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About The courier. (Lincoln, Neb.) 1894-1903 | View Entire Issue (Aug. 19, 1899)
THE COURIER. first went. She was a good worker aa stood with a wrinkled hand on either a good girl, and a powerful help tome side of the door looking out and seeing aa well aa a Bight o' comDany. She nothing sighed a little. "But she done well, and I can't complain. 'Twasn't to be ex pected she'd stay to home always. Jim's a good worker too. Stiddy as old sorrel Bob and twict as willin'. I guess he'll git on in the world it there is any'sich thing aa gittin' on. He's got a good start." She emptied the last pan and set it on top of the pile she had collected at one end of the table. Then ranging her clean pans in a row she began to strain the milk. "Mollie seems bb happy as a queen. Writes like the thought they never was sich another man before nor since Wal, it's a good thing sha c'n feel so Tain't always a wife lives two year with a man without flndin out he's a long way from perfect 'nd a long way from knowin' it nil. Ain't you feelin' well tonight, father? You seem kind o' still like." "I ain't feelin' j ist to say spry, some way. 1 can't git around like 1 used to. I don't git the half done in a day 'nd I'm all played out at night. Things is layin' at loose ends round the place, too, 'nd nobody t' Beet' anj thing. I found the back pastur fence all down t'day 'nd the cows all out into the corn Held. The men was puttin' up hay in the back medder. but they never see nothin'. They don't pay no attention. Whaddy they care? That's another thing. They got enough hay layin' t' keep 'em all hustlin' fer a week, and rain likely t' come on any day 'nd spoil it, fore it's half up. 'Nd when I went down there t'day there they was runnin1 two mow in' machines gittin' more down. They don't pay no attention to me. They think I'm old, 'nd they c'n do aB they please. Lafe Moore as good as told me he was runnin that hay gang. I've seen the day," continued the old man, raising his fist and bringing it down on his knee with a thwack, "when I wouldn't have had no sichrd6in's around me if I put up every fork full of hay on the place myself! But I'm past it, I'm past it." He sat sklent for a moment. "If George was here," he began, "I tell ye things "lid be diff'runt. I want t' tell ye they hopped around lively when George was on hand. 'Nd if anything was needed he was the lad to fix it. Why, yistidday when John broke a tooth out o' the buck rake, I'm blest if he didn't putter round the whole after noon makin' a new one 'nd puttin' it in. Why if George'd been here, he'd a had that rake tooth in, in no time. They wouldn't a lost a halt an hour. That's jist the trouble. George is gone and I've lost my holt." "See it ye c'n git a holt on Ibis lamp 'nd this milk pail," said Mother cheer fully, as she gathered up her pans. He took them silently and preceded her to the kitchen where he put the lamp on the table and sat down beside it, after he had tilled his pail with hot water and carried it to Mother in the pantry. Mother vibrated from pantry to range "scaldin' up the milk thinga'' and rang ing them in a shining row on the pantry shelf. "I guess," she waa saying, "that things is a good deal at sixes and sevens, 'nd gracious knows! I hate to have you worryin' with the men 'nd the work, but we ain't either of ub flndin' fault with George fer doin what he thought he ought to. 'Nd I don't know but he waa right too. I wouldn't a stood in his way it I could. I didn't say a word, then, 'nd I ain't none to say uow, I guess we can worry along if he c'n take the risk 'nd Her voice broke and she clattered the tins. Father rose and walked to the door. He had been a tall man but he was a little hent now, and his brown face was deeply lined. He walked heavily, and After a whilo he spoke proudly. "I ain't flndin' no fault with Georgo. I car ried a musket myself in 'Gl.They wasn't anything on this farm too good t' offer t' the old Hag thon 'nd they ain't now I guess." Mother hung uo her disbpan, washed her hands at the sink and dried them on the roller towel boforo sho spoko. Thon sho said in a matter of fact tone, "I guess we'll go in the Bettin' room and tost a bit." Tho "eettin' room" was a stop higher than the kitchen. A strip of striped rag carpet covered tho step and ran across the gay flowered carpot of tho sitting room to tho front door. Mother put the lamp on the center table no tho green moss mat which Mollie had mado to protect the elaborato cover of red felt whose glories were to Mother Sbe kinah. Mollie had painted the, big stork, insecurely balancing himself on one leg among wooden lily pads, and gazing inscrutably into the golden heart of an impossible lily with the in tention of jabbing hiB long bill through it. When this work of art took the first premium at the county fair, nothing was left to be added to the sum of Mother's happiness. She kept tho blue ticket conspicuously pinned in an os tensibly inconspicuous corner; and re lated with innocent joy to the curious visitor the tale of Mollie's triumphs. A photograph of George in his uniform occupied tho center of the cabinet orgau. A large easel held a crayon picture of George and Molly in the days of kilts and long dresses; on the wall two life size portraits of George and Mollie grown up and arrayed in the glory of Sunday clothes, in-Heated that the room was a shrine where as in other shrines, there were eigne and Bymbola to recall a Presence. Mother sat down in the big rocker ..with its crazy patchwork decorations, and glanced contentedly about the room. Her eye lingered lovingly on the