Oxford Democrat. [volume] (Paris, Me.) 1833-1933, 1870-08-12
Stlett Storp.
GRIMES SECOND WIFE.

Poor Mrs. Grimes she can't live out
the day" The words were sadly spoken
by more than one neighbor, casting
mournlul glanceS toward that window
where the blinds were shut
Poor Mrs Grimes! just rs she had got
so comfortably settled in her new house,
too
Yes ii was Mrs Grimes everywhere y
withered woman. old at forty She was
dying in the pretty room where she had
hoped to enjoy so much. Her husband
sat near her, silently battling with his
grief, for he had loved that patient wife
for twenty years.
The sharp, pinched features, now gray
with the shadow of death, had been beauti.
fnl once-the dull eyes had sparklcd with
the fire Of JOY and health Children had
been carried in those wasted arms, and
from thence taken all too soon TO the
grave. Two sons stood in the chamber
with solemn faces. unwilling TO let mother
90. Old and faded. wriukled aud suffer.
ing though she was, they held her heart
by the strong cords of love.
Twenty years before, Mrs. Grimes was
installed by happy husband, mistress of
his house. Ii was not his own farm
whose broad acres he cultivated. conse-
quently he determined 10 work hard, TO
be diligcnt, frugal and saving. SO that In
time to come he might have some place
TO call his own.
In this pleasant scheme the young wife
enter ed with all her heart; she was
healthy and strong, knew how TO work
and WAS not afraid of her labor So she
put forth all her strength, and her thrift
and toll told Every year the farmer laid
bv money towards his purchase. People
wondered why the Grimes would 90 to
meeting in that rickety old wagon, and
why Mrs. Grimes wore the same faded
muslin that she had worn at least ten
wears But she knew why, and though
her hands had grown coarse, and missha'
pen. and she suffered pains and ills she
never ielt before. it did not once occur to
her that these were the effects of hard aud
wearing labor.
Time to read Why, the good woman
would almost have laughed in the face of
one who asked the question. Look at her
work and then imagine, if You could,
that she had any time. She had not even
leisure TO eat her meals properly, what
with cooking huge messes of pork and
beef, cabbage and potatoes, filing tub
after tub with apple sauce. making all
the cheese and bread and butter FOR the
household, and hired men, how could she
eat her meals rs she should?
Strange to say, she never regretted all
this outlay OF strength, all this waste of
human Iifc Euer before her. was the
prospect of that pleasant farm, cleared,
planted and paid for. She wanted no
help except when her children were born,
and even then she gave the wearied frame
no time for repose, but stitched aud
mended, propped up by pillows, before
nerve and muscle were aole to perform
their proper functions. Thus it was that
she grew old and shrunken before her
time, grew into machine of flesh and
blood that never slackencd in the huge
toll it had taken upon itself to bear. The
husband became accustomed to the pale
face and so often had he listened to her
olt-repeated declaration that she would
not have help. that ut last he gave up all
thought oil it. She never took rides in
the sweet country roads. she had no time
to tend and love flowers, she never visited,
she had always something to do.
One day the farmer came in early in
the afternoon. Ii was an unusal hour for
him and wife said so, looking up from
huge pile Of mending
We'll" and he flushed and smiled, as
he seated himself in one of the uncom.
Portable kitchen chairs, I've bought Jer-
rvs place at last and paid for it every
cent
The faded eye faded, the lips parted
with smile, but suddenly the woman
bowed her head. and burst into tears.
Why, Sally,-why, wile--I thought
you'd be mighty pleasedn cried the
farmer. starting at this exhibition of
feeling.
Il am, dear and Sally struggled to
overcome her grief, but such lonesome
drearisome feeling came over me then, |
thought ofihe dead babies in their graves.