Rensselaer Union, Volume 11, Number 14, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 19 December 1878 — A NEW-YEAR’S CALL. [ARTICLE]

A NEW-YEAR’S CALL.

“ Mazwelton'a braes are bonnie. Where early fa's the dew; • And 'twas there that Annie Laurie Gave me her promise true, Gave me her promise true, Which ne’er forgot will be: And for honme Annie iAnrie 1 dlay me down and deo. It was my favorite song. I looked up from the desk where 1 was writing, as the fresh, young voice rang loud and clear on the summer air, and, drawing the window curtains a little aside, peeped out at a young girl in my neighbor's garden. A young girl as pretty,, as blopming, as pure-looking as the delicate white roses—blushing faintly in unconsciousness of their beauty—that had stolen from their own trellis to climb the « -arbor, by the side of which, ck the fairest and sweetest, for a moment she singing stood. Then, for another moment or two, she flitted hither and thither among the other flowers, the-sun making gold of her flowing hair, until some one called “ Milicent” from the house, and trilling the last line again ‘‘l’d lay me down and dee” like a meadow lark, she vanished from my sight. My neighbor didn’t, know I was his neighbor, though I was perfectly aware he was my neighbor. I will explain. The cottage in Ap«ind, of whjch I was occupying tpe nd-floor,, belonged to old friend of mime wno had gdrfe abroad. Kifow-* ing that I was anxious to secure a secluded country home for a month Qr. two of the summer that I might finish and revise—well, no matter what, but a work, I flatter myself, of some importance, he had kindly offered me the use of the rooms as long as I chose to remain. Entire seclusion was my object in going to my friend's cottage, and that was thoroughly understood by the old housekeeper, who never made her appearanoe excepting at meal-time, and who had mentioned my arrival to no one in the neighborhood. After dark I used to let rnystff dot at a side gate effectually screened from view by a group of grand old apple trees, and stroll about for an hour or two and then let myself in again with-, out anyone being the wiser’. -4 Not a difficult proceeding, however, I must admit, as my neighbor’s house and my friend’s house wsre about hall a mile from thh"village on 1 withjabout two miles of dense woodland on the other.

They had originally been built for twin sisters who, marrythg, refused to be utterly separated from each other, so only a low fence divided the front lawns and back gardens. My neighbor, as I had discovered by peeping at him on sundry occasions, was an elderly, stout gentleman, with keen, dark eyes, shaggy eyebrows, decidedly florid complexion, stubby nose, stubby beard, stubby hands and a projecting chin and upper lip. ills household consisted of his wife, a motherlylooking old lady, as stout as himself, a cook as stout as her mistress, a coachman and gardener as stout as the cook, a rough-coated awkward dog, answering to the name of “ Bub," and a shaggy pony called “ Sis.” Well, here 1 had been domiciled for two weeks, writing away as for dear life—as totally lost to the world as though I had never existed, until the morning when I heard the meadow lark singing “Annie Laurie.” Who could she be? She didn’t resemble my neighbor or my neighbor’s wife in the least. I resolved to find out, if possible, and sp the next morning I said, carelessly, to the old housekeeper, when she brought up my toast ana coffee, “Have the elderly couple next door any children P” “ No, sir," was the reply, “ not a chick or child, which 1 don’t mean they haven’t chickens, air, for they have, only as the saying is. Never have had, though they’re awful fond of ’em. Seems to me as folks that are awful fond of young ones never has ’em; p’r’aps that's the reason they’re so fond of ’em, not knowing wbat a worry and care they are, falling into ponds, and out of trees, and down stairs, and getting the cholera morbus with eating unripe fruit ” p “ And the young lady,” I interrupted, dipping a crust into ray coffee and nodding toward my neighbor’s garden, “whom I heard singing yesterday was-—.” “ Their nieoe, sir, and is to hav4 all the money when she comes of age if she don’t displease her uncle. You see, sir, Miss Milicent’s mother lived next door, and her aont, her mother’s twin sister, lived here. They wore the lovingest sisters you ever knew, and died within a few daya of each other, one leaving a daughter, Miss , Millie, and Sxer a sop, Mr. Chaster, and Mr brother, though -oh looked no more like them than you do, and he’s the guardian, and Miss Milicent’s to marry her cousin, and he’s expected hero oh a visit this very day.” I couldn’t tfiU for the life of me why a ill my coffee on the snowy white eCloth and choke myself,. withlbU; last fragment of toast, but 1 do, and' the old womah hastens to my side, and

