Democratic Sentinel, Volume 4, Number 25, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 30 July 1880 — SUCH IS LTFE. [ARTICLE]

SUCH IS LTFE.

Away back in memory's balls hangs a picture yet undimmed, though years have •ome and gone since the days long ago when [ first knew the reality. An old brick school-house, formerly a chureh, with its broad doors and great arched windows, their buff curtains fluttering lazily in the summer breeze, forms the principal feature. A back-ground of liazy, purple-green hills, and just to the right a group of grand old walnuts, where daily we held our noon picnics, and wove wonderful garlands to decorate the yellowed walls of the old schoolroom, and in front the great gaping ditch, which in a marvelously-short space of time would swallow up the whole school after the bell tapped for recess ; but to me the dearest feature of all was the broad old Mississippi in the distance, rolling along in majestic grandeur, its sparkling wavelets catching the sun’s brightest beams, and throwing them back into the old school-house with redoubled brilliancy. From my s uit near the window I think I never tired of watching its bright waves glimmer and gleam through the swaying green trees. Here, gentle reader, it was that I first knew Ethel Raymond, a tiny, fair-haired girl of perhaps my own-age, always clad in the same pure-white dress with its marvelous number of tucks, and blue silk waist, with low neck and short sleeves setting off her fair childish beauty, though sadly out of place in the dusty old school-room, as was the general opinion from the numerous upturned noses and suppressed titter of the little calico-clad damsels whose manners were not nearly so respectable as their somewliat-faded garments. How long it seemed till recess that first morning, and when it came how we all bounded off to “ our grove,” as we called the walnuts, to surround Mat Bronson, who, with an air of superior knowledge, had informed us that the new-comers lived “just down by her l ouse,” consequently was supposed to know all about them. ‘ ‘ I s’pects they must be awful rich to dress so fine at school,” timidly suggested little Kitty Edwards, as soon as we were settled.

“ Rich, indeed ! ” sniffed Mat; “poor ns Job’s turkey; live in an old shanty just down below our house; ain’t got ■anything in but two or three old chairs, a table and a stove ; awful stuck up, too; My ma went over there, the other day, just to see what kind of people they were, and, my land! Mrs. Raymond was so high and mighty she hardly asked her to sit down. She said under the circumstances she couldn’t be very sociable, which means she’s too poor; ain’t going to send her boy to school, with her present arrangements she can’t, which means he ain’t got anything to wear, you know. Pity he can’t wear the family white, with about half the tucks ripped out; it would be just Long enough for him; with all, you know, it makes quite a stylish Sunday dress for their mother.” “Well, I’d be ashamed, Mat Bronson, to tell such stuff as that,” interrupted one of the girls. “Well, you know I’m never ashamed to tell the truth, and this is a solemn fact; she’s got one of these sewing machines. You just pull the thread and away goes the tucks; it’s got a drawstring in the waist, and when it’s washed and done4ip who knows the difference? Now, my dear schoolmates, don’t look so horror-struck ; I tell you all this as a secret, wouldn’t tell everybody for anything ; as there are only about forty of you, of course it will uever get out,” and, giving her curls a wicked toss, Mat bounded away. s Mat Bronson was the acknowledged leader, and I fear the new scholar would have been sadly neglected but for the ever-thoughtful kindness of our teacher, who seemed never to weary in his efforts entertain and amuse her during the long recess time. I can see them yet, his dark boyish beauty contrasting with hers so fair and childlike. Ernest Emerson, our teacher, had come to us from a neighboring academy, and, though scarcely more than a boy, had won his way both among parents and pupils. A model of perfection and beauty he seemed to us children. The jetty curls lying in damp rings about his white brow, the great lustrous black eyes and faintly-tinted cheeks made up for his only drawback, a lameness, which always made it necessary for him to walk with a cane ; but we soon grew to look upon the little rosewood cane as a part of our teacher, and probably would never have associated it with pain and suffering had he not one day told us of a boy whose reckless propensity for fun and daring exploits had made him a cripple at the age of 14, and a disappointed man for life. This told in a sad, agitated tone of voice convinced us that the wild, reckless boy was no other than our gentle teacher. From that hour we were not only his admiring, but his warm, sympathetic friends, and when he took little lonely Ethel under his especial care we felt a silent rebuke from one whose good opinion we all coveted, and in a short time all hearts were opened to tho little stranger, and when the teacher placed her in the seat beside me we grew

