The Potter journal and news item. [volume] (Coudersport, Pa.) 1872-1874, 1873-08-20
lFrom the independently
HESTER'S CURE.

[ = =
whose wit are exquisitely fascinating
to lovers, but whose temperament
whose whims, whose prejudices, an.
tipathies, fancies, are exquisitely try
ing to husbands. Still, being hel
husband, l have hardly the right to
speak so, even to you; and, in fact.
there were but two Of Hester's pecu-
liarities that ever occasioned me anv
trouble. One OF these was her love
Of locality, her insane attachment to
the spot called home, and the other
was her horror of thunder storm.
If there was one mortal thing of
which Hester had a fear, it was light
ning-if that may be called mortal
thing. 1t was not like fear, either.
that emotion Of hers. Into fear the
mind enters, and this was a purely
physical thing. In the good old
. days YOU would have said she was
under a spell, for she turned marble,
white and cold, the moment thunder
cloud attained any height; her lips
became parched, her heart lessened
its beats, and she could neither speak
nor move. She always lay helplessly
on the bed and was fed with whiskey
to be kept alive. And while we
were in the city the gas was lighted,
the shutters closed, the curtains
dropped and somebody played on
the piano a running accompaniment
as long as the thunder intOned its
bass. Of course, al this was not
looked on with much favor by my
superior masculine nerves; and, hav-
ing no sympathy with it, | had a
great deal of scorn for it, and doubt
less caused Hester additional trouble
by the little pains | took to conceal
my yeXation.
But Hester had no longer gas to
light, or shutters or long curtains to
hide the sights feared; for times
had changed with us. We had given
up our pleasant city home, full Of
light, and cheer, and sociabiIity, and
had come down to try our luck in
this great farm on the edge Of the
marshes, where a tide-streak turned
the wheels Of a couple Of grist-miIls,
and We had something more than
fair chance Of improving our condi-
ton.
Hester, Of course, had been against
the removal, against the plan and
the place, from the first. She wanted
me to wait in the city till things
bettercd themselves or something
turned up. She had rather 90 with
less, she said, and stay where we
were, among our friends and our as
sociations. She did not want to sell
the sun5hiny house where we had
spent aIl our married life, around
which al her enjoyments clustered,
and put the price into this great,
lonely, untried farm. But | told her
that ten years Of this farm, if all
prospcrcd, would enable us to buy
back the city place and make it
winter paradise. "Tcn years" ex-
claimed Hester. "In ten years people
Will be dead and scattered; and we
shall not care, after such a separation,
for any Of those that are left, and
they viii not care for us, and the
best part of our lives Will be gone"
But l was 100 sure Of my ground
to listen to her; my own logic con-
vinced me and ! oyer-taIked all Hes
ter had to say. And the long and
short of it was that down to the farm
we came, bag and baggage; and my
wife and my mother and sisters, and
all my household goods and gods
were around me there.
''It is nothing but a swamp"
cried Hester, as she looked at it in
dismay.
"It is on the border Of some salt
marshes, but with plenty of fine up
Iand," replied.
"And see! See, Rogerl The light
ming struck the fences here last
year"
"Well, suppose it did?" I asked,
as coolIy as possible, little fearing
what was to come. "The bullet never
goes twice through the same hole you
know"
"The lightning does" said Hester,
her great black eyes widening and
darkening. at always does. Where
the lightning has fallen once, it in
variably in the course of time falls
again. You can see it all as plain as
day. 1t gathers on these marshes,