Year: 1871

"hen shadows do begin to fall upon our path


way they deepen and deepen till our spirit


slcken as they grope their way through tn


oarK night, waiting and watching with painfu


eagerness for the dawning of the mornin


suffering. 'e-e ~ ~
One rainy, chilly evening, father complsine,


OF being somewhat unwel and retired to res


earlier than usual. and in the morning, oh
| terrible surprise, he had left us forever. I


was sudden, a dreadful blow to my mother
but she bore it with christian fortitude, bowin,


with meek submission to the will Of Him wht
careth for the widow and the fatherless So


with aching hearts, We consigned him, our STAY
and staff, to the earth.


After this We would have lived on at our olt
farm. but uncle Charles Ruthven, my mother,
only brother, who had resided in Cuba 70;
some years, was then in New York, and hear
ing. OF the death Of his brother-in-law. came tt
Us Immediately, and insisted upon taking US tt
the West Indies, whence he would return short
ly' Much as leaving our old home would cos
u.s. we knew of nothing better than to accept
this proposal, so the farm was leased, and
bade adieu to friends and to our beloved home,
Chestnut Dale, upon the banks of the Della
ware. and left our own land to dwell among
strangers.


Six times nature had been robbed Of her
Summer toliage-six times had the life-adeE
Spring breezes swept earth and ocean, when /
again beheld my native shore. The tropical
climate becoming unsuited to my uncle S
health, he had been persuaded to leave his
business in the hands of his trustworthy part
ner and come back to America, to spend the
remainder of his days with US at Chestnut
Dale. We were to remain In New York few
weeks after our arrival until the homestead
had been made ready for our reception,


80 it was on that balmy June morning, a
long time ago it now seems to me, that | sat
In one OF the rooms Of fashionable hotel in
the heart of the metropolis, awaiting the
breakfast hour. We had only arrived yester-
day and of course had not yet seen any of our
former acquaintance.


Ny heart beat high with Joy as | sat there
painting bright pictures of the future, dream
ing OF the renewal of past pleasures and asso-
Citations,


Edward Saunders and I had corresponded
during my absence from America. Within
the last six months he had not written, or his
letters had not reached me. The thought that
perhaps he was growing negligent had arisen
more than onee,- but suppressed it, as if by
entertaining it, | committed wrong. Tis
true" whispered the good angel, Faith, tbs
true, he has not written, but OF course, there
is some unknown yet plausible excuse which
conquered doubt, and patiently, [ was waiting
for the right time to come From my wa
king dreams | was startled by the breakfast
bell, and promptly obeyed its summons
My mother and uncle joined me il the corridor
and we descended the stairs together. l had
just entered the dinlng-room, when a voice
close beside me said:


There is something strangely familiar in
that face-I must have seen it before, some
where. Can you tell me who it is, Clementa p


mo, / canuot." replied the person ad-
dressed "The party with which she is, came
yesterday, and that is all that can tell you. u


glanced carelessy in the direction of the
voices and uttered an exclamation OF surprise.
Scarcely ten steps from me, stood Edward
Saunders. enough like the boy he was when |
saw him last, for me to recognize him almost
though six years had altered his ap-
was looking dreamily at me as if trying to re-
call something and the next minute came for
ward exclaiming:


1T is you, Hattie, / cannot be mistaken, l
should have known you anywhere.


An il-timed meeting was this, and so sud
den, too. There in the midst Of vain fash
ion s giddy followers. | was conscious that it
was expected of me to say something, and |
confusedly something about being
surprised.


''You are changed, he began.


"Yes," l interrupted, naturally, we are
both greatly changed


He turned away quickly to speak to my
mother. With pang Of disappointment, l
took my seat at the table. The reality was SO
different from the anticipation. My pride was
wounded because he had not seemed half so
glad as l. And tho conscience told me that
my actions justified his, l was not the less dis
satisfied. He might at least have given me
time to have recovered from my surprise. He
would have done so once. Perhaps should
have felt differently if had learned that sad
truth, ''that mature years cheat us Of the
Heaven born faith, which we repose in each
other while life is yet in its bud, and We have
not seen the coldness and selishness of this
world" Coming back was not pleasant after
all, and entered with but little relish upon
that constant routine of gayety and fashion
which belonged to a city life. The supposi-
ton that | was heiress to my bachelor uncle
fortune drew scores of false friends around me,
whose esteem | purchased with my wealth, and
not by any good or amiable quality possessed
by me. was daily thrown into the society of
the friend of my childhood, and light and triv-
ial conversation frequently passed between US.
But every time, the restraint which character
ICED our first meeting seemed giving away
some trifing circumstance would occur to make
US even more reserved than ever. was heart
lily glad when the weeks of June glided by,
for it was arranged that we should leave the
city aud retire to our country home in the be-
ginning of July, The night before our de-
parture scene of unusual interest was to be
acted at the Theatre, and most of the boaIders
from our Hotel went to witness it. Immediate


y after tea, mother, complaining of the exces
sive heat of the weather retired to her room
Uncle Charlie went to call upon some of hi!
old friends, SO l was left to myself, aud enter
ing the deserted parlor [ sat down in the shady
recess of one of the bay-windows, and begar
sadly reviewing the events of the last month
By and by, heard football upon the carpet
and without looking up knew who it was.


Hattie said Mr.. Saunders, and his ton,
was soft and gentle as he knelt beside me OF
the window seat. Hattie, time has changed


US, but not our love. Heaven has given US t,
each other" and that was all he said, and i


was enough. More words, just then, woult


have seemed like vain display. The blu


heavens with its myriads of starry world


smiled upon US, and the night bird chanted hi
lays Our souls met and held communion, ant


the highest and noblest feelings Of our nature


too deep and too sacred tor words, silentl
| blended. There was no mistrust--no barrie
between US now. The world was very beauti
| ful and life very sweet, since We were to max
| the rest of its pilgrimage together. Let com
what would of good or i'll to one, the othe


would share it, so we thought that night, for
| getiul that man may appoint, but God will dis
appoint.


The next evening found us-mother, uucl