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.
Fine Stationery
and f
Galling Cards
127 So.EIeventrY Street.?
PHONE 88 t
4
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