Eaton weekly Democrat. [volume] (Eaton, Ohio) 1866-1875, 1873-10-02

Suddenly the raw n1Qe winch formed
the door of Sans house was pushed
aside, and a woman came out and called
Sam, and he disappeared from his log.
AS he entered his hut all the women
lifted sorrowful faces and retired no
one even fingered, for the Pike has not
the common human interest in other
peoples business-he lacks that, as well
as certain similar virtues of civiliza-
ton.
Sam dropped by the bedside and was
human his heart was in the right
place, and, though heavily intrenched
| by years of laziness and whisky and to-
bacco, it could be brought to the front,
| and it came now.
The dying woman cast her eyes ap-
pealingly at the surgeon, and that
worthy stepped outside the door. Then
the yellow-faced woman said
Sam, doctor says amt got much
time left"
"Mary," said Sam, Il wish ter God
I could die fur yer. The Children
cts them I want to talk about,
they could die with me, rather'n hev'em
ez I've he'd to. Not that you amt been
a kind husband to me, for you hev.
Whenever I wanted meat yev got it
somehow; an when yev been ugly
drunk yev kept away from the house.
But I'm dyin', Sam, and it's cos you've
killed me-"
"Good God, Mary !" cried the aston
ished Sam, jumping up; "yu're crazy
here, doctor"
doctor can't do no good, Sam keep
still and listen, eff yer love me like yer
once said yer did; fur L hevn't got
much breath left" gasped the woman.
"Mary," said the aggrieved Sam, "
swow to God dunno what yer drivin'
| at"
"It's Jest this, Sam" replied the wo-
man. eyer TUX me, tellin' me ye'd
love me an honor me, an perfect me.
You mean to say now yer done it ? I'm
a-dyin', SAM hain't got no favors to
ask of nobody, and I'm tellin' the truth,
not knowin' what word will be my
last"
"Then tell feller where the KILN
came in, Mary, for heavens sake" said
the unhappy Sam.
ssIt's come in all along, Sam," said
the woman. "There is women in the
States, SO I've heerd, that marries fur
a home an bread an butter, but you
promised more'n that, Sam. An I've
waited, an it amt come. An there's
somethin' in me that's all starved and
cut to pieces. An it's your fault, Sam
I TUX yer fur better or fur wuss, an
I've never grumbled."
"I know yer haint, Mary, whispered
the conscience-stricken Pike. can I
know what yer mean. Eff Godu only
let yer be fur few years, I'll see eff the
thing can't be helped. Don't cuss me,
Mary-I've never knowed how I've been
a-goin'. wish there was something I
could do fore you go, to pay yer all I
owe yer. I'd go back on everything
that makes life worth hevin'.
"Pay it to the children, Sam," said
the sick woman, raising herself in her
miserable bed. "Tll forgive yer every
thing if you'll do the right thing for
them. Do-do-everything ?" said the
woman, throwing up her arms and fall
ing backward. Her husbands arms
caught her his lips brought to her wan
face q smile, which the grim visitor,
who an instant later stole her breath,
pityingly left in full possession of the
rightful inheritance from which it had
been SO long excluded.
Sam knelt for moment with his face
beside his wife-what he said or did the
Lord only knows, but the doctor, who
was of speculative mind, afterwards
said that when Sam appeared at the
door he showed the first Pike face in
which he had ever seen any signs of a
soul.
Sam went to the sod house, where
lived the oldest woman in the camp,
, and briefly announced the end of his
wife. Then, after some consultation
> with the old woman, Sam rode to town
one of his horses, leading another. He
came back with but one horse and 8
, large bundle; and soon the women
: were making for Mrs. Trotwine her last
earthly robe, and the first new one she
had worn for years. The next day 6
! wagon brought coffin and minister
and the whole camp silently and re-
; spectfulIy followed Mrs. Trotwine to
home with which she could find nc
fault.
, For three days all the male Pixies il
= the camp sat on the log in front O.
q Sans door and expressed their sym
pathy, as did three friends of Job
: that is, they held their peace. But OF
D the fourth their tongues were unloosed
] AS conversationalist the Pike is not ,
success, but Sans actions were so un
i usual and utterly unheard of that i
{ seemed as if even they must have won
j dered and communed among themselves
!. "I never heard of such thing,
r said Brown Buck "he's gone an
!. bought new clothes for each of the fou
: young 'uns."
= eyes," said the patriarch of tn
camp, & an this mornin', when I wen
d down to the bank to soak my head, 'co
a last nights liquor didn't agree with it
g L seed Sam with all his young 'uns a
l. they wus a-washin' their faces an hand
If with soap. They'll ketch their dealt
n and be on the hill with their mothe
d fore long, if he don't look out. Some
'r body ort to reason with him."
Le "'Twould do no good" sighed Limp
II ing Jim. "He's lost his head, al
reason goes into one ear an out 6
le t'other ear. When he was scrapin' roun
ut this front door t'other day, an I aske
W him what he wuz a-layin' the ground a
le bare an desolate fur, he said he VIZ
ID done keeping pig-pen. Now everybod
N but him knows he never had pig. HI
re heads gone, just mark my words. :"
g On the morning of the fourth gda.
he Sans friends had just secured a full a
s. tendance on the log, and were at work c
their first pipes, when they were startle
is by seeing Sam harness his horse in tt
er wagon and put all his children into it.
"Whar ye bound fur, Sam?" aske
tn the patriarch.
if Sam blushed as near as Pike coul,