The Republican journal. [volume] (Belfast, Me.) 1829-current, 1901-02-21

quaintness of the people we may feel
safe and happy among them for we can
surely expect only kindness from per
sons of such Openness and simplicity of
manner.
To little Myrtle there seemed new
ness to all things. In her childish
imagination she was in new world of
wonders. Going home she said but lit
tie, but during the day which followed
her many questions proved that nothing
had escaped her notice or failed to
make It's impression upon her. Myrtle
had never been sent to school, and as
| free schools were yet unknown in this
locality her uncle and aunt must still
be her only teachers. She was delicate
and thoughtful. She had never given
great trouble, but would amuse herself
for hours by simply allowing her imagi-
nation to work at will. Her large dark
eyes would seem gazing far away.
Sometimes her face would glow with a
sudden light, and those who understood
her knew that she was in little world
of her own. The twilight hour she
loved, and as soon as Patience had laid
aside her work Myrtle, creeping into
her arms, would say: "Now, auntie,
please tell me about mamma" Patience
always dwelt with admiration upon the
beauty and sweetness of Florence. un-
til Myrtle loved the mind picture which
she had formed of her mother as one
might love an ideal of all purity and
loneliness. With like eagerness she
sought to learn of her father, and in
her thought he stood the embodiment
OF everything noble. Her highest am
bition was to be like her parents, and
Mamma loved this, or papa would have
wished that" found always inspiring
motives.
As time passed on the Reeds failed to
realize all they had hoped from the re-
moval. johns experiments in farming
often disappointed him. Unused to
manual labor, the fatigue which it
caused often led to feelings of despon
dency. When he entered his humble
dwelling at night his early friends
would hardly have recognized in the
weary, dispirited man the brilliant and
talented John Reed. In his youth he
had been tiattered and admired and
there were high expectations for his
future. AS he thought of the past he
felt more and more, Il have been sadly
misplaced; something is wrong. I can
not expect success until the right work
is found''
Patience, despite her own hidden
feeling OF discouragement, was always
ready with words of cheer. ''Surely,
dear john" she would say, call things
will be made right, sometime, some
where; if not here, then beyond. God
knows your worth and will not forget
you. Let us wait His good time We
are not alone. No one is satisfied in
this life. Every one finds himself in a
place too narrow. If there be no new
circumstances in new sphere which
shall develop and utilize the talents
which are useless here, then we must
be the greatest of failures Surely the
dear Lord will not suffer this
Meanwhile we must not forget Grace,
away back in New England. By the
severest economy, with the aid of teach
ing and outside study, she had finished
her course at the seminary, but the
effort told heavily ON her strength, and
after graduation she was compelled to
spend some months in rest before teach
ing. When this period of rest was pas
sed she followed in the footsteps Of her
sister by teaching neighboring school.
The death OF her aunt, Mrs. Ray, and
the management of the eldest son, had
changed the once cheerful home. She
| still spent her vacations there, but the
| Old home feeling was gone forever. She
| longed for Patience and hoped to join
her soon. She would not go to her to
| to be dependent; and she could not find
suitable employment there at present;
| so she must toll ON alone while longer.
At the close of long weary term,
| when suffering from unusual discour-
agement, she wrote: ''My dear, dear
! sister, long for you so much. | used
| to think it hard to live one week with
out you, and on your return would lie
awake all night to tell you all | had
thought and done during your absence.
l wonder how l have lived all these
years since you went away from me-"
In the letter she enclosed a photograph
of herself. When Patience received it
she was just recovering from long
and painful illness of which she had
never written to Grace. Patience look
ed at the picture and noted the sad,
weary look in the eyes. She saw the
marks of care on the sweet, childish
features which her memory held, and
realized anew the desolation of that
sister over whose childhood she had
| watched with mothers care. With a
| low moan she exclaimed: 81 am power
| less to help her. When will it be other
! Wise?" For the first time her brave
| hope gave way and she sobbed piteously
| The intense heat of the summer, with
, her hard labor and the continual strain
| upon her nervous energies, by which
she had striven to maintain cheerful
ness and keep alive the fainting hope of
| her husband could not but have its
effect upon her; she could not always en-
| dure and be strong. That year the
| cotton crop, upon which they had great
ly depended, proved failure and had it
not been for the kindness of neighbors
they would have suffered from want.
Patience fully intended to send for
Grace, but the way did not seem to be
opened. "Grace could not be happy
| here now" she thought; 1--WE must have
better home and more desirable sur
roundings." The plan of governess
which Grace had mentioned could not
be thought of, for none in that region
were able to employ one. The few who
| were in better circumstances had no
| children. Patience, when health had
permitted, had taught number of the
neighboring children, for while teach
| ing Myrtle she did not value the extra
labor; but she could never think of re-
ceiving any remuneration. She, how
ever, found herself amply repaid in the
grateful love of the simple people. She
could not pain Grace by writing of her