Norwich bulletin., 1915-03-23

I I dreamed all night long of Grandma | St. Aubyn's legacy. At one time, 1t was a great heap of chinking gold, at another it was ropes of shimmering pearls.
 Morning came, and we made an early start for Seaview. | The old-fashioned house, standing on the summit of a hill that overlooked | the sea, was all closed and silent, and | in the musty parlor grandma lay in state.
 Poor grandma! When I saw her placid old face and folded arms, l wept in genuine sorrow. forgetful or my own selfish interests. | The funeral over, we were gathered | in the dusty old library, and there the will was read. | The legacies were numerous. A hum | dred pounds to one, and more or less to another; seaview to a nephew, the household effects to a niece, and to l myself, Libbie, wife of Stephen Holmes, 1 the sum of 22o to buy mourning ring, and the old harpsichord which stood in the parlor.
 "Oh. Steve. it is cruel!" I sobbed, as we started homeward. | 'rNever mind, Libbie,' he said; i've shall get along without it." But it was hard work. Steve got | weaker as the winter came on; and one stormy afternoon they sent him home in a carriage. He had Tainted at his desk.
 I've gone under Libbie," he said, with a sad smile. Poor little wife | what will you do noW?" Never mind, Steve,'' I answered, as I smoothed his pillow and kissed his white lips, "I'll manage somehow. only don't you worry, dear. l can sew, you know, and the nights are long and baby | isn't a bit of trouble"
 But sew as I would, day and night, the bills ran up, and the rent remained unpaid, the doctors fees and the apcthecary's bill taking every penny I could earn.
 One bitter swinter afternoon the cli- max came. The landlord gave us warning to leave. We could not occupy | the cottage longer, unless the back rent was paid. In addition to this. the butcher and grocer both sent in their bills.
 And Steve was worse.
 Hell die," the doctor said, unless you can take him to a warm climate
 What should I do? I couldn't SC into the chamoer where he lay, lest he I went into our little parlor, and throw
 ing myself on the lounge, sobbed as ii my heart would break. | Baby crept in after me, and fell tc
 lingering at the old harpsichord.
 We had brought it home from Sea-
 view, or, rather, Steve had, for I in
 sisted that we should have nothing tc
 do with 1t.
 "No, mo- Lib," he said; 'it is grand
 mas gift, and she's in her grave now
 It stood in one corner of our little
 parlor, gaunt and ancient as grandma
 herself
 It was baby's supreme delight to fin
 ger the rusty wires She fell to worl
 now, running her chubby hands ovel
 them.
 Don't co ~-kye, mammy, and Bloss!
 pay co a song," she 1isped. But tool
 no heed. With the sure prospect O
 seemed breaking.
 Blossy twanged the wires. and thu
 winter storm howled outside, and wept in my helpless woe. Presently a great crash and shril shriek from Blossy started me to m, feet The whole front had given way , and there stood Rlossy like a ghost. Please, mammy, don't scold Blossy she faltered; she only tried to climl up."
 } I did not answer, for somethin, caught my eye-a sanda1wood box 7 long and curiously carved, within tn l case of the harpsichord. I snatchet 1t up.
 } "For my dear niece, Iibbie Holmes, ; was inscribed on the top, and a tin! silver key shone in the lock. How I got it open never knew, bu it was brimful of crumpled bank bill and broad, golden coins and coils o priceless gems. "Oh, Steve, Steve!" I cried, rushing
 breathless into his room. See what have found! Grandma St. Aubyn dit remember us and here is her legacy I-Exchange.