we've got land and
house, and lots of things. Aud you've
got a calf. and I've got ten cents, and
gander, and little pig, aud a Speckled
pullet. and''-growing weary with the
Of his wealth-"and, oh,
yes. drake with a wen under his
chin
who said we were paupers?" fred
Hector. Its lie.'
$50 'tis," acQuiesced Ran pleasantly,
,Tf not having things is being pauperS.
But YOU must not say it's a lie, Hec, be
cause twas Aunt Neelie that said IL.
She said it when mamma told her that
the gentleman had come that bought
the land. YOU kuow-grandpa'S land and
fathers. She cried when mamma told
her. and said the BeverleyS were pau
pers and that mamma didn't care one
bit. and was glad the land was gone, be-
cause she wasn't Beverley"
..She is a Beverley, asserted Hector;