Essex County herald. [volume] (Guildhall, Vt.) 1873-1964, 1921-08-04
CHAPTER Vl-Continued.)

Sheila took the letter. it ran as
follows:
dearest Sister:
at is eleven years since | wrote to
you, and yet, though it may seem
strange, there have not been eleven
days in all the time in which l have
not wished you and Sheila were here.
Sheila-why, she is a 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 a sense it is always summer, but
winter in my place would be like sum-
mer in Norway-just btingly 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.
Not 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
cloCkwork without creakS in the ma
Chinery. I've built it all up out of
next to nothing l landed in this
country with my little fortune of two
thousand pounds. This estate is worth
at least a quarter of a million now
I've an estate in jamaica, too. l took
it for a debt. What it'll be worth in
another twenty years l don't know.
shan't be here to see. I'm not the
man l was physically, and that's one
of the reasons why I'm writing to you
to-day.
81 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 l love
about me as the shadows infOld me.
This place, which l 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 Corinthian pillars and veranda,
high steps, hardwood floors polished
like a pan, every room hung in dim
ity and chintz, and the smell of
fruit and flowers everywhere. You
will want to see 1t 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 and
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 I'm 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 boys, 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 1t is as a mem
mory-deep, wonderful, and abiding,
yet a memory.
"Oh, believe me, l speak of what ]
know! / have been away from Ire
land for a long time, and I'm never
going back, but I'll bring Ireland to
me. Come here, colleen, come to Vir.
ginia Write to me, on the day you
get this letter, that you're coming
soon, because l 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.
"Eow with my love to you and Shel