thump* me upon Uin back with all the force of which she is Capable, and^aays, fton’t do it again, i£r, to whatadread^ mysterious, and me p’r’aps accused of murder.” With which pleasing remark she hurries away to answer a ring at the front door bell, and then returns to tell warn as ehe-Mnwve* t«o dishes that the oousiii has oom* • The dtivermade a mistake and stopped at our. door instead of Mr: CfAroner’s.I*-ABd 1 *- ABd jr*v**y ■fee-appearing young man-he is, too, qpe oil those saeaiwho look as though they Whfilfljnske goofT-husteuHl* '*** excrifewt providers, Odd Ahe glances wormy shared RmersdnV artists and people of that ilk in regard to their taking cace of thdmaalves**nd had at doubt at all as to their utter incapability of taking care of anyone else. Brniitent over I weak Brf woiic again, -that Is, I tried thgoto.teork* butniy efforts were in vain. “ Annie Laurie” kept running in my Mad and t jumbled my historical facts and tbs words or the sweet Scotch song together in such^ Wild confusion that at last I gave up sh despair, And pushing my writing material away I determined to refresh my eves and brain bV taking a look' it my neighbor’s beautiful garden. As I peeped between the blinds Bub oame tearing out like mad, rat} around thy grape-arbor three times, snapped at a grasshopper, jumped over me low fence into the meadow, made some communication to Sis, who was grazing there, and get back in time to meet the two people who came sauntering up the garden walk. Milicent and the ooasin, a tall, slim, sharp-faced, passably, good-looking young fellow with hie hair parted in the middle, a bide necktie ana a faultless au turner suit. I glanced in the mirror at my own obstinate, curly, brown crop that refused to be parted anywhere, my cravatted neck and nay well-worn blue flannel, and I began to hate him. Milicent walked beside him, her fair head drooping and a smile upon her lips. She was”dressed in white and had a pink rose clinging to her carls, and one m her bosom, and of halfopened buds at her belt, and She plucked another from the vine and fastened it with her oacp pretty hands into the button-hole of her cousin’s immaculate oont From that moment I hated him and from that moment my work ceased to, progress, and I took to walking up and down my rooms in- tha. daytime and strolling about the garden half the night In a few days—they seemed like months to me—‘‘Mr. Chester,” as the housekeeper called hfln, went away , again. ~ - ’ - ’ I blessed the driver, the hors As, the very carriage that took him back to town, for I—you have’ guessed It, I suppose—was wildly in love with my neighbor's fair-haired nieoe. Well, one night I was swinging in the hammock that hung iq. the midst li the group of bid apple trees, Swinging ana thinking of her, when I gradually ceased swinging and thinking and wfchderetPitftb thojandm dreartrt. ‘And a voice, a sweet,. familiar voice followed me there, and l heard it say, “ But, auntie, I do not love my cousin; and should a woman many a man she does not lovwP”-

“No, by Heavens! No!” I shouted, springing from the hammock, still half asleep. Two shrieks, a scampering, a loud bark and my neighbor’s garaen was deserted. -‘ ■ Early the next morning I heard Mr. Gardner loudly and angrily -questioning the meek old housekeeper. “ Wished to remain in hiding, did kft?” he shouted—“ oh, so as to write undisturbed?” And then, sarcastically, “ a very pretty. but slightly improbable, v anda.very pretty young man listening—the fipy—to the conversation of two ladieap and rudely joining in with a voice like thunder, searing them nearly out of their senses. Where is he, this retiring young fellowP This exclusive author? By Heaven! if he do not come out to me I will go in to him!” 1 rushed down stairs and confronted him at.his own gate, my eyes flashing and rily Voice trembling with passion. “1 am no listener, no spy,” I said: “A was sleeping in my hammock and was suddenly awakened by a very emphatic question Annie Lau—that is, MiUc—l moan your nieoe asked her companion. In the confusion of the moment, I answered the question as emphatically as it was asked. If I have frightened and offended the young lady I humbly ask her parddn, but 1 warn you, sir, to call me no more opprobrious nataeb.” Milicent came out on the porch and glanoed atme shyly. “-He doesn’t look very wicked, uncle,” she said, in a low voioe, with a gleam of mischief in her •yes, m and 1 firmly believe" what he, says and freely forgive him for the fright he gave me.” i bowed and turned away, .and a moment after I heard a rippling laugh, and then in a few moments more the verse of the song she had sung when first she gladdened my tired eyes: “ Maxwelton's braes an bonnie ' Where early fa's the dew, dad H was then that Annie Learie Gave me her promise true, Chan me her promise true, Which ne'er forgot will be; After that I boldly threw open the window blinds and smiled down on her and she smiled up at me. Then 1 asked her for a rose over the fence one day, and she gave it to me. Then we met in tho meadow and discoursed of the manifold virtues of Bub and Sis. Then one blessed August afternoon (set in my memory like a great, pure pearl—it was just alter a shower, and the earth wore one broad smile of sunshine and the birds sang as though they would burst their stenderr throats), she came to the meadow-gate—a spray of honeysuckles in ber bosom—and I said, “ I love you —afid youP’ “Why,” she answered dropping the long lashes over her beautiful eyes and speaking with sweet hesitation, “4—-love*-yoa. ’’ . ,4 - I kissed her pretty mouth. “ Mjy darling,” I said, “ you have been my darling ever since that bright June morning I heard you singing ‘ Annie JLanrie’ to the roses,” “ And you mine,” she replied, footing in my face with bewitching, saucy frankness, “ ever since the morningyou flew ootafc though shot from a cannon —ypur the wildest disorder, with no collar, let alone a cravat On, and defied my uncle. I thought you simply delicious -so dis- « ferent from anyone I had ever seen before—so very Unlike my cousin! But Elmer,” and a shade stole Over her

