Rensselaer Semi-Weekly Republican, Volume 35, Number 42, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 30 January 1903 — Sunny Bank Farm [ARTICLE]

Sunny Bank Farm

- QBtAFTKR il.-TrjConUnueJ.j Not loot after breakfast was over, jjto* commenced dressing Lizzie rnd Oirrie. and as she had herself to bean- • ttfy before the arrival of the train which eras to bring my ancle and aunt, it is not ■urprising that she hurried rather faster than was wholly agreeable to the little girl, who could see no good cause for such taste, even if Herbert Langley—my aunt’s son, and a youth of seventeen — was to accompany her. I, however, who was older, read things differently; i.tid When Anna pulled Lizzie’s curly hair and washed Carrie’s nose up instead of dow n. Until they both cried, and when she. herself stood before the glass a whole half hour, arranging, just in front of her Mrs, two “spit curls,” sometimes called **beau catchers,” 1 shrugged my shouljders, wondering if she thought a city poy would care for her. The morning train from Boston was line about ten. o’clock, and as Suuny Bank did not then boast a daily omai>na. It was necessary that some one ihould be at the depot in order to meet Bor expected guests. At nine o'clock lather and old Sorrel started for the lepot. which was distant about two and l half miles. Long and wearisome to us Shildren was that waiting for his return —for stiff and prim as starched white R pro ns and best gowns could make us, re sat in a row like so many automatons, scarcely daring to move, lest we ihould displace some article of dress. In. he best chamber—the room which Aunt Charlotte was to occupy—a cheerful wood fire was burning, nnd at least a dozen times did grandma go np there to see if all were right—now smoothing the clean linen pillow case, now moving the large easy chair a little more to the center of the rdom, and again wiping from the mirror some imaginary specks of dust. 1 As she was coming down the twelfth time, the sound of sleigh bells took us all to the window, where, instead of the costly furs "and rich velvet wrappings of Aunt Charlotte, we saw'the coarse plaid lhawl and dark delaine hood of Aunt Betsey, while at her side was the shaggy overcoat and sealskin cap of her better half, Uncle Jason. This worthy couple, food enough iu their way, lived in Union, about nine miles from Suuny Bank, where, for the last ten years, they had been in the habit of .spending Thanksgivjbig without ever seeming to think it possible for them to return the compliment. 'Although we had never seen Aunt Charlotte, we knew full well that there was Nothing in common between her and Aunt Betsey, and after a long consultation it scad been decided not to invite the latter, who, as it proved, did not deem an invitation necessary. Uncle Jason was my father’s halfbrother, and the step-son of grandma, who, the moment she saw them, exclaimed: “What sent them here?” Before nny of us could reply, the door burst open, and the loud, boisterous laugh of Uncle Jason greeted our ears, intermingled with the squeaky tones of Aunt Betsey, who, addressing my mother, said, “How d’ye dew, Fanny? You pretty well? 1 s’pose you're lookin’ for us, though you didn't ■end us no invite? Jason kinder held off about cornin’; but I telled him ’twas enough eight easier to eat dinner here than to cook it to hum.” With as gooid a grace as she could possibly assume, mother returned her greeting, and then, taking her into her own bedroom, asked her to remove her bonnet, at the same time telling her she was expecting Uncle Joseph and Aunt Charlotte from Boston. “Now, you don’t «ay It,” exclaimed Aunt Betsey. “Now, dew tell if that puckerin’ thing is a-comin’! How nipped up we shall have to be! I’m so glad I wore this gown!” she continued, looking complacently at her blue and white plaid, the skirt of which was very short and scanty, besides being trimmed at the bottom with two narrow ruffles. With her other peculiarities Aunt Betsey united that of jealousy, and after getting herself warm, and looking round, as was her custom, she commenced with, “Now, if I won’t give up! A fire in the parlor chamber! I s’pose Charlotte's too good to pull off her things in the bedroom, as I do. Waal, it’s the luck of some to be born with a silver spoon iu their mouth." Grandma, who was the only person present except myself, made no answer, and after a moment Aunt Betsey continued: “Now I think on’t, Miss Lee”—she never addressed her as “mother,” for, from the first, a mutual dislike had existed betwen them —“now I think on't. Miss Lee, mebby Fanny meant to slight me."

