The Cecil Whig. [volume] (Elkton, Md.) 1841-current, 1875-10-09
JOHN JONES, SICK MAN.
BY NJ. QUAD.

but he said he guessed he'd be all right as
soon as the weather changed again. On
the third morning he had a high fever and
couldn't stand up.
Mrs. Jones seemed delighted. He hadn't
been sick before for thirteen years, and she
had splendid stock of herbs and powders
and liquids in the pantry.
Now, just give right up, John Wash
ington," she replied, as he groaned and
sighed and declared that he'd get up and
go down town as usual if it killed him.
"There, let me turn your pillow over, hang
your clothes in the closet, and then I'll run
in and make you some toast"
He had to submit. She darkened the
bedroom, put a clean spread on the bed,
and grand smile covered her face as she
sailed into the kitchen.
"Sarah Jane, you 60 and fan your father
with newspaper and keep the flies Off
him while get the poor man something to
eat. Your father is a very sick man, Sarah
Jane, AND l can't say that you won't be
fatherless next week at this time"'
Sarah went in and Mrs. Jones rushed
from the stove to the pantry. She toasted
four large slices of bread, broke three eggs
into hot water, got down pint glass of
jelly, sent for half pound of crackers,
and in about half an hour she had the sick
mans breakfast ready.
81 don't care what all the doctors in the
land say" she remarked as she drew three
chairs within his reach and loaded them
down with the provisions. 81 know that
people can't be sick without something on
their stomach
He tasted the toast, slipped at the tea,
groaned, growled, and sighed and she
pleaded.
"Now, John, do try and eat something
l know just how bad you feel and know
you haven't any appetite, but do try
go thunder"' he groaned, as his stomach
rebelled against the food.
"Poor man! poor, dear mani" she sighed,
as she placed her hand on his head. "John
Washington, if you should die this would
be sad house! I don't believe l could
stand up under the blow over three weeks,
and know the children would give right
upr'
hadn't we better have doctor?" he
inquired, becoming frightened.
"Not now, John-not until we see that
I can't do you any good. 1 know these
doctors to. a T. They'd come here and
dose and dose and make great bill, and
you'd probably die just the same"
She carried out the food, put on kettle
of water, got out a clean towel, and as she
entered the bedroom with dish of warm
water in her hand, she said:
CHOW, then, must wash your feet and
cut your toe-nails."
She sat beside the bed, took his foot in
her lap, and that sweet smile on her face
proved that his illness would be gain to
her of pound of flesh per day.
"My soul! but I'm glad I thought to
wash your feet!' she exclaimed, as she
rubbed them with wet towel. 81 wouldn't
have had any of the neighbors come in
and see these feet for all we are WORTH
She wanted to scrape the soles with an
old case knife, but he wouldn't permit it.
She, however, got out the shears and had a
good time cutting his toe nails and digging
under them. She worked industriously for
half an hour, and then held the last foot
off and looked at it admiringly, and said:
"There' I'll take my dying oath that
va ho oil ;,,t =
He half admitted that he felt better, and
greatly encouraged, she sent Sarah Jane
out to pull some horse radish leaves. These
were trimmed, laid on the stove, rolled in
her hand, and she went back to Mr.. Jones
and said:
"Now, then, we'll put on the drafts''
She put a leaf on the sole of each foot
tied clean cloths over them, hunted up
clean socks, and worried them on over the
cloths, and as she tucked the spread down,
she asked:
"Now, John Washington, don't you feel
better-a little better?''
"Oh, l dunnov' he groaned, turning
over. She turned over his pillow, put a
damp cloth on his forehead, counted his
pulse, and whispered:
"See if you can't catch little sleep
while go and wash the dishes"
When she went out Sarah Jane had her
brother William harnessed to chair and
was driving him around the kitchen for
her horse. "What! didn't tell you tina
your 70 thor xr,c i'll oxol,; r,ad +bo vootbor
as she boxed their ears. "It would be a
pretty story to 60 out that you children
were playing horse when your father lay
dying ?"
The children subsidized, and as the mother
piled the dishes together and carefully
scraped the crumbs from each plate on to
a platter she couldn't help wondering how
she would look in grapes. Her husband
was we'll known, belonged to the Odd Eel
lows and debating society, and of course
everybody would turn out to the funeral.
She would have lots of sympathy, and the
head man of the Odd Fellows would see
that the funeral passed off all right. She
wouldn't never marry again, of course,
though it would be hard for her to bring
up two small children and settle up her
husbands business and earn her own sup
port. She would be the "widow JONES' ~
and if she smiled at all it must be faint
smile, and if she talked she must have a
handkerchief ready to wipe the tears from
her eyes.
As the last dish was wiped her reverie
was broken by a howl from William, who
had fallen over log in the back yard.
"What! bowling like that when your
dear father is dying" she exclaimed, as she
shook him right and left.
He subsidized, and she sent Sarah Jane
down to the market after some lean mutton
to make the invalid a nice broth.
"The poor man, she sighed, as she
started for the bed room. She reached it
to find him out of bed and dressed and
ready to 60 down town. The horse radish
drafts were hanging on the bedstead, the
pillow was on the floor, and the spread
her best-was in heap under the bed.