bright face. “ unde will jwver. never consent to—to—” “ Our marriage, my dearest!” “YiS, to our marriage, for hehas set his heart on my marrying Chester, and he’s my guardian, and Fmonly nine- ' * Only be true to me, MUioent,” I interrupted, “ and I’ll wait for you patiently—faithfully—only say that your promise-” • , SJhtWM forgot aeeg she. *t Aal V' I took ft* the aong,sf<* gtonnie Annie Ujjftrie, IMday iy—” but Uncle Gardner— his shaggy eyebroWs bent in an onainons froVrw- stood before Be.- -Me ,h*4 returned dUpgl bfflinesA] modi earllAr-thtei usual «i*t‘alten*oon,' yd that Mpadsnipg Bub had broughh Ceased 'dreaming about her, my Mm-' cnnthadlbeea spirited away. • ,4’4 Apd in a week’s tiiflo--what a long, wretched, dreary week It was!—l bad left Aptoelaod an*~wa#- omm more iastailed In myattleden in the attja of a great lodging house in the noisy city. And tp keep the sorrow ffoar breaking my heart I worked like a fiend, and the book, to which 1 have referred before, ctme out and reached the third edition and I came down from the attio to the second floor front*, and doffed my flanniebsuit for something toorA seasonable. Autumn passed awAy and winter came, and spring followed, and summer brought her roses, and thempame, autumn again, and la turn retired for the months of offid Avery day hope grew less and less bright, for I had not npjird one word of my lost darling. r~ - - ‘ -3 The second New Year’s Day sinoe out, separation dawned bright and-cold, and- as I came up gasping from the basin of icy water, Into which I had plunged my head, Dick Yan Clove danced in from the nett room, in extreme dishabille, vaulted over a chair or two, tossed my shaving mug in the air and caught jt- cloverly, aa<l then asked: “Going to make c^llsP” “Make calls?” repeated I,contemptuously. “Did you ever know me tolo such a silly thingPf ; ' * "Oh! I don’t mean the regular bush ness,” said he, “ only a friendly dfop-in on some of our fellow women writers.” “ There's that little Clark gir|’ she’d be delighted to' see you—thought you looked vastly entertaining—more than 1 did—and she’s a poor, young thing, and very lonely, needs cheerful companionship. They say she Ipst her lover a year or so ago, went abroad and never came back again.” M l*ll go," j, , “ That’s a good fellow, andwe’U take her something nice to eat by way of a New Year’s gift. Don’t believe she gets anything nice in that dirigy old boarding-house,” and pick pirouetted out again to oomplete his toilet,' An hour found ns crossing - • avenue, on our way to the old-fash- ' ioned street where dwelt the little Clark girl, where, pausing a moment to give a cent or two to w poor child who had just left the basement of a handsome, brpwp stone mflnyiofl, arbipc rang out from the drßWing-A-odn ahbvs that sent all the blood -madly leaping ' u Where early fa’sithe dew, . ' And 'ttras' there thjit Annie Ltnrie Gave me her promise true, ‘ 1 Gave me her promise true, Which ne'er forgot will to; , .And for honme Annie Laurie I'd lav me down and dee. I grasped my friend’s arm and held him until the last note died away. “ I have a call to make here,” I said then. “By Jove!” he exclaimed, “are you sure. This is no end of swell.” I ascended the steps, walked without a word past the colored servant who opened the door, straight into the parlor. She had just risen from the piano, and with a cry of joy she flew, to jny arms. The uncle, the aunt, the cousin were there. , “ Dear uncle,” she said, turning hep* Ipvely face toward him, while my arms still Anfelded her, “release ran from my promise, I beg yqji. I have tried to wait patiently, but he has found mq, and we love each other, and come what may will never, never be parted again. Wish us a happy New Year. Dear aunt, dear cousin, speak for us.” “ God bless meP’ said the uncle. “Ours was a love match, Robert,]’ whispered the old lady. “I hope you may be very happy, Milicent,’’ said the copsin, - 1 “God bless me!” repeated Uncle Gardner again, “and God bless you, my dear, and the young man, too, fur that matter, although he has interfered so seriously with my. cherished plans. But if you’ve fully made up your minds not to part again, 4 come what may,’ why there’s no more to be said except that 1 wish you both a.happy New Year.”— Margaret Eytinge, m Detroit Free Dress.