Wilmington journal., 1875-07-16
THE STOLEN LETTER.

One rainy night, about half-past
| eight o'clock, the train had dashed in
| to McKibben's s Corners, and the mail
had been delivered at the store and
postoffice.
John Fairiohn. the postmaster, had
| opened the Gag and counted the let
ters. There were, as he made ont, Just
ten, and one was larger than the 9th
had found that he had left his glasses
on the newspaper in the back room,
and without his glasses he could not
read line; and so, of course, he had
gone after them, returning to find two
persons in the store-Farmer Roper
and Squire McKIbben, whose ances-
tors had given name to the place.
Wet, amt it ? said Mr.. FaIrlOhn,
nodding.
Wet or not, our folks amt going 10
do without their groceries, you see,
said the squire. Nails in, I see. Thai
train came near running into my truck,
too. Wasn't noticing the flag, and
drove across just in time to save my
sci Any letters for me
I'll see, said Mr.. Fairiohn.
He turned to the little pile of envcl-
opes, and told them over in his hand
like deck of cards.
"Why there's only nine" he said.
''I' m sure I counted right. | counted
ten, and thought one had q red seal.
[ might as well give up keeping the
Office Il L m going to lose my sences
like that. There wasn't any one IN here
while
I was gone, was there, squire?"
"Only Roper and /, said the squier;
'and Roper's son. But he didn come
| in, did he?"
nc" said old Roper. 81 don't
think that Job came in at all. He Just
went off somewhere.
"Well, said the postmaser, after an
other search, "wellI must be mistaken
Yes there is letter for you-your
folks, anyway--and somethingfor. you
yon, Mr.. Roper. And you wouldn't
! pass?"
"Oh, no." said farmer Roper ''Give8
it to me. That's from Smith that's
| clerking it in New york, [ reckon.
Can't get any of'em to stay and farm. P"
"Your son Job did," said the squire
ooh, my son Job. He'd try the
patience of his namesake," said Farm e
Roper. my son Job. bah.
Just at this moment the door f the
store opened, and there entered att a
little woman dressedin a cheap ca leo
| and wrapped in thin faded shawl
She looked timidly about the store,
still more timidly at the heap Of let
ters, and then, in an appealing voice
| like that of frightened child, said;
''Mr. Fairjohn, is there any letter
| for me this time?"
The postmaster, who was little
deaf, had turned his head away and
| did not know that she had entered,
and she came closer to the counter
and the light upon it before she spoke
again. She was a faded little woman,
and her face had signs OF grief written
upon it, but she was neither old nor
ugly yet, and there was something IL
| the damp curls clustering under the
faded calico hood, and in the little
| round, dimpled chin absolutely child
| like even yet.
Is there letter for me this time,
Mr.. Fairjohn ?" she said again; and
this time the postmaster looked up.
No, there amt; and you're a fool fol
king such walk to ask" said he,,
t ith rough kindness. Wouldn't 1
wave sent it if it had come, Mis-
Lester
Well, you see, L felt in a hurry tc
get it, said she. You can't blame me
for being in hurry, it's so long.
That's true, said the postmaster
| Well, better luck next time. But why
don't you wait? Mr.. McKibben vii
! take you over when he goes. He
passes your corner.
Yes, wait, Mrs. Lester, cried Mr.
| McKibben, "I'lI take ye and welcome
&" But she had answered:
''Thank you. I don't mind walking
and was gone.
'Keeps it up, don't she?" asked the
| postmaster.
" It's shame, SO said Mr.. Nc. Klbber
" How many years is 1t now since
Lester went off?''
| Ten," said the postmaster. g
| know, for it was the day [ came here
She was as pretty a woman rs yOu'(
want to see then, wasn't she?"
"Well, yes," said Mr.. Nc. Kibben
Said in the Sphynx," said the post
master. "And we all know that th
tSphynx went down in that voyage, nj
hands along with her. The rest of til
women put on widows weeds, ther
that lost husbands-fOur in this tow
itself. They took what the Almight
sent and didn't rebel. She set up tina
her husband wasn't dead, and wOul
come back. She'skept it up ever since
| comes for his letter regular, and he wa
drowned along with all the rest, c
course, ten years ago. She must b
thirty. Well, she's changed a goo
| deal in that time.''
Yes, said the other man; but there'
my eon Job wild over her yet He
offered himself twice. He stand
, | ready to offer himself again an
!, day-ready to be father to herea
and a good husband to her. He's bet
ter off than be. His mothers fathe
left him all he had. He's crazy 6
Job-crazy, call it. Plenty of pret
, ty gals, and healthy, smart widow:
and he sees no one but that pale, sill
little thing that's just gone out int
the mud; and she-why, of cours
| she's lost her senses, or she'd hav
him. Works like slave to keep he
self and child, lives in a rickety shant
waiting for a drowned man to com
back again. Why, every one know
Charlie Lester was drowned in til
Sphynx. There wasn't a soul saveC
not one. 1t was in the papers. Nov
? the bottle was found with letter in
} writ by some one before the ship sun
And she's waiting for him yet!'
/ "Crazy on that point" said the pos
master. "Weu, poor soul, she'd onl
been married a week when the SphyI
+ sailed; that makes difference"
"Oh, yes," said the farmer.
Then their parcels being ready, the
went out to the wagon, and Mr. Fan
, john having stared into the rainy niGl
r awhile put up his shutters and wei
q to bed. Meanwhile the woman plOdGl
n on thought the mud. walking off h'
s disappointment" she said to hersel
q It was one she should have been use
= and new the absurdity of it seemed
g to, strike her for the first time in Z
y those years.
r "They laugh at lne," she muttert
Z | 10 horsolf ssI lz,nrn tLn1: la,,.uL