The Kenosha telegraph. [volume] (Kenosha, Wis.) 1860-1888, 1865-06-01
VOLUME rs. |

she sank down upon the nOor, her lace Durl
ed in the cushions Of the old chair
Why Margaret, what air ye doin'?' cried
good old Mrs. Freer. Here It's twelve o.
clock this blessed miunit. and the fire all
out What will yer father say?
Mrs. Frear had begun vigorous attack
upon the cooking stove, but stopped short as
Margaret, rising YEARLY stood before her
with blanched, bewiIdered face.
Why, what ails the child Bless me, she
looks as if she'd had a stroke!' A stroke, in
deed, but not exactly of the kind to which
her mother referred.
Margaret passed her hand across her eyes
heavily, as with an effort. It's nothing,
she said Il must have been little faint
That's all
'Alll enough, ] should think You Just
come into my room and lie down on my bed,
and I'll make you cup Of sage tea Mercy
on mel hope 'tisn't the black tongue
Your aunt Mary told me that was prevailiu'
in Barnet Just let me look oyer tongue ,
And the good woman BUSTED about, bring
ing blankets, brewing herbs, in her solicitude
for her child, quite oblivious of dinner and
all other minor considerations.
And Margaret buried her eyesin the snowy
pillows, while Arson, all his worldly effects
packed in one valise, took his way on foot to
the next stage town. And the next week a
tall man stood on the ships deck and watch
ed the blue New England hills grow dim;
and little figure, in its brown dress, sat
still i'll the Vermont farm house, and worked
on as before; only her cheek was triHe viii
ter, and instead Of her old song there was
silence.
Ten long years. Long to look forward -
| to look back only the brief dream of sum
mcr night But time enough to create new
| joys to forget many old ones. Had Marga-
ret Frear forgotten? Why we will see
| The same tidy kitchen; the same old
chair, and seated therein a pale woman in
mourning dress. She had sat down in the
kitchen: she could not stay in the sitting
ROOM to day. They had carried out from
theirs yesterday cofin-her mothers and
in that place between the windows, where
| the table was standing now, it had stood
She seemed to see the black pail there yet.
There was knocking at the inner door.
followed by the entrance of tall woman in
a dark gingham gown. 1t was Mrs. Kit
redge. She lived next door, which next
door was good half mile away, but they
were all called in Heathe pear neighbors
Told my husband" size says; laying
down her sunbonnet-I told him, Marga-
ret, that I'd just come over and sit down
long with you spell | know't must be
lonesome like.
Il am very glad to see you said Marga
ret; and she rose, shaking the cushions of
the rocking chair and setting it out for her
visitor.
No no, you just keep your sittin' You
are tired. I'll fetch chair for myself out
opened the door softly into that room.
Perhaps it would be pleasenter in the
sitting room, teebly suggested Marga-
ret.
No, know just how tbs. Twas just so
to our house after grandfather died. For
a week we couldn't bear to go into his
room, Seemed as if twas chilly somehow,
like vault The good woman took off her
spectacles and wiped them with the corner
of her black silk apron. She had grey hair,
and years of labor had left their record in
wrinkles on her face. That face with its
large features could never have been beauti
full even in its best estate; but owe" many
sick bed, over many sad and sorrowing
soul it had shown as the face of an angel.
1t seems as thought must see your
mother round somewheres,' she said, and
the spectacles grew dim again. It's going
OH thirty years now that we've lived long
side of each other and sight of comfort
we've had together; sight of comfort
Marg'ret,' she repeated, AN we never took
nothing but comfort together, the Lord be
thanked, and that, s moren most neighbors
can say The old clock licked in the cor
ner, and the two sat silent for little. Mrs.
Kittredge was knitting very fast. The
tears would keep coming, and she was chok
ing them down under that string of gold
beads about her neck. She had come over
pUrposely to cheer up Margaret and here
she was crying herself She has never good
woman that she is, heard what some one
had said: BE not consistent but simply
true, and so consistency and truth are hav
ing sore battle of it The former conquers,
however, and she says:
well, Marg'ret, she was good mother
to you, and nowt she's gone, you'd ought
to be thankful that she was spared so long
L know it, Mrs. Kittredge; but it is very
hard to be grateful always, and Margarets
lip began to tremhle.
Bless your dear soul! [ know it's hard;
but as my husband says, 'We'd ought to
thank the Lord that it's as we'll with us as
it is
! Very homely consolation this, but never.
theless, all theme possibly. it went down
into the orphaned solitary heart soil,
which all day long had scorched under
burning sun, receiving at night the cooling
rain and tie dews of heaven it was like this
Margaret thought, the spoken comfort of an
honest soul.
4 suppose you'll sell the place, most like
ly?' said Mrs kittridge. presently. 1T was
well enough she said to herself, for Marga
ret to begin to think of these things 1t
would take up her mind
Sell the old placer Margaret had never
thought of such thing before. And yet.
why not? She could not manage the farm
herself Besides it was all she habits
value might be more available in some 9th
er form. So she replied quietly enough:
L don't know that there will be any other
way
Yes; was tellin for good Mrs
hittredge there seemed to be but one sub
stantive possible to this personal pronoun'
Twas tellin him this mornin that ther'd
be enough that would be glad to buy the
trear Farm. It's under good cultivation, and
the buildiu's all i'll good repair There's
Squire Varnum, now, he'd be glad to take
the ten-achre lot long side Of his mowin';
and for the rest ont there's my brother Hal
lookin round for farm for Zimr. He,
layin out to be married this fall you
know
oh I'm sure there would be no difficulty
in disposing of it said Margaret for til,
sake of making some reply. uer thought:
were too busy just then for her to talk.
1t was sudden plan of selling the home
stead little like taking the ground from
benea tn her feet it seemed TO her, and sh,
: hardly knew what would become Of he
afterwards. Mrs. Kittredge's Thought
: must have been near the same place, for sh
} asked And what are you intendin' to d,
Margret? Indeed had hardly though