Watertown republican. [volume] (Watertown, Wis.) 1860-1906, 1876-09-20

At last she reached the shed set apart
for q real estate office, and found it
closed. The agent was away; no hotel
or restaurant near. The March wind
begun to rise and roar, and blow the
red dust Of these desert streets into her
eyes and nostrils. Faint with hunger
and WEAKNESS, she dragged herself
back back to the station just in time to
hear the toot of the engine and see the
outgoing of the homeward train.
Just an hour and a half to wait"
said the station master; and back in
search of the house agent went Mrs.
Jones. This time he was in, and ur-
banely DESTROYS of taking her to the de-
sired premises. Then they begun to
walk and walk again, till her head
seemed to leave her shoulders and 20
up in the air, and her body to leave her
legs, which went walking and walking
on. At last a row of new brick houses
reared themselves before her on the
brink of one Of those dismal gorges, the
back kitchens propped no by posts, the
chimneys topped by queer monsters to
induce them to draw-.a whole row of
staring brick houses, with little court
yards in front, and funeral urn in the
middle of what looked like a newly
made grave. The agent opened the first
of the rusty iron gates to these little
courtyards, and entered. b#e
"Why, this isn't the cottage adver-
tised, is it?" said poor Mrs. Jones
this isn't a cottage at all. It's house,
regular brick house, ...
"We call them cottages here" said
the agent, mildly; eve call them brick
cottages. But walk in"
Which was easier said than done, the
occupant opening the door an inch and
parleying with the agent
You'll be coming here before break
fast, and after we go to bed, the next
thing" she said. But seeing the white,
wan face of Mrs. Jones, she added :
"Come in and sit down; you do look
beat on. Yes, ma'am, there's three
rooms on this floor y
Four" said the agent. ..
"Well, if you call that cubby hole
under the stairs room, all right-and
they're every one as damp as they can
be. With this roarin' fire, you can see
for yourself the papers all peelin' off
the walls. There's laundry down
stairs-yes" to the agent. y Don't you
be afraid III forget the laundry. 'It's a
very handsome laundry, cause the
waters knee-deep there all the time;
leastways, it comes and goes with the
tide in the back lots there. There's
four rooms up stalrs-as cold as Green
land in winter, and hot as Africa in
summer. There ain't a garnet On the
loft that you can tuck away as much as
an old hoopskirt. But come on up
stairs: II show you the hull premises
Mrs. Jones declined. She was MOI
quite able to continue her work that
day. Could she turning to the
AGENT get a hack in the vicinity to take
her to the station again? She didn't
feel very well, and storm had gather
ed. The snow began to whirl around in
the front lots and back lots that COM
prised the view, covering up the ashes
and garbage, falling into the pits from
whence dirt had been taken, and upon
the heaps where dirt had been thrown.
A hack? Well, no; there wasn't any
hacks to be had. A conveyance of any
kind, for which she would willingly
pay? Well, no, he didn't know of any.
If she'd take his arm, he'd help her
down to the station And, more dead
than alive, the poor lady found herself
again walking. The agent put her on
the train, glad to be rid of what seemed
to him then an impending evil for
she looked bad, very bad, and there
was no place in Rosedale for people to
be sick that he knew of.
But hack was to be got in the me-
tropolis, which Mrs. Jones reached at
nightfall, and she fell from the steps of
the coach into the arms of her aston
ished and terrified husband.
"Don't be alarmed, DEAR" she whis-
pered; "don't mind, lofty; but I'm
going to die, I think"
"Hold on !" cried Mr.. Jones to the
hackman. Then he carried his wife
into the house, and jumping into the
cab, went after the family physician.
"she must be very bad,6 whispered
Mr.. Jones to himself. "She hasn't
called me 'Tofy,' nor put her arms
about me i'll that way since our honey
moon"
The doctor looked grave, ordered
perfect quiet, a sedative. The next
morning he looked graver still. Ice
was put upon the poor lady's head,
which rolled helplessly to and fro upon
the pillow. And there she lay for four
long weeks.
It was a season of Indebtedness and
despair. Nobody knew how dear and
necessary was this rather sharp and
peremptory matron till there was an
Imminent danger of losing her. Then
all was remembered and chung to tear
fully.
Jones found his heart contracting
with agony, and could think Of no way
in which life would be endurable with
out her. To contend with business af-
fairs, to shape the future of this pretty
Rosalie, to manage there three bolster
Gus boys, without Maria-without Mrs.
Jones
"My God Joe," he cried, that night,
bowling his head upon the marble table
and bursting into tears. 81 shall 60
mad"
"Hush take heart. There's faint
none" said Joe. cOaxing the cold treno-