inseparable, and those long, bright summer days seldom found us apart. Ethel’s mother, a delicate, fragile little woman, seldom went nut. Missing Ethel from school several week* after the commencement of the fall term, I begged permission to go and see what was the matter. This I readily obtained ; and, as it was the day before Thanksgiving, also permission to invite my little friend to spend the moHow with me. The dead November grass may have writhed and crackled under my flying feet, but you may be assured none grew as I sped to Ethel. How the bright eyes shone when I told her ! though speedily followed by a shade of disappointment as she said : “Oh! if I only could, but I can’t. Mamma is sick and, anyhow, I haven’t anything to wear.” “ Oh, we’ll soon fix that. You know that red polka dot of mine ? I just hate it, because I can’t breathe but what a hook flies off, and I believe it will just fit you, because you ain’t as fat as I am, and I know mamma is tired of sewing on hooks, and will be ever so glad for me to give it away, so you’re all right there. ” “ Oh, but mamma, you know; she’s real sick! She just coughs all night, aud is so hot. Sometimes I wake up and hear her moan. Then I almost scream, I’m so ’fraid she’s going to die !” and die great eyes dilated with horror. “ Oh, Ethel; you always get scared so easy. Everybody gets sick sometimes, you know. You come to-morrow, and when everybody’s gone I’ll get my mamma to come over and see her and bring her something nice—a Thanksgiving dinner, you know. Won’t that be nice ? Now run and ask her; I must go. Remember, the dress ’ll come tonight.” The next morning, among the first arrivals, was my little friend. How proud and happy I felt when I saw how universally petted and admired she was by the other guests ! That was a bright day to us, but when my mother returned, after accompanying Ethel home, she threw a shadow into our hearts by the sad information that Mrs. Raymond’s was a hopeless case of consumption, and the probability was that Ethel and her brother would be motherless before the spring. “Poor, poor children,” she went on ; “ that Harry of hers is a noble boy; as kind and gentle a nurse as a woman. They are a very refined family, though so oppressed by poverty. Poor Mrs. Raymond ! —hers is a sad story. She told me to-night a good deal of her past history. It seems she was very young when married, as was her husband. He had a nice little sum of money to put into business, but all his business qualifications at that time consisted of a diploma from a leading business college. Just then he received what he considered a very brilliant offer, hi the shape of a partnership with an old, experienced business man, who had more business reputation than either money or honesty, as it afterward proved. To this arrangement an older brother of Mr. Raymond, who was very wealthy, and their only living relative, was violently opposed ; did everything in his power to prevent what, he insisted, must prove only a disastrous experiment, but all without avail; the offer seemed so very flattering, considering Mr. Raymond’s limited practical experience, that it was accepted without hesitation. So the new firm started, and everything was highly satisfactory for a lime. Peace and plenty smiled upon their home, and when little Harry and Ethel came they thought their bliss complete. But the cloud burst unexpectedly. One morning they wakened to find the new firm bankrupt, themselves penniless, the partner having sailed for Europe the night before, taking with him all surplus funds.

