Year: 1876

Do you ever judge, reader, of the
character of the inmates from the physl-
ognomy of their houses / do. And
when the stages swept round the corner
I looked out eagerly, for as the driver
had told me, about ten rods up the road
stood the house of Philander White.
His wife was my mothers own cousin,
and 1 was just thirteen years old when I
went there to make my first visit. There
had been some quarrel between the two
families two or three-score years anterior
to my visit; and though my mother and
Mrs. White never participated in this,
the feud of their ancestors had doubt
less involved some coldness between
them.


But to cut long story short-for the
pen and paper gossip may be more dig
nifed but not a whit better than tea
table scandal had been an invalid all
the previous winter.


When soft April days Ito which my
mother looked forward so eagerly came,
they brought no bloom to my cheek, no
vigor to my step. My constitution
seemed to have lost all its recuperative
power; and the doctor said "Send her
into the country, Miss May. If that
don't help her she is lost to YOU"


Just before this Mrs. White had
learned through mutual friend of my
illness, and the very day of the blunt
physicians ultimatum brought letter
to my mother.


"For the sake of my old love-" il
read, "let all that may have come be-
tween you and me be lost in the pleasure
of better memories. The hills of Meadow
Brook are clothed again with greenness,
and now in this late May is the time fol
Jennie to come to us. There is O
prophecy of health for her in the soft
wind that lifts the edge of my paper as
write. We know she is your all, and we
will be very tender of your darling.
Will you not trust her for a single sum-
mer2"


And before another week was passed
my trunk was packed and marked,
"Philander White, Meadow Brook. u
! looked out, as have said, and there
sat the pleasant white house, with its
green window blinds, the shrubbery in
front, and the cherry trees behind. My
heart went out to it, and at once; and il
did moment later to the gentle-voiced
woman and the fair, dark-haired girl
who rushed out on the front steps and
kissed my cheek, said, "Cousin Jennie,
you are very welcome"


But it is not all to tell you of that
summer, though look across the gray
year to its picture in the Maryland OF
my memory that have taken up my
pen this morning. Suffice it that the
mountain breezes OF Meadow Brook did
their work well; and when in early
autumn my mother came for her child,
she could hardly identify the rosy.
checked girl who rushed in with hel
curls dangling about her face and held
up her rosy lips for kiss.


/ think 1T must have been nearly two
months after my domestication at Aunt
Mary's-for so / call my mothers cousin
when Uncle Charles Brace, her hus
bands brother, visited her. He was 8
minister, and Cora and had anticipated
the gentleman's advent with anything
but pleasant emotions. Our precon
ceived notions of the clergyman,
elongated visage and solemn, puritanica
manner, which we regarded as necessar,
concomitants of the profession, soofr
vanished before the beautiful kindlins
of his smile and the winning gentlenesl
of his manner. He was Uncle PHIL
Youngest brother and not more thar
twenty eight at that time; and his re
hgion had deepened and harmonized hi
fine poetic temperament without check
ing the outflow of that under-current O
humor which sparkled through his char