The Forest Republican. [volume] (Tionesta, Pa.) 1869-1952, 1873-06-18
A DARK NIGHT.

81 can't stand it any longer, Jane,
I'll go out, and perhaps something
will turn up fof us"
"It's a cold night, Robert"
"Cold, yes But it's not much cold
or outside than in. It would have
been better if you had married John
Tremain," he said bitterly.
Don't say that, Robert, I've never
regretted my choice"
"Not even now, when there is not
a loaf of bread in the house for you
and the children 7"
rNot even now, Robert. Don't be
Discouraged. God has not forsaken
US. Perhaps this evening the tide
will turn, and better days may dawn
upon us to morrow"
Robert Brice shook his head de-
spondiugly.
"You are more hopeful than ],
Jane. Day after day | have been in
search of employment. have called
at fifty places, only to receive the
same answer everywhere"
Just then little Jimmy, who had
been asleep, woke up.
Mother" he pleaded, "won't you
give me piece of bread? I am SO
hungry"
There is no bread, Jimmy, darl-
ing" said mother with an aching
| heart.
"When will there be some?" asked
the child, piteously.
Tears came to the mothers eyes.
She knew not what to say.
Jimmy, I'll bring you some bread, p"
said tie father hoarsely, and he seized
his hat and went to the door.
His wife, alarmed, laid her hand
upon his sleeve. She saw the look in
his eyes, and she feared to whal al 'p
desperation might lead him.
Remember, Robert" she said
solemnly, ut is hard to starve, but
there are things that are worse"
He shook off her hand, but not
roughly, and without g word passed
ont.
Out in the cold streets They would
be his only homo next, lie thought
For brief time longer lie had the
shelter of a cherries room in q cold
tenement house, but the rent weuld
become due at the end of the month
and he had nothing to meet it.
Robert Brice was a mechanic, com
petent and skillful. Three year;
since he lived in a country village
where his expenses were moderate
and he found no difficulty in meeting
them. But in an evil hour he grew
tired of his village home, and he re
moved to the city. For a while HI
met with very good success, bu
he found the tenement house in whicl
he was obliged to live poor substi
tute for the neat little cottage whicl
he had occupied in the country. II,
saw his mistake, but was to proud Il
go back.
"Of course can't have as good ac
comodations hero as in the country,
he said, "but il is something to live in
and be in the midst of things"
"I'd rather be back again." sait
his wife. Somehow the city doesn'
seem like home. There l used to run
in and take tea with neighbor, anC
have a pleasant social time. Here
know scarcely anybody.
you'll get used to it after while,
said her husband.
She did net think so, but she die
not complain.
But the time of great depression
came, and with il suspension efbusi
ness enterprises. Work ceased fo
r Robert Briee and many others. If h
had been in his old home, he coul'
have turned his hand to somethin,
else, and at worst could have borrowe,
from his peighbors till better times
But the friendly relations arising from
neighborhood 40 not exist in the cit.
to the same extent as in the country
So, day by day, he saw his scsnty sun
Of money passing away, and no on
extended a helping hand. Day b,
day he went out to seek work, only 4
find himself one of a large number
all ofwhom were doomed to disaypoint
ment. If he had been alone he coul'
have got along somehow, but it was
sore trial to come to a cheerless room
= | and q MALE wife and hunOrV children