The Kanzas news., 1857-10-24
Vol. 1--No. II.
Oh dear I oh dear | oh


Parson Pitcher could not even smile
the poor fellows grief was too deep. What
could he think of to console him, but that
deepest comfort to the, ,bereaved, her better
state ? MY dear friend, be comforted. Eu-
nice is with the blessed in heaven
4 know it! I know it she alters mas
nigh about fit to go there without dyin'-
Oh Lordyl she's gone to heaven and I
ha 'nt!'
No, there was no consoling Uncle Josh ;
that touch of nature showed it. He was
alone, and refused to be comforted so Par
son Pitcher made feryent prayer for the
living, that unawares merged into thanks
giving for the dead, and went his way, sor-
rowfully convicted that his holy Office had
in it no supernatural power or aid-that
some things are too deep and mighty for man.
Josh's grief rayed itself into worn
out detection, still too poignant TO
bear the gentlest touch. His groans and
cries were heart-breaking at the funeral, and
it seemed as if he would really die with ag-
ony, while the despairing wretchedness of
the funeral hymn, the wailing cadences of
China poured round the dusty. and cob
webbed meeting house TO which they carried
his wife in her coffin, one sultry August
Sunday, to utter prayers and hymns above
her who now needed no prayer and heard
the hymns of heaven.
After this, Josh retired to his own house,
and, according to Mrs. Casey's story, neith-
er slept nor ate, but was somewhat apocry-
phal, and three days after the funeral Parson
Pitcher, betaking himself to the Crane farm,
found Uncle Josh whiting out set of
clothes pegs on his doorstep, bus looking
very downcast and miserable:
Good morning, Mr.. Crane said the good
divine
'Mornin', Parson Pitcher; havea cheer q
The Parson sat down ON the bench of the
stoop, and witfully surveyed Josh, wonder
ing how best to introduce the subject of his
loss but the refractory widower gave no
sign, and at length the parson spoke.
i hope you begin to be resigned to the
will of Providence, my dear Mr.. Crane
No don't speck!' honestly retorted
Josh. Parson Pitcher was shocked.
L hoped to find you in a better frame,
said he.
L can't help it y exclaimed Josh, fiinging
down finished peg emphatically. 1 ant
resigned! I want Miss Eunice ant
willing to have her dead, 1 can't and ant,
and that's the hull ont and I'd a.
sight rather-oh goody I've swore again.
Lord-a-massy n she ant here to look at
me when do, and I'm goin' straight to the
d. Oh land there it goes Oh dear
soul, can't fellow help himself nohow p
And with that Josh burst into passion
of tears, and fed past Parson Pitcher into
the barn, from whence he emerged no more
till the ministers steps were heard crunch
ing on the gravel path towards the gate,
when Josh, persistent as Galilee, thrust his
head out of the barn window, and reported,
in louder and more strenuous key Il ant
willin', Parson PitcherP leaving the par
son in a dubious state of mind, on which he
ruminated for some weeks, finally conclud-
ING to leave Josh alone with his Bible, till
time should blunt the keen edge of his pain,
and reduce him to reason and he noticed
with great satisfaction that Josh came reg
ularly to church and conference meetings,
and at length resumed his work with due
amount of composure.
There was, in the village of Plainfeld, a
certain Miss Ranney, daughter of the afore-
said Mrs. Ranney, the greatest vixen in those
parts, and of course an old maid. Her tenn
per and tongue had kept off suffers in her
youth, and had in nowise softened since
Her name was Sarah, familliarized into Sal
ly, and as she grew up to middle age that
pleasant, kindly title being sadly out of
keeping with her nature, everybody called
her Sal Ran, and the third generation scarce
knew she had another name.
Any uproar in the village always began
Il nj ha to he ,.nl1ral-xr
boy who pilfered an apple under the over
hanging trees of Mrs. Ranney's orchard by
the road, or tilted the well-sweep of her sto-
ny-curbed well to get drink; Sal was
down upon the offender like hail-storm,
and cuffs and shrieks mingled in wild cho-
rus with her shrill scolding, to the awe and
CONSERVATION of every child within half a
mile.
Judge, then, of Parson Pitchers amaze
ment when, little more than a year after
Miss Eunice's death, Josh was ushered into
his study one evening, and, after stroking a
new stove-pipe hat for long time, at length
said he had come to speak about bein'
published The parson drew a long breath,
partly for the mutability of man, partly of
pure wonder.
Who are you going to marry, Mr.. Crane?'
said he, after pause. Another man might
have softened the style of his wife to be-
not Josh.
Sal Ran,' said he, undauntedly. Parson
Pitcher arose from his chair, and, with both
hands in his pockets. advanced upon Josh
like horse and foot together; but he stood
his ground.
what, in the name of common sense and
decency, do you mean by marrying that
woman, Joshu-way Crane ? thundered the
parson.
We'll, eff you'll set down, Parson Pitcher,
I'll tell ye the rights ont; you see I'm
dreadful pestered with this here swearing
way I've got. kinder thought it would
wear of if Miss Eunice kep looking at me.
but she's died. Here Josh interpolated
great blubbering sop. And I'm gettin' 80