‘ ‘ What to do the young husband and wife knew not, but, after numberless unsuccessful attempts to find employment, Mr. Raymond decided to appeal to the older brother, and received in relily a few words, stating that, as he had offered advice before oidy to be rejected, he certainly would not have the impertinence to offer more, but would simply say, as he had furnished the capital and his partner the experience, it was to be presumed the result was satisfactory to both, as he coidd now boast of the experience while his partner was doubtless enjoying the capital, and in consequence of that experience was far more competent to take care of himself than several years ago. Hence interference on his part was entirely unnecessary. J ust after this young Raymond received an offer to go to Europe on rather a meagr i salary. Hopiug to find his miscreant partner he accepted, but in a few days after sailing the vessel was wrecked and the young mother with her two little ones was thrown on her own resources. She struggled on, and with a few music scholars succeeded iu keeping want from her door till, on account of failing health, she was forced to seek change of climate, but too late ; as the winter days wore on she grew worse, and one bright morning in the early spring there fluttered from the door iu the soft, balmy breeze the lieavy black crape, which told the sad hews that death had entered the little cottage and left Harry and Ethel motherless, but not without a friend ; some one, whom we afterward learned was no other than Eugene Emerson, ever on baud with some kind, delicate attention for the invalid, had written to the brother, and at the funeral the little mourners were led by a tall, stately-looking gentleman who, it was whispered, was their rich uncle, come to take them away, which proved true. The next morning, our childish hearts almost bursting with grief, Ethel and I said our good-bys over and over again ere the great lumbering old stage coach carried her away to be the daughter of her rich uncle, who expressed his intention of adopting both the children, he being childless and entirely alone in the world.

Years glided by and an occasional letter from Ethel descriptive of the new life, speaking at first kindly, and then affectionately, of the uncle, whom she soon learned to love and who, she assured us, through unselfish kindness and affection, was endeavoring to make amends to the children for neglect of the parents. Since that bright spring day when I bade Ethel good-by had rolled twelve years, when one morning a letter from Ethel was placed in my hand—still Ethel Raymond, but instead of the lovely child of poverty a brilliant, beautiful and accomplished woman, an heiress and the pet of society. Just having returned from Europe, she had written to me to come to her. It was an affectionate, merry letter, descriptive of the gayeties of. society life, containing a full account of the last conquest, etc., and finally ending up with an imperative demand for my presence at her home Thanksgiving, saying her uncle had given her full liberty to invite what guests she chose for that day, * ‘which will be yourself, uncle, brother Harry and myself.' You see I want only those whom I love for my first Thanksgiving at home, after so long an absence —kind of a family reunion, you know. And now, dearest,” she added, “unless you wish to entail a lifelong misery upon your old friend you must be sure to come.” / I handed the letter over to mamma with a smile, who, after reading it through, quietly remarked, “Well, my dear, I think you can go. ” “ Oh, mamma !” I cried, “go ! when I haven’t a thing fit to wear.” For the same years that had brought wealth and luxury to Ethel Rapmond had brought poverty to me. * ‘ My dear, I think you speak rather sweepingly, do you not ? It seems to 01P that you have a very nice black

cashmere which will do very well for street and church wear. I know, of course, that your wardrobe is not what a young lady would wish on entering fashionable society, but, my dear, it is all you have; and, you know, a lady will appear a lady under all circumstances. Go, child, and enjoy all you can. You remember Ethel once* spent a Thanksgiving with you under similar circumstances, only you were children thenand I presume she has not forgotten it, and a week or two later found me domiciled with my friend. Oh, the happy days lived over again within the sacred precincts of our own room I It was here, the morning of that memorable Thanksgiving, that we had both suddenly subsided into silence after one of our extended conversations. Ethel, seated upon a low ottoman, just opposite my favorite perch on the side of the bed, was busily engaged in undoing the long, heavy braids of her hair, which, when loosened, fell in great golden waves about her shoulders. Suddenly turning, s h merrily cried : “ Why those piercin orbs of midnight darkness fixed upon this innocent countenance, as if to piere e the very depth of my inmost soul ?” ‘ ‘ Don’t be tragic, dear, I was only occupied with my own thoughts,” I interrupted. “A penny for your thoughts, then.” “Well, my dear, I was just wondering how soon that ardent admirer of yours, Col. Blackwell, of the million and mustache, is to claim that little, white hand; the symptoms are quite alarming, and it is time the case was reported.” “ Marry Col. Blackwell, is that what you mean? That will never be. Wo, never ! she added, with a little shiver. I presume you have discovered the Colonel’s standing with my uncle, who has been anxious for years for an alliance between the two families. The Blackwells, you know, are a very aristocratic and wealthy family. The Colonel is handsome, intelligent, good, everything in fact that the world would unanimously vote a good match; but, my dear, she added, with something of a bitter smile, I am so foolish as to think that there is another requisite to happiness which the world usually leaves out of consideration, and that is love, and as I possess none of that (to my happiness, necessary) commodity my uncle’s ambition must be sacrificed and my expectant friends disappointed. ” “ Well, Ethel, pray inform us what kind of a man is to succeed, when the elegant, accomplished and fascinating Colonel fails.” “Well, lam sure I don’t know. I sometimes think that necessary little organ called the heart was left entirely out of my composition, and, consequently, doubt a capability of any unusual amount of affection ; and, under the circumstances, it were better for Ethel Raymond to tread life’s pathway alone than to be an unloving wife, a handsome husband and elegant establishment to the contrary. Do you know I sometimes think,” she added, musingly, “ had the gentle voice and tender smile of Eugene Emerson, our boy teacher, been known to me in maturer years, things might have ”

