Sunbury American. [volume] (Sunbury, Pa.) 1848-1879, 1873-08-29
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A WOMAN'S COURAGE,

! The blood-red light of sunset was mirror
ed itself in crimson splashes in the turbid
tides of the great Western river the black
bird was sounding its sweet whistle
through the old primeval forests and Jo-
nathan Beers, sitting at his cabin door,
smoked his solitary evening pipe, and
thought vaguely of the church-bclls that
used to ring at evening time in the far-oil
Eastern village where he had been born
and brought up with the roar of PenObscot
Bay in his ears.
"l'd like to hear them bells once again
afore die" muscd old Jonathan. but
it aint likely I'll ever go back now"
Even while these disjointed medtations
passed through his mind there was light
sten on the cabin threshold, and the rustic
of stitlly starched pink calico,an his niece
Dorothy came to the door.
Teas ready, uncle dear" said she.
And I've baked real New England
| corn bread, and some ginger-snaps, such
as grandmamma used to make. And see,
uncle, I've sliced up the little red peaches
from the tree you planted yourself on the
south side of the hill. Israel Esmayne
said it wouldn't grow, but it has. | mean
to keep a saucerful, and little cream for
Israel tonight just to SItolC him.
Old Jonathan laid down his knife and
fork.
'Do you mean that Israel Esmayne is
coming here tonight y
Yes, uncle,' said Dorothy, STOPPING to
recover teaspoon she had drOpped-a
spoon with an antique silver shell carved
on its handle--and coming up very rosy
from the search. why not p
Take care, Dotty. That's all
Uncle, what do you mean p
Il mean, chiid, that I'd rather lay YOU in
your grave in the new burryng- ground,
where there's only one mound yet in the
shadow of the church spire, than ia See
you married TO man who drinks That's
what | mean, Dotty!'
| Dorothy's head dropped over her plate.
Uncle, that is hardly fair. Because a
man had bad habit once
And has it nO,C y
The soft eyes gifted into defiant flash.
You are mistaken, uncle. Israel Es-
mayne has not touched drop of ardent
spirits in year. lie has promised me ne
yer to touch it again i
Il hope he never will, my girl, said JON
athan Beers, although his tone betrayed no
very sanguine feeling. But it aint n safe
thing to do. It's madness. love of LIQUOR
! is, and nothing short. It's liable to break
out at any time. Israel Esmayne's good
fellow enOngh. hain't anything agin him
but it amt SAFE
| Dorothy was silent. Why was it, she
asked herself, tina. men were so severe in
judging one another? Why did they al
ways look at the blackest and least promis-
ing side of everything Israel had prom
sed her. She believed him. And that
| was enough.
And while she tripped lightly back aud
| forth about her household duties, her
mind was full Of the underlined future. She
could see herself shadowy and underlined as
in n mirror, moving about bright little
home where flowers bloomed in the case.
ments, and birds sang, and clock licked,
| lie is coming he is comingl'
One of these days y said Dorothy TO her.
self as she put away the saucer of peaches
and a little pitcher of thick cream on a
whitely-scoured pautry-shelf-'one of these
days i
| She was thinking of the future. And
old Jonathan, smoking his pipe, was living
in the past.
You've somethin' to do with the rail-
road, stranger, haven't you p
Il reckon l have said Israel Esmayne
! indifferently. I'm switchman.'
1t don't take up much of your time, 1
guess p
! It's got 10 be looked after just the same,
though, said the tall Westerner, as he lift