handpainted "throws" which decorated the pictures, the snow scene glittering with isinglass paint from tho depths of a butter-bowl, the gilded fire Bhovel with its bow of blue ribbon on the handle. "Mollie was a great hand fer fancy work," she said proudly. Father re ceived the intelligence with his usual prompt appreciation and replied en thusiastically "She was that," exactly aa it he had never said it before in bis life. Suddenly there was the sound of wheels in the road in front of the house. They stopped at the gate and footsteps crunched along the gravelled path. "I guess likely it's Tommy Landes with the mail." said Mother. "He was here yistiddy evening and I told him it he went up t' town t'day I'd like he should bring the papers. He said he'd.be glad to. Open the door Father," she con eluded as a loud knock rang on tho panels. Father rose stiffly and threw open the door. The lamp light shone on the round good natured face of Tommy Landes. "No, thanks. I can't stop, it's gittin' late 'nda feller has t' git up early in hayin' times. There's the paper. Nothin but a paper t'day. Wal, better luck next time. What say? Oh; no! not at all! glad to do it fer ye. Good night! good night! Father sat down at the table, laid tho paper nn his knee, looked in all his pockets, produced his glsBsea from the last one explored and settled them firmly in place. Mother rapidly folded and unfolded her hands. He picked up the paper and looked anxiously down the first page. Suddenly he began to trem ble violently. The paper rattled and ruBtled. Mother took it from his hands. He rose and leaned heavily on her shoulder. His shaking finger traced down tho first column and stopped half way. With a faco from which the lifo swiftly faded, she followed tho trembling Hngor. Georgo Wilson, Private, Fift first Iowa Volunteers, shot through tho lungs. Will die. Sho looked into her husband's fuco. It waB tho faco of an aged man, without hopo in this world. Ho sat down in tho noarest chair and bowed his faco in his bands. Mothor droppod down by tho table and put her head on her armB. Th hot tears foil unheedod on the rod folt covor. Tho little clock on tho sholf ticked noisily and insistently. The papor lay on tho floor. Tho headlines stood out glaring ly. INSURGENTS AGAIN REPULSED. OUR LOSS SLIGHT. ONLY ONE SOLDIER. Tho clock beat on tho theme with maddening persistence. Only one! only one! only one! After a while Mother rose and went over to a stand which stood against tho wall under tho crayon portraits. She returned bringing a heavy Book. She openod it and placed it on the table. Hearing hr movement the old man looked up Seeing, be rose and sat down before tho Book. "Wo will read," ho uaid in a quavering voico, "for our evening lesson, in tho fourteenth of John." THE TENT . . . . . . GALLERY A dozon stamp piuturos. four Cohltionfl, for 15 conts. Photo uttonH of all kind. 11th and O. ART1STIG PRINTING I Of ovory illacrlpllon. It will imyyoii to consult 0. L. Lkmmon, nt tho . LEGAL NEW8 PRINTING . . Excollont Work. Hntlafntory Pricoa. HOI JV Mtroet. fcAitAAAAAA AAA M. A A A A A (? DO YOU A ... THAT . . . 0 nnV'Q DRUG Has been 2 KUI C STORE moved m from the corner of 10th JL and P street to 104-106 y north 10th. Call and see them. i "Under the haystack little Boy Blue, Sleeps with his head on his arm) Sweet peace to his soul and rest to his limbs, He'll never come back to the farm. Little Boy Blue come blow your horn, Sheep in the meadows and cows in the corn, Where is the boy to look after the sheep? He's under the haystack fast asleep." rxoTxcxfxo c 'BENCH YELLOW JOURNALS ,lVhat Effect They Have on International Kelatloni. If one 1b to Judge of French senti ment touching tho United States from tho Parla journals, says a writer In Harper's Weekly, the conclusion la in evitable that the traditional friendship betveen tho two republics is of the hol lowest Bort. More than that, it Is ap parently clear that tho people of Franco, republicans thou thoy may call themselves, are more tho friends of a mediaeval monarchy vhoso cruel ty and barbarism have shocked the civilized world than the, are of tho anly repuouc, except Swltzerlnnd.whlch lias yet attained a stable position in the world. For It must bo remember ed that chlof among the political prob lems of France Is still that of the con tinued existence of the republic. Tho French newspapers, however, do not necessarily represent French, or even Parisian, public sentiment. Thoy are awned by money lenders and controlled by the owners of Spanish bonds; they are vile and venal, and are the models af the yellowest of our own yellow lournals. Hardly a word that appears In them Is trustworthy. But beyond theso sensat. wal newspapers there seems to be in Franco in antipathy to this country which needs explanation. Probably It Is felt, as it Is manifested, by those who are offended by the na tive bad manners of a democracy; and this feeling against bad manners Is sxaggerated in Paris, because tho man ners of democratic France aro as much worse than the manners of democratic America as It Is possible to conceive. Tho truth Is probably that dignified and intelligent Frenchmen have come to hate democrn v generally by reason of the antics of Frenrh Socl-llsts and other French democrats Therefore Borne Intelligent and reputable papers, like tho Temps breaks out agalnBt us In vilification and even some officers of the navy Indulge In criticisms of our own service, because they do not like to believe that the navy of a demo cratic power can be a strong one. H. W. BROWN Druggist and Bookseller. 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