Eagle River review. [volume] (Eagle River, Wis.) 1890-1927, 1901-07-11

temples, excrarming: cts come, Tt,s
come! remember now-the large gar
uen-the cross old mantle dead mother
the rosy-cheeked Ella / loved SO well
Ihat was my mother-my mother" in
terrupted Mary.
FOR a moment Sally regarded her in
tently, and then catching her in her arms
cried over her, calling her ''her precious
chlld, and wondering she had never no
uced how much she was like Ella.
And don't you remember the baby
Jane| asked Mrs. Campbell, who was
present
"Perfectly-pertectly," answered Sally.
lie died and you came in a carriage. but
didn't cry--nobody cried but Mary"
1t was in vain that Mary tried to ex-
plain to her that Mrs. Campbell was her
sister-once the baby Jane. Sally wac
not to be convinced. To her Jane and
the little Alice were the same. There was
none Of her blood in Mrs. Campbelrs
veins, 'or why" said she, "did she leave
us so long in obscurity, me and my niece,
Mrs. George Moreland, Esq.,"
This was the title which she always
gave Mary when speaking Of her, while
to Ella, who occasionally spent week
in her sisters pleasant home, she gave
the name of little cipher as expressing
exactly her opinion OF her. Nothing SO
much excited Sally, or threw her i1to SO
violent a passion, as to have Ella call
her aunt
IF l wasn't her kin when l wore a six
penny Calico said she, Il certainly am
not now that | dress in purple and fine
linen"
When Sally first went to Boston
George procured for her the best possi-
BILE medical advice, but her case was of
so long standing that but little hope was
entertained Of her entire recovery. Still,
everything was done for her that could
be done, and after a time she became faF
less boisterous than formerly, and some
times appeared perfectly rational for
days.
True to her promise, on Mary's twenty
first birthday, Mrs Campbell made over
to her one-fourth Of her property, and
Mary, remembering her intentions to-
ward William Bender, Immediately offer
cd him one-half of it. But he declined
accepting it, saying that his profession
was Snfticient to support both himself and
Jenny, for in a few weeks Jenny, whose
father had returned from California, was
coming and already a neat little cottage,
@lile from the city, was being prepar-
ed for her reception. Mary did not urge
the matter, but many an article Of fur
nitr're more costly than William was able
to purchase found it's way into the cot
taSe, which, with its oyerhanging vines,
climbing roses and profusion of flowers,
seemed just the home for Jenny Lincoln.
And when the flowers were in full
bloom, when the birds sang amid the
trees, and the summer sky was bright
and blue, Jenny came to the cottage,
joyous, loving bride, believing her own
husband the best in the world, and Won
dering If there was ever any one as hap
~ as herself. And Jenny was very
happy. Blithe as a bee, she fitted about
the house and garden and if in the morn
Ing a tear glistened in her laughing eyes
as William bade her adieu, it was quick
ly dried, and all day long she busted her
self in her household matters, studying
some agreeable surprise for her husband.
and trying for his sake to be very neat
and orderly.
There was no place which Ella loved
so we'll to visit or where she seemed so
happy, as at the Cottage" and as she
was of but little use at home, she FREE
quently spent whole weeks with Jenny,
becoming gradually more cheerful-more
like herself, but always insisting that she
should never be married.
The spring following Mary's removal
to Boston, Mrs. Mason came down to the
city to live with her adopted daughter,
greatly to the delight OF Aunt Martha,
whose home was lonelier than it was
wont to be, for George was gone, ant
Ida, too, had recently been married t
Mr.. Elwood and removed to Lexington
XIV
And now a glance at Chicopee, and our
story Is done. Mr.. Lincoln's California
adventure had been a successful one, and
not long after his return he received from
George Moreand conveyance of the
farm, which, under Mr. Pnrker's eff
cient management, was in a high state of
cultivation. Among the inmates of tho
poorhouse but few changes have taken
place. Miss Grundy, who continues at
the helm, has grown somewhat older and
crosser, while Uncle Peter labors indus
triously at a new fiddle, the gift of Mary,
who is still remembered with much af-
lection.
Lydia Knight now a young lady of
sixteen, is a pupil at Mount Holyoke,
and Mrs Perkins, after wondering and
wondering where the money came from,
has finally concluded that some of
Georges folks must have sent it.'
CHhe end)