“Fanny never slighted anybody.’’ was grandma's reply, while her polished knitting needles rattled with a veugeance. “Waal, I gness she thought Jo's wife and I wouldn’t hitch bosses exactly, but the land knows that 1 don’t care the anap of my finger for her. I’m as good as anybody, if I don’t keep a hired maid and have a carpet on every floor.” q Here she was interrupted by the sound of horses’ feet, and rising up, grandma said. “I guess they’ve come. Will you go and meet them?” “Not I; I’m the last one to creep. I can tell you,” was Aunt Betsey's reply, while grandma and I quitted the room, leaving her sitting bolt upright, with her feet on the fender and her lips pursed up, as they always were when she was indignant. Uncle Joseph, Aunt Charlotte, Herbert Languey, had already come; and as the latter leaped upon the ground nnd I caught a sight of his tall, slender figure, I Involuntarily exclaimed. “Long-legs," t cognomen which he ever after retaiued our family. “I shall like him.” my mental comment aa I turned him toward the bundle of clothes which Uncle Joseph lifted from the sleigh and deposited upon the steps, and which we gnpposed to be our dreaded aunt’s. “This Is perfectly horrible,” was the Unit words which issued from under the folds of her veil; but to what she referred I never knew. We all knew and loved Uncle Joseph, and for his sake my mother conquored whatever prejudice she felt toward his wife, who returned her cordial welcome with the ‘extreme end of her forefinger, aa/iug, when asked to sit down. “I’ll go

BY FLOYD LIVINGSTON

to my-room immediately, if you-pioase.” “Speak to the children first,”' suggested" my uncle; and with a muttered,, “It doesn’t matter,” the haughty lady bowed coldly to us, as one by one we were presented. When it came my turn, her small black eyes rested longer upon me, and the faintest derisive smile imaginable curled the corners Of her mouth. I knew’ that either my cap or niy face had provoked that smile, and with tears in my eyes I was turning away, when Herbert Langley caught me in liis long arms, exclaiming, “And so this is Rosa, the poetess; I mean to call you little ‘Crop-head’— may T?” Ho referred, I suppose, to a letter which I had once written in rhyme to my uncle Joseph; but before l could frame any reply, his mother said, scornfully, “Don’t be flattered, child; Herbert calls everything poetry that rhymes. He’ll learn to discriminate better as he grows older;" and with a stately sweep she left the room, saying, as she reached the rather steep and narrow staircase, “Dear me! How funny! It’s like moulting a ladder.” While she was making her toilet we had an opportunity of learning something of Herbert, who, wiiether he were so or not, seemed much pleased with everything around him. Occasionally, however, I doubted liis sincerity, for when Aunt Betsey was presented to him, he appeared quite as much delighted with her as with anything else, drawing his chair closely to her side, and asking her numberless questions about the best modes of making cheese and raising chickens, while all the time there was a peculiarly quizzical expression in his eyes, which were dark and very handsome. To Anna and her “spit curls” he took kindly, and ere his lady mother made her appearance a second time be had put his arm round her twdee, telling her she should come to Boston some time and go to school. A rustle of silk upon the stairs announced the descent of Aunt Charlotte, and with her uose slightly elevated, ready for any emergency, the entered tbfc parlor, whero she was introduced to Aunt Betsey, who, courtesying straight down, “hoped to see her well,” adding that she “s'posed she’d come to the country to see how poor folks lived.” Failing hack Into the rocking chair which. Anna brought for her. Aunt Charlotte made no particular reply, save an occasional attack upon her hartshorn. Aunt Betsey, however, nothing daunted, endeavored to engage her in conversation by asking if “she knew Liza Ann Willcott, a tailoress girl, that boarded with-a Miss Johnson, who used to live in Union, but who now lived in Boston.” Frowning LSajestically, Aunt Charlotte replied that she had not the honor of Miss Willcott’s acquaintance; whereupon Aunt Betsey advised her to make it by all means, assuring her that “Liza Ann was a first-rate girl, and that Miss Johnson was the best kind of a neighbor, always willin’ to lend, or do a good turn." Aunt Charlotte turned away and began talking in a low tone to Herbert. It is strange how much constraint one person can sometimes throw over a room full. On this occasion, had an ogress suddenly alighted in our midst. We could not have been more silent or less at ease than we were with that Boston lady, sitting there so starched and stiff. Even Uqelo Joseph, whose genial nature usually shed so much sunlight over our circle, was grave and reserved. Uncle Jason, who painfully felt his own awkwardness, vat tipping back in his chair against tne \v#H, with his feet on the rounds, while his lingers kept time to a tune, which he was evidently whistling to himself. Glad w#re we all when finally called to dinner, the savory smell of which had long l*en whetting our appetites. “What! dinner so soon?” said Agnt Charlotte, consulting her gold watch, which pointed to half past two. “I dett’t believe I can force down a mouthful. 1 *

