Kenosha tribune and telegraph. [volume] (Kenosha, Wis.) 1855-1855, 1855-05-24
From the Ladies Repository. for March.
AFTER MANY DAYS.
By VIRGINIA F. TOWNSEND.

Won't John be surprised, though and
to think | earned it all myself, too! It'll
strike his eye the first moment he comes in,
for shall have it stand right there under
the looking glass, and little Mrs. Strong
rested the handle of her tin dipper on the
edge of large earthern bowl, half filled
with rich pumpkin liquid, and glanced to-
ward an opposite door which led into small
front parlsr.
I You would have known at once that the
tho'ts of the little woman were very pleas
ant ones, by the happy twinkiRg of her blue
eyes, and the smiles that every now and
then revealed the two dim pies hidden just
above the curving of her fair, smooth cheek
twas bright morning on the hither side
OF November, and the sunshine looked with
areaI June smleinto the pleasantlitse kitch-
en-, and wrote golden ballads on the strl-
ped carpeting, and laid its bright stereo-
typing upon The newly whitewsshed walls;
but, after all, the little woman by the table
with ben checked apron, and happy, beam
ing face, was the sweetest picture there.
1 s'pose all the neighbors will stare
dreadfully when they see it, continued Mrs
Strong, as she deposited the contents of her
laddle in the heart Of a rich pie crust; but
I'm sure they cant say that I'm extrava-
giant, AS | earned the whole sofy with my
own hands, taking in those shirts from Will
liams. must hurry along with this ba-
king, to ride over to town with farmer Will
llams, and engage them to send them over
tomorrow. How cheap it was-with that
carving on top, toe! 1t was as much as
could do to keep from telling John what
had set abous doing when he was here in
September; but I'm so glad now that con-
trived to hold my tongue. Bless me, there's
the baby waking up, jus. in the wrong time,
too:'
The low cry of the half awakened child
put all of Mrs. S,rong's dreams to flight, as
she hurried into the bed room.
They were poor people--tkt Strongs.-
You must have guessed that already, rea-
der; but the sunshine looked into many
gorgeous paflor, and lay in rosy flakes about
the crimson drapery OF manya palace home,
and found less of real happiness and he art
light than dwelt behind the chintz curtains
, of John S,iong's cottage in the suburbs of
the little village of L.
lie was a journeyman carpenter, it is true;
and his wages were low, and his employ
ment often called him, for months, from his
young wife and The sweet child that OF late
l had come to gladden. his home; but their
memories always lay like dew and sunshine
! about his strong, honest heart, nervinglt for
its daily toll, and gathering round his pill
Z low sweet home dreams, which many rich
t man might have enviel.
ID bean ok frop, Lopaa cincn
the late summer, and the days were hang
ing on the skirts of winter. No wonder the
wi!e's heart quickened al the thonsht of his
return.
There, I've got just tart enough left for
another pie, said Mrs. Strong-it was a
strange habit Fhe had of talking to herself
as she scolloped with her thumb and fore
: finger the rim of her last pie. I'm sure
, don't know what to do with it. We've got
t enough to last a week after thanksgiving,
, and-dear me, why didn't think OF it be-
, fore! continued the amiable little woman,
AS she achieved the first crude circle, III
fix it as nice as know how, and give it to
that little boy across the street. Poor little
; fellow | don't b'lieve he or his mother
have had any thanksgiving, tor I've IA no
| a real lady when We seen her in the gar
, den, and her large eyes, and pale mourn
E full features always make my heart ache,
though somehow | could never yet find
courage to speak TO her. The boy shall
have the pie, though. that's certain. I'll
: call him across the street and give il TO him
= maybe 'swil open The way TO make ac-
, quaiutance'
'Liltle boy, little boy, just come across
The road here; I've got something for you.
The child WAS standing in the froni door
of the old brown building, and the Novem-
z Der wind wasshiitng throu Oh the long gold
q en- curls that dropped like a bright cloud
about his fair child face, as he looked wist-
fully up and down the road, when Mrs.
e Strong's voice arrested him.
She was leaning over the little white gate
5 aud there was something in her face that
: would have brought almost any child to her
r side. The boy did not wal. for second
invitation.
Come in, just a minute, said Mrs. Strong
in her kind, motherly way, as she took his
hand and led him into the kitchen, here's
nice thanksgiving tart pie I've been max
ing for you. Don't you like pie, my little
man?
A sudden light gathered into the brown
eyes OF the child.
Yes, ma'am,' said he, Il love it, and SO
does mother, too
Does she? Well, think it's quite too
bad We haven't been more neig hborly since
you came here. My names Mrs. Strong,
: now, what is yourS?'
MY names Willie Gregory, ma'am, re-
Piled the child, with his eyes fastened on
, the pie.
| And your mother and you live ali alone
across the road, don't you?' queried Mrs.
Strong, as she parted away the golden curs
from the boys fair, broad forehead
Yes, ma am, we've lived alone since pa
pa died; it was long time ago, and moth
err hasn't hardly smiled since
The little fellows lip quisered. and his
eyes grew moist. and the tears hung like
thin dew drops on his long brown lashes.