“ Ah, indeed I” I interrupted, with a merry laugh. “So, after all.it is not the lack of affection that is so disastrous to our friend, the Colonel. Only in the wrong direction; that’s all. Come, now, confess. Confession, you know’, is good for the soul. ” “No, no; you are too fast. I was only a little child in those days, you will remember. ” “Well, then lam to understand the only serious effect then was to destroy any germ of affection which might spring up in after years.” ‘ ‘ Well, perhaps; I believe you always did possess the faculty of tracing things down to a fine point.” “ Wiiere is he ?” I inquired. “Do you know anything of him ?” “I have heard nothing for a long time. He used to write to me occasionally in my childhood days, and once when in the city had the audacity to call, as my uncle expressed it, of which fact I was not informed for some time after. Then my uncle told me that he thought it best that our acquaintance should end, and, I presume, gave him to understand the same, as I have never received any letters since. He is now editing a country newspaper somewhere in the West, I believe, and I occasionally find articles from his pen in our leading scientific journals, which even uncle is forced to admit are very fine. But come, my dear ; if we go to church this morning we must hasten our preparations. ” In a few moments I was ready, waiting for Ethel, who, in her navy blue silk, velvet cloak, ermines, and jaunty hat with its long. Avaving white plume, Avas indeed a fair picture to look upon, as she caught up the long train of her elegant dress, preparatory to starting. Little we thought of the disaster that was to befall that same train ere our return. When service Avas over we started home in a great hurry, as it was very late. I had just landed safely on the other side of the crowded street when, hearing a terrific whoa from the cardriver, I turned just in time to see Ethel caught from under the very horses’ feet. She had hurriedly crossed the track just in front of the car Avhen her dress caught and jerked her back, and in another moment she Avould have been trampled under the horses had not a strong arm caught her while the car passed on, taking almost the Avhole of the soft, shimmering train Avith it. And, as soon as Ethel Avas released, I was surprised to see her turn and joyfully extend both hands to the stranger avlio had so gallantly rescued her. Retaining one of the hands, he placed it in his arm, and in a moment they Avere beside me. A glance at her escort assured me that he was no other than the subject of our morning discussion. Of course we took possession of our old friend, and, calling a carriage, were soon safely deposited at home. It was, indeed,a happy little party that gathered around the dinnertable that day. Even Ethel’s haughty uncle was very gracious and grateful, and gave our friend a Avarm welcome. Ah, a merry party we Avere that evening —Ethel, Eugene, Harry and I —as we sat in the Avarm glow of the bright grate fire, whose flickering light we would not suffer dimmed by lighted gas; how we laughed, chattered, and finally drifted back to the days of yore. A regular experience meeting we had, each relating his or her own varied fortune. But another story I read in the eyes of our friend Eugene as I slipped aAvav, soon followed by Harry, who found his presence sadly ignored. That old, old story, which I afterward learned he had come from his far Western home to tell to the blue-eyed Ethel, whose image his heart had ever held ; and a few weeks later I stood beside my friend that snow-clad Christmas morning in the softly-lighted parlor, fragrant Avith the breath of the lovely white blossoms peeping out from every niche, and nestled down among the holly and evergreen, silent Avitnesses of that short, impressive ceremony, which gave Eugene and Ethel back to each other after the many days when each had thought the other lost.— Chicago Ledger.