The independent-reporter. [volume] (Skowhegan, Me.) 1909-1955, 1921-11-17

you, and yet, though 1t may seem
strange, there have not been eleven
days In all the time in which | have
not wished you and Sheila were here.
Sheila-why. she is young woman!
! She's about the age you were when
left Ireland. and you were one OF
the most beautiful and charming
creatures God ever gave life'to.
MY estate is neither north nor
south. but farther south than north.
In sense 1t is always summer, but
winter In my place would be like sum
mer in Norway-just bltingly fresh,
, happily alert. I'm writing in the sum-
mer now. look out of the window and
see hundreds of acres of cotton
fields, with hundreds upon hundreds
of negroes at work. hear the songs
they sing, faint echoes of them, as |
write. Yes, my black folk do sing,
because they are well treated.
mot that we haven't our troubles
!, here. You can't administer thousands
OF acres, control hundreds of slaves.
and run an estate like piece of
cockwork without creaks in the ma
chinery. I've built it all up out of
next to nothing. / landed In this
! country with my little fortune Of two
: thousand pounds. This estate Is worth
) at least Il quarter of a million NOW.
! I've an estate in Jamaica, too. | took
1t for a debt. What it'll be worth in
another twenty years | don't know.
To- To IN tnt ll1
man | was physically, and that's one
of the reasons why I'm writing to you
today.
II want you and Sheila to come
here to me, to make my home your
home, TO take control of my house.
hold, and to let me see faces | love
about me as the shadows infold me.
This place. which | have called
MORA, is to be yours,-or, rather
Sheila's. SO. in any case. you will
want to come and see the home ] have
made--this old colonial mansion, with
its Cprinthian pillars and yeranda,
high steps, hardwood floors polished
/ like n pan, every room hung in dim
ity and chlntz, and the smell of
fruit and flowers everywhere. You
will want to see it all. and you'll
want TO live here. ! have placed to
your credit in the Bank of Ireland a
thousand pounds. That will be the
means of bringing you here-you aud
Sheila--to my door, to MORA. Let moth
Ing save death. prevent your com
ing. AS far as Sheila's eye can see
| north, SOUTH east and West-the land
will be hers when Fin gone. Dearest
sister, sell all things that are yours,
! and come to me. You'll not forget Ire
land here. Whoever has breathed her
air can never forget the hills and
dells, the valleys and hogs the noun.
tains. with their mist of rain the Wild
girls. with their bare ankles. their red
petticoats, and their beautiful. reckless
air. None who has ever breathed the
air of Ireland can breathe In another
land without memory of the ancient
harp of Ireland. But II is as a mem
Anory-decp, wonderful, and abiding,
yet memory.
"Oh. believe me, speak of what
! know | have been away from Ire
land for long time, and I'm never
going back, but I'll bring Ireland 10
me. Come here. colleen, come to Nir-
ginia. Write to me, on the day you
get this letter, that you're coming
soon, because | feel the cords binding
me to my beloved fields growing thin.
ner. They'll soon crack, but. please
God, they won't crack before you
come here.
Nov with my love to you and Shei-
la l stretch out my hand 10 you Take
it. All that 1t has worked for Is
/ yours; all that 1t wants is you.
! "Your loving brother,
"BRYAN."
AS Sheila read, the tears started
frcn her eyes; and at last she could