Martinsburg weekly independent. [volume] (Martinsburg, W. Va.) 1873-1875, 1874-08-01

ing, and at least hundred differ
ent kinds OF garden-seeds We
will be so happy when get home.
But, sir (crying), | really think |
never will reach home again.
Three weeks of travel all alone
has nearly cost me my life.
/ "What Is my husband doing in
Coror0do, did you say, sir ? He
Is sheepfarming. He was a tailor
and gentlemen's- furnisher in
| Gloster. We lived in one house
for nineteen years. My father
kept the business before J. marri-
ed my husband. We were doing
very well and getting rich, but
my husband, who had been a
sailor when boy, and who was
born In Brazil, was always dis
contented and wanted to travel
In an evil hour / consented to sell
out our business in Gloster. He
took $4,000 with him and started
to Colorado. His letters which
he wrote from Colorado were very
interesting they were printed in
our country paper at home. Oh,
sir, II you only could know how
tired am Of travelling. how lone
some / feel here upon these plains
SO many thousands of miles from
my dear old home, you would re-
alize how anxious / am to meet
my husband.
The sun and the train rolled on
westward. and toward evening on
the second day out from Kansas
City came in sight of Bijou. My
fello passenger was all hustle
and excitement ; she had been half
a dozen times to the glass to adjust
her hair and appeared. The beau
iiful little boy In his Scotch cap,
blue jacket and black stockings
had his golden locks freshly curl
ed, his rosy cheeks washed, and
stood upon the car-seat look
ing out of the Misunderstanding
for Father"
"Oh, mother, think / see faith
err" said Charley. "No, mother,
it is some one else. Oh, l see a
coffin, mother some person is
dead they are taking the coffin
out of a wagon, mother. There ii
is, mother there, we are past it
now. Now we shall see father,
we are home." The train stopped
the weary, trayeled-soiled niece
of Charles Dickens gathered up
her parcels and her cloaks, and
stepped out upon the wild,
bleak spot called Bijou Station.
The passengers, all interested in
the laxative and unsophisticated
pair of travellers, crowded to the
windows of the car to witness the
expected meeting between hus-
band and wife. They saw it.
While her baggage was being
tumbled out of the car, she stood
with her baby in her arms and
her boy by her side gazing around
upon the strange scene, and peer
ing eagerly among the rough
clad ranchmen and plainsmen for
the face which alone of all others
she wished to see.
A rough-looking but polite
ranchman stepped forward, and.
with clumsy bow and bashful
manner, inquired who the mad
am desired to see."
II want my husband, Mr.. Hen
ry Lester. Does he not keep
sheppard cattle farm near here ?"
HE did, madam" answered
the ranchman, sadly; "but he's
rounded-up his herd for the last
time. There he is in that coffin
died last Wednesday night, and
We sendin' the body back to Dem
yer, accordin' to his last instruc-
itions. He died of congestion of
the bowels. Madam beg pardon,
madam, but are you his"
He did not finish his sentence,
but stepped forward to catch the
falling form of my fellow-traveler,
who was carried to the car in a
swoon. The little boy uttered a
pitieous wall of grief, while /
led him sobbing back to the car,
which this wearied, travel-tired
pair had left minute before so
hopeful and so happy. There
were many wet eyes in that ear
Just then, mine among the rest,
as l held the beautiful boy sob
bling TO my breast.
saw my fellow-traveler twice
again, once when she followed her
husband to his last resting-place,
attended by one solitary carriage
and four mourners, and again last
Monday morning, when, pale, sad
and bowed with grief, she started
with her fair-haired boy upon her
long journey back to the quiet
shade and seclusion of her Old
homG within the shadows of Clos
ter Cathedral. Detroit Tribune.