Prescott journal. [volume] (Prescott, Wis.) 1861-1871, 1867-10-05


"Confound the boy r Harmon
pushed up bis hat with jerk, and look
ed out of the window. The night was
coming OF. A dull sunset lay low on
the water, burning like bale fire thro'
the snaky trail of smoke that went wri-
thing past the car windows. Against
lonely signal houses and little deserted
beaches the water was splashing dreari-
ly, and playing monotonous bases to
Tommy's wall
Through many changing year."
1t was a nuisance this music in the
cars. Why didn't somebody stop it p
What did the child mean by playing
that They had left the city far be
hind now. He wondered how far. He
pushed up the window fiercely, venting
the passion of the music on the first
thing that came in his way, as men will,
and thrust his head out to look back -
Through the undulating smoke, out in
the pale glimmer from the sky he could
see a low, red tongue of land, covered
with the twinkle of lighted homes
Somewhere there, in among the CULVER
ing warmth, was our
What was that boy about now Not
Home, Sweet Home 2" But that was
what Tommy WINS about.
They were lighting the lamps now in
the car. Harmon looked at the conduc-
tors face, as the sickly yellow fare struck
on It, with curious sensation. He won.
dered if he had a wife and five children;
if he ever thought of running away from
them; what he would think of n man
who did; what most people would think !;
what she would think. She-ah, she
had il all TO find out yet.
There's no place like hOme,'
said Tonmy's little fiddle.
Now this fiddle of Tommy's may
have had 8. crack or so in it, and l cannot
assert that Tommy ever struck a false
note; but the man in the corner was not
fastidious IS n musical critic; the sickly
light was Pickering through the car, the
culver on the red flats was quite out Of
sight; the train was shriekirg away into
the West-the balelul, lonely West
which was dying fast now out there up
on the sea; and it is fact that his hat
went slowly down over his face again,
and that his face went slowly down upon
his ann.
There, in the lighted home out upon
the flats, that mad drifted by forever, she
sat waiting now. 1t was about time for
him TO be in to supper; she was begin
ming to wonder little where he was;
she was keeping the tea hot, and telling
the children not to touch their father s
pickles; she had sat the table and drawn
the chairs his pipe lay filed on the shelf
over the stove. The baby was fretting
the Uaby always frctted towards night
and she was walking about with him;
walking very slowly and weakly; sing
ing now aud then. Her face in the light
was worn and white, the dark rings very
dark. She was trying to hush the boys,
teasing. for their supper: begging them
TO wait a few minutes, only few min
utes, he would surely be there then
She would put the baby down presently,
and stand at the window, with her hands
Armies hands were not once so thin
raised to shut out the light, watching.
watching.
The children would eat their supper,
the table would staLd untouched, with
his chair in its place; still she wonlj 90
to the window, and stand watching,
watching. o, the long night that she
must stand watching, and the days, and
the years
Home, sweet home,"
played Tommy.
BY and by there was no more of
" Sweet Home
How about that cove with his head
Topped down on his arms 2" speculated
Tommy, with n business-like air.
He had only stirred once, and then
put his face down again; but he was
awake, awake in every nerve, aud listen
ing, TO the very curve Of his fingers
Tommy knew that, it being part of his
trade TO learn how to use his eyes.
The sweet, loyal passion of The music
it would take worse playing than Tom
my's TO drive the sweet, loyal passion
out of Annie Laura-grew above the
din Of the train.