But, in spite of her belief, she did manage to make way with the contents of her well-filled plate, which was passed back a second time to be replenished. So eager were we all to serve her that we partially forgot Aunt Betsey, who, after waiting awhile for a potato, at last arose, and reaching half way across the table, secured one for herself, saying, by v, ay of apology, that “she believed in lookiug out for Number One, for if she didn't nobody else would.” So incenggd was she with what the, termed our neglect that the moment dinner was over she insisted upon going home, saying, as she bid us good-bye, that “when she went again where she wasn’t wanted she guessed she should know it;” and adding, while two big tesrs dropped from the end of her nose, that "she never s’posed she should be so misused by folks that she'd done so rnuth. for.”

The sight of her tears brought forth answering ones from me, for, -with all htr peculiarities, I loved Aunt Betsey, and I remembered that when sickness arid death were among us she had left her own home to stay with us, miuistcring us far as she was able to onr comfort. I liked her far better than I did my Boston aunt, who, after bidding her sister-in-law good-bye, went back to the parlor, saying to her husband in a tone loud enough for us to hear. “What a vulgar creaturwl Did you notice her hands? Why, they are as coarse and black as a servant girl’s.”

“And she’g none the worse for that/’ interposed grandma, warming up in defense of her son’s wife. “She has n*w and then an odd streak, but on the whole she’s better than they'll average.” . !t After this, Aunt Charlotte relapaad ioto silence, which she did not until she overheard Herbert proposing io Anna a ride on the morrow. Then she roused up, and while her little black ey« snapped, she said: > ~ “I am going home to-morrow afternoqa, and ao are you. . Consequently there’ll be no time for a ride.”

The noxt morning Aunt Charlotte did not appear at breakfast, it being so much earlier than her usual hour of rising. Accordingly, though we did not wait, the table did nnril yj* o’clock, when, pale and languid, shg came down, scciniug much disturbed to find that Herbert had coaxed Anna into going with him to call

Aunt Betsey, to whom ho had take* quite a fancy. Darting an angry glance at her hnoli and, she said: “How could you suffeaf it?” asking at the same time if there was a hotel on the road. Being told that there was one at Union and Another half way between that and*Sunny Bank, she seemed more disturbed than eVer, eating little or no breakfast, and announcing her intention of staying over that day, or, at all events, until Herbert Seating herself at the window, she watched and Waited,«while the hours crept on and the clock in grandma's room struck four ere the head of “old Sorrel” was visible far down the road. TheiPYsTEE Sn eagernoHs wholly incomprehensible to me, she started up, straining her eyes anxiously in the direction of the fastapproaching cutter. As it came nearer we all observed something rather singular in the position of Herbert, who seemed lying almost across Anna’s lap, whila she was driving! “Merciful heavens! it’s as I feared!” was Aunt Charlotte’s exclamation, as the sank upon the lounge, moaning bitterly, and covering her face with the cushion. Lifting him out, my father and uncle laid him upon the settee in the sitting room, just where little Jamie had been laid, and my mother, as she looked, upon the senseless inebriate resting where onco had lain the beautiful, inanimate form of her youngest born, thought how far less bitter was her cup of sorrow than wag that of the half-fainting woman, who would rather, far rather, her boy had died with the dew of babyhood upon his brow than to have seen him thus debased nnd fallen.

