Year: 1867




I'm not good at story telling. But
some way I've Thought if | told this
little thing, there might be some one
it would please. Not so much please
as comfort, may be, like sliding a
hand within bodys when they're in
trouble; for there's nothing hike a
quiet hand grip when one is in deep
pain. But about this little history.


1t isn't much, aud it has a poor
title, but if you knew how differently
the name sounded from what it looks,
starting there--how il makes me fash
and thrill with love and deep feeling,
You wouldn't think it so homely and
plain.


Every one knew him, from the lit
tie bare, brown footed children who
sold clans aud cookies, to the fine
people at the hotel, who always took
his yacht in place of the rest. As
for him-I'vo a notion he might have
made good picture. He was as
dark as an Indian, and as tall and
1.-THE. He could swim the farthest,
and pull the strongest oar; and as for
leaping and wrestling no one could
begin with him. There was rich,
dark red in the brown check, and
when he smiled it was pretty sight
such white teeth, and such strong
mouth, with the laugh deepening his
brown C es.


John had always been my friend;
he used to take me out in the yacht
when he went with Joe, my brother
aud stow me away on his jacket; and
then when grew older he was the
same kind friend-for Joe's wife died
and he left me the housekeeper, aud
John used to come in, when Joe was
gone on cruise to the cod fisheries
aud bring in armfuls of wood; and il
the winter make the paths, and sill
down by the fire, when the winter
nights we're bad, and talk with me
and in summer he used often to come
in with a word Of Joe and kind tall
with Charlie and me-(that was be
fore Charlie was large enough to g,
with his father in his trips)- y
and used to feel kind of sisterly
love for him. He was pretty mucf
alone; his mother died, and he liveC
alone with old Nancy Bell, his aunt
cross old woman--but she tool
good care of his home, and it was al
the homo she had on earth.


The Irvinghams were the riches
people who lived in the village. II
be sure they only came there sum
mcrs. but the family had Away
lived there in the old fine house, will
its great park and lawn, aud no
houses. which father, before he died
used to be so proud of-for he VA
gardener there thirty years, and moth
or had been Miss Emily's maid wheI
he married her.


Miss Emily was old, and not mar
ried but her brother Alfred, with hi
wife and Miss Louie. used to com
back during the warm weather iron
their home in New York; aud, a
Miss Emily was very kind to me,


used to go there quite Often for sew
ing, aud could do up the 6ne lace
aud rufies for her as no one bu
mother ever did, she said. Then
Miss Louie had been born at tn
Hall. That was before father died
so J. used to go with him, aud SO
her, in the grounds playing, aud pla.
with her, too (for they were yer
good to mo always), and see her wa
dolls, with their silk and laced frock
and her greyhound aud pets. Sh
never felt bit above me--not eve
when she grew TO be young lady
the only heir Of her fathers wealth
when every Summer she came offe


to see NE, saying she loved me q
o woll as her city friends. aud she Al


ways loved the cakes and the othe


little things | used to like TO ix ia
her. But this is not my story, afte
all.


She was the fairest, daintest Iittl
beauty have ssen--not more than


child in her ways and ieelings-ger
tie and kind, aud OIL so very winning


She had the softest, whitest skin, an
. pretty pair Of eyes as pretty as he


spaniel ps--though that is not a pre-


y thing to compare to Miss Loui
And her hairl IL curled in lit
, loose rings when she was child, an
had = dark touch on 10, with a gold