The Kenosha telegraph. [volume] (Kenosha, Wis.) 1860-1888, 1876-04-27

ElAVS. HOW I'LL DhCh WdSu SAdCUlY
certified but she had seen them. Bet
ter days hung modify about her, like
the defaced shreds of antiquated en-
broidery.
The sturdy gossips of the seaside vii
Iage, who went about with their skirts
tucked up and their bare brown arms
ready and able for any work, looked
askance at the widow Minton, with her
pitifuI meagerness of aspect, her flicker
ing black eyes, andher trailing old gown.
They nudged each other, and said,
&c Better days-Lord save us |"
But the widow did not trouble the
neighbors much, nor they her. A body
who couldn't do heartsome hands
stirring was best left alone to her
brooding, and the widows smoky little
cabin, solitary apart on the seashore,
was left pretty much to herself and her
boy Tom.
Tom was sturdy, brown-faced lad,
who picked up living by doing odd
jobs for the boatmen, and now and then
taking day for fishing. Tom had
probably never seen better days. The
widow shook her head over him-so
stupidity content, poor Tom so beaming
and good-natured over beggarliness and
hopelessness. A tall, well-grown fellow,
with bare feet, torn straw hat, and q
red shirt. Tom took the world easily,
looking with reverent eyes on his moth
er's by-gone gentility, and by no means
seeming TO covet it for himself.
The widow deemed it due to her past
responsibility to be seen at church of a
Sunday evening, and you could see the
two walking at twilight along the sands
together, she with her clean pocket
handkerchief folded over her old HYMN
book and certain doubtful hesitancy of
gait, as if heaven itself might be looking
down critically Oh her shabby black
gown and rusty bonnet. AS for Tom.
patient Tom, he went plodding SLOWLY
after her, with his smiling face, whistling
as he went. Always patient, always
plodding, poor Tom Patiently falling
asleep during the sermon, and patiently
listening, Open-moUthed, to the closing
hymn, his careless, bright face, contrast
ing SO oddly with his mothers querulous
and tear-worn visage, won for him the
sobriquet of widow Minton's rainbow.
The minister of the parish, mistaken
soul, deemed it incumbent to make @
call on the widow; and, on charity bent.
it is said he unwarily offered to employ
her SCI vices in his household for sea
son. he deemed it his duty to rouse
the old woman to activity.
He did rouse her; and il is averred
that he never found time to call at the
cabin again. Did he take her for com
mon household drudge, or a low-born
field hand She thanked God she had
too much spirit left yet to put herself
under anybody's feet He hadn't far to
go to find scores of drudges and diggers,
but he might go further before he knew
a lady when he saw her.
&c might have been the afternoon after
the good mans visit that the widow sat
idly brooding at her cabin door. Her
eyes had q wandering, far-away look,
and her face was keener and thinner
than ever. Beyond the bluff which
sheltered her cabin stretched a fair line
of seacoast, the Waite sand cleaning sill
very In the sun. Far off a group of
Dathers, IN bright dresses, frolicked be-
Z tween shore and water. They came
from the great hotel down beyond she
could almost catch the sound of their
voices as she sat slowly rocking il1 her
doorway. 1t was quiet afternoon ::
the air was soft and soothing, and the
widows heart, SO full of bitterness. felt
itself sweeten and soften In the stiffness.
This part Of the shore, sheltered by its
Overhanging rock, was eldom disturbed
by intruders, but presently the watch
-er's eye caught sight of young girl
ssplashing and frolicking in the water
Just beyond the rocks. It was a pretty
sight, the rounded arms, the curving
shoulders, the swaying, floating figure.
And perhaps the old woman recalled
with a sigh the time when she was young
and biithe too, and had as CHEEKY a
voice as that with which the fair swim
mer hailed her companions in the dis
lance
Gazing ahsentiy on the silent scene.
"a reverie fell upon her, ana when she
looked again, the young water-nymph
had disappeared. She had probably
swan ashore behind the rocks. The
widow turned away, Rugged her thin
shawl over her shoulders, and thought
that the sea VIVID was chilly Hark
what was that Surely she heard cry.
No merry shout or ringing laugh this );
it might be the cry OF a wild bird on it's
way to its mate.
She couldn't have gone beyond her
depth, that young creature, surely
But, La what of it il she had2 Dying
young, a body gets quit Of deal of
trouble. And-yes, surely, that vas
scream. The widow looked sharply out.
Would Tom never come? The tide was
rising, and-and something certainly
was the matter. She called-she beck
,oned frantically to the bathers beyond
they seemed both blind and deaf.
No one9 not one soul, at hand, and that
young thing in peril of life A minute
she stood still, hstening-a feeble old
woman-with haggard, scared face, to