The Maryville times. (Maryville, Tenn.) 1884-1944, 1893-06-07

romped so often in childhood the red
clover fields wcre abloom on either
hana. Yet saw nothing Of this, and
was scarcely cogniEant Of the fact that
the sun Shone. Nature might have boen
in her happiest mood, and am inclined
| to think she was, and would not have
noted it. had no eyes for anything
about me, no thoughts for anything
save myself and the scene through
which had just passed
II was relief to know that the old
| life of suffering was ut an end, yet the
knowledge brought feeling Of sadness
to my heart The old home was dear
to me, though the memories connected
= with 1t were anything but endearing,
and, in spite Of al adendured there, my
soul chung to the old place with strange,
unaccountable fondness. Then, too,
the thought of leaving my father, never,
perhaps, to see him again; the thought
of parting from him as had-to carry
In my mind through all the years of my
life remembrance of him as saw him
last, cruel, stern, angry and forbidding;
to bear In my memory, always, his
picture as ! saw him that morning,
standing erect in the middle of the
room, his eyes sparkling with anger,
his face dark and frowning, his voice
cold and hard, and his hand pointing to
the door through which he had sternly
hidden me pass never to return; the
remembrance stirred my soul to its
depths, and the anger that had filled
me and sustained me died out, giving
place to feeling Of wretchedness that
Frustrated me completely.
could not go on then, and sinking
down by the wayside burst into tears.
Never before had realized how dearly
] loved my father, and never had SO
lieenly felt the pangs his cruelties and
neglect inflicted upon me. All the pain
he had caused me from childhood up
rushed into my soul in that one mo-
ment. endured again all the hard
things he had spoken to Inc, and all the
blows he had given me. Yet, I loved
him. and grieved because OF our sepa-
ration.
As sat by the roadside with my face
covered by my hands, heard some one
approaching, and looking up l saw
Aunt Mary. Her eyes were damp and
! knew she had been weeping, too. She
did not speak, and think her heart
was too full to admit of it, but she
came and sat down by me and put her
| arms around me and drew me to her,
and held me so for a long time. Her
sympathy so delicately expressed had
q wonderfully soothing effect upon me,
and by degrees grew calm.
Aunt Mary" at last ventured to
remark, mo matter what happens, or
who turns from me, you love me-"
Eyes, chile, done tole yo' dat. Sich
lub an sympathy as no count ole mig
gah has goU to glib yo's gwine to git,
sho' an sartin. Yo' jis' bar dat in min !,
now; an don't yo' neber go an forgit
it. No mattah wher yo' is, honey, ner
how fer in de future de time is, if de
day eber comes when yo' feels de need
OBJ me yo' jis' let me know, an I'll come
to yo' If has to take my foot in my
han an walk thousan' miles to git
dar. OATS jis' 'zackly what I'll do,
chile, if Is got der bref OBJ life in my
po' ole body. Yo' jis' member dat now,
an don yo' fergit to let me know if yo'
needs me-"
''I'n never forget you, Aunt Mary" I
replied, land I'll never forget how
good and kind you've been to me; and if
ever | need friend I'll remem Der that
I've got one in YOU"
81 warrant you'll do all dat, honey"
she observed, but yo' amt done said
dat YOU send for me if yo' needs me-"
~ will say it, them" said l. "If
should get sick, and likely to not get
well, III send for you, Aunt Mary, be-
cause then I'd want some one near who
loved me, and there is no one else l
could call for"
Aunt Mary made no answer, but
heard her murmur the words:
"Po' chile, po' chile"
There was a long pause, after which
! continued:
81 don't know where I shall go, Aunt
Mary, nor where shall find a stopping
place. know nobody and know moth.
ing OF the world, and have no idea
where shall find home or friends
But suppose shall find them some
where, or at least I suppose l shall
manage in some way to live"
"Yes, honey, reckon So" Aun,
Mary replied, "but is feerd you'll fin
de worr monty col an unfeelin'. Dem
as goes out frien'less giner'ly habs 9
hard row to hoe. Marse Daniel ain't
got de feelin' for yo' what faddel
ought to hab, s'pecks, yit l dunno il
he won't be sorry fore tomorrow fol
what he done said dis mornin', an meb
by if yo' wuz to stop somewhere nigh
bout he'd let yo' come back home 'fort
many days"
mo, Aunt Mary" said l, ''he told mt
to go and never return, and / never
shall. | regret to go, and If he had no
driven me away would have remained
D and borne patiently with the crueltie
of my life, but now l shall never re
4 turn"
But de worl'. chile, am monty COLI
I to de frien'less," the old servant urged
4 II know that" replied; "but at tn
e most it can do no more than allow m
Q to die. an had as well be dead as t
q live as have"
n "'Specks dat's nigh de trufe," Aun
Mary admitted.
|. ut is the TRUTH" said l. "Deat
would be preferable to such an exist