The story was soon told, my uncle supplying all points which Anna could not. It seems that early in life Herbert had acquired a love for the wine nnd porter which daily graced his mother's dinner table. As he grew older his taste increased for something stronger, until now nothing save brandy could satisfy the cravings of his appetite. More than oncs had he been brought home in a state of entire unconsciousness—it usually taking but one glass to render him perfectly foolish, while a second was generally sure to finish the work. These fits were always followed by resolutions of amendment, and it was now so long since lie had drunk that his mother began to have strong hopes of his. reform; but those, alas! were now dashed to the ground. Unfortunately, Uncle Jason had offered the young man a glass of cider, which immediately awoke in its full vigor his old love for ardent spirits. Just across the road, creaking in the November wind, hung the sign of the “Golden Fleece,” 4pid in that direction, soon after dinner, Herbert bent his steps, taking down at one time a tumbler two thirds full of raw brandy. This made him very talkative and Very affectionate, insomuch that he kissed Aunt Betsey, who, as soon as she could, started him for home. When the half-way house—called, in opposition to its neighbor, “Silver Skin” —was reached, Herbert insisted upon stopping and taking another gTass, which ere long rendered him so helpless that Anna was obliged to take charge of Sorrel herself, while her companion fell asleep, leaning his head upon her shoulder and 'gradually sinking lower and lower until he rested in her lap. ' All that night he remained in the sitting room. When fully restored to consciousness he seemed heartily ashamed of himself, crying like a girl, and winding his arms around his mother’s neck so affectionately that I did not blame her when she forgave him and wiped away her tears.

She might not have had much faith in his sincerity could she have heard his conversation with Anna, whom he managed to withdraw from the family to the recess of n distant window. Alone with her, his manner changed, and with flashing eyes he charged it to his mother, who, he said, first taught him to love it by allowing him, when a little boy, to drink the bottom of the wine glasses after dinner.

“And if I fill a drunkard’s grave,” said he, “she will be to blame; but,” he added, as he saw Anna involuntarily shudder, “it shall not be. 1 can reform. I will reform, and you must help me do it.” Anna looked wonderingly at him, while he continued, taking her hand and removing from it a plain gold ring, which grandmn had given her on her fifteenth birthday. “You must let me wear this as a talisman to protect me from evil. Whenever I am tempted I shall look at it and be saved.”

Anna hesitated awhile; but the soft, handsome eyes of Herbert Langley had woven around her a spell she could not break, and at last she consented, receiving from him in return a diamond ring, which he told her was worth two hundred dollars. When this became known to nuglier, she very wisely insisted on Anna's returning it, and together with the note explaining the why and the w’lierefore, it went back to its owner, who immediately replied by a letter, the contents of which were carefully kept from us all. The effect, however, was plainly visible; for, from the time of its receipt we lost our merry, light-hearted sister, and in her place there moved among us a sober, listless girl, whom grandma called foolish, and whom Charlie pronounced “love sick.” Herbert's letter was soon answered; but when Anna requested my father to put it in the postoftlce, he refused. Possibly it was wrong in him, for kind words and persuasive arguments might have won her to reason; but now a spirit of opposition was roused. “Herbert was wronged misunderstood,” so Anna thought, and the letter which father refused to take was conveyed by other hands, a postscript longer than the letter itself being first added. After this there was no more trouble. Anna wrote regularly to Herbert, who promptly responded—his missives always being directed to one of Anna's schoolmates, who was just romantic enough to think her companion persecuted. Gradually I was let into the secret, and was occasionally employed to carry Anna’s notes to and from the house of her friend. I did not then consider the great wrong I was doing. (To be continued.)