The Tiffin tribune. (Tiffin, Ohio) 1868-1887, 1873-02-06

breakfast, and out into the TOOl5 De-
fore day light, saving, skiddingr and
hauling among the great pines al
day, early to bed, TO sleep without q
break or \ dream. I got back my
strength, and some spirits, too, fol
youth cannot always despair. I wrote
. to my sister, Amelia, giving a guard-
/ ed account Of myself-the first she
had for years; and wrote to the Lees
once IN 2 while and 50 the weeks pass
ed. From he very first, Luny Jack
attached himself TO me. / could not
shake him of any more than one can
shake of an afiectiOnate dog. He did
not talk much, but he wOuld only
work In my company, always man
aging TO get jobs with me, and in the
. evening he would patiently take his
J place near me, and nothing short OF
/ force wOuld move him. At first ev-
eTybOiy laughed, but after : while il
got 10 be q matter of course, and Lu.
ny was allowed to follow around after
old Log as much as he pleased. Log
was the name I had given at random,
in kind of grim humOr, when ! first
Joined the camp, and old was soon
added, since on the frontier every
name must have a prefix, and mine
was as complimentary and apprOpri'
ate as most of them. Ibid not mind
Luny Jack, although I could never
make him ont exactly. Certainly hC
was - fool, and yet he could not have
possessed a full share of common
sense. He was, as I said before, more
] like an affectionaUe dog than anything
else. Why he took such a fancy tC
me could never find out, either; bui
don't you know that dog will some
times take q fancy TO man, stranger
though he be, and follow him with
such pertinacity that, if he has any
feeling, he will end by taking the beg.
gar in whether or nOi
Sometimes I would get VeXed al
| Luny, and speak sharply to him and
then, without word, he would go of
| a little way and stand looking at me
with those faded eyes of his, until,
half angry, half sorry, 1 wonld call
/ the fool back. He was an odd little
man, bent and griZZled, looking like
] a cross between an Indian and Scotch
man; but his eyes were almost pa
thetic at times, and / could not help
/ thinking that he knew ne was queer,
/ and felt u dim sorrow about it. Little
/ Gi, however, was as bright as q child
could be, and soon became the Joy OF
my life. He took to me az once, and
many story told him out of the
/ Greek mytholOgy-the only good the
old stuff ever did me, by the way
and used TO teach him little at odd
| times, especially on Sundays. Luny
/ watched all this with satisfaction. He
attended to what the boy ate and
what he wore, and left the rest to me.
/ They were an odd pair. The child
/ called his father .Luny,' not from any
| want of respect, but because be heard
/ the men use the term. But the two
were very fond of each other after
their odd fashion. Things went on in
/ this way until February. On the even
ing of the 1sth-the date is fixed in
my mind In letters Of 1re-I received
| o letter from my sister in answer to
mine-a long letter full of her own
troubles. Amelia and I never had
much in common In the old days, but
time had changed US both, and she
seemed glad to have some one to
whom she could write freely. Her
husband was q tyrant; I knew that
already. He treated her badly; 1
knew that also. The rest followed as
a matter of course. Bit when she
had finished her own story, she took
up mine, and read through her COM
ments quietly enough until I came to
this passage: Lucy Darrell, your old
friend, has escaped my fate at least.
although she may fail into q worse
Fr NJ nnwraal1 I,nA
been on the verge of failure for some
years, a5 long ago as our fathers
death but you remember what a
proud man he was, and with infinite
pains he managed to bring about an
engagement between Lucy and old
Peter + nmOns, the rich paper-maker.
Then, sudJenly, q horror seemed to
come over her, she wrote to Mr.. En-
mons, freeing herself from the en-
gagement, and fed to New York
alone. There she hoped to find en-
plOymCnt in a dTess-maker's shop,
but, poor child! hOr delicate health
cannon long endure the confinement.
Most people here condemn her, ana
no one is disposed to help her. !, how
ever, understand and can sympathize
with the pOCr girl, but what can I
do -
"Then followed more Of Amelia's
moraliZings, but ! could pay no fur
ther attention to them.
"There it came again, the chance
to see my old love. And there with
il again stood the obstacle of pOvdrty.
1 sat alone by the fire late into the
night, thinking. Several times Luny
Jack stole out of his bunk and crept
to my side, looking up mutely into
my face, as if searching for the reason
of my night-watch. At last notion
ed him away so angrily that he did
not dare to come again, but lay look
ing at me, until impatient and wretch
ed, l, too, crept into my berth to get
rid of his sentinel eyes.
"MOney I had none. According to
the custom of the lumber region, we
received our board and clothes during
the winter, but our wsges were not
paid until spring, when the logs had
been safely RATED down the swollen
stream to the mill.
"NO one in the camp had the
amount of money needed, even if 1
had been able to borrow tnat sum
and in all the world there was no one
to whom 1 could apply. 1 thought of
the Lees; but, heavily indebted as
already was to their kind charity, I
shrank from weighing down the
scales still farther. 1t was, too,
mere chance; and yet that chance
was my all. 70 find Lucy in great
New York was almost an Impossible
ity; ard yet knew l could succeed.
w. I=A Cho ,r-rf4a f1aN 1afFarn 7 hfH
not know, but I knew that I loved
her-loved her with all my heart and
life.
"Thus | debated with myself
through all that sleepless night. Mon
ey! money! money that was my one
thought, my one desire. 1t haunted
me-bags OF gold, heaps ofsilver, rolls
of bank-bills, and even copper pen
MES. 1 made elaborate calculations
as to how small a sum would answer
my purpose, but at tbe lowest It was
far beyond possibility. How bitterly
regretted my wasted, squandered
years III had kept on, even IN that
miserable store, by this time could
have made a home, small and hum
BILE, but still home, for my darling.
Then came the thought that that was
what I was trying to do, working to
do, hoping to do, and would haye
done, had it not been for that cruel
letter; and dashing the thoughtawa
l would begin over to make calcula-
tIons, while the piles Of gold danced
in the darkness before my eYes. 7
know now that had q fever; hut L
did not notice it then.
'Iu the morning 1 was sent of to
saw logs with Luny Jack. It was q
wild, remote, part Of the forest and I
noticed that Luny looked unusually
wide-awake as he followed me, and
seemed TO be in a state of excitement
as 1 Ipointed to the tree upon which
we were to begin. But was too IN
happy to think of his vagaries, or in
deed of anything but myself, and we
had sawed through one tree and be-
gun on another when I was reused by
hearing him grooming a low chant.
II was old Hundred the little man
was trying to sing, and the words
were these:
"'3lOnkeys laugh behind my back,
And the Camp-boys laugh at me,
But they don't know Luny Jack,
Hes gOt what they'd like toseG-
and the verse ended in a kind OF
hFpak-lOWD which StODDad the saw