The Andrew County Republican. [volume] (Savannah, Mo.) 1871-1876, 1876-10-05

Poo', 'oi huuh Y hc sdiuS US nc AWAY
said, "Don't be afraid, Jenny; III
come back, for sure, you know" Ant
then I waited and waited, till finally l
fell asleep among the bales and barrels
and forgot my troubles.
In the morning, q forlorn and desc
late little creature enough, l learned
from some compassionate 'longshore'
man that the great ship where Jim had
been at work had sailed away with him
aboard. A wild and passionate fit OF
weeping greeted this news, and a pitt.
full throng of people gathered about
me, freight men and sailo:s mostly, bu,
among them suddenly appeared the
quiet face of a Quaker lady, who was
distributing books among the sailors.
They told her my tale, and seeing me
utterly friendless, she wiped my tear
stained face with her white handker-
chief, and took me away. l had no
friends. l was no better than a master
less dog, and worth far less. But she
took me to n great clean, bare, and
quiet place-an institution they called
it-where there were many others as
homeless and wretched as |. And there
they washed me and made me so clean
and fresh that l thought the real me,
ragged, r~ed-cyed, unkept surplus atom
of humanity that had been me, was
gone away over seas with Jim, and this
.rosy-cheeked child was another me,
newly come into the world.
Then one day there came a grand
and stately lady, who took me away to
live with her, and be her own little girl.
This lady wore shining silks, and lived
in a splendid house, and had a lad in a
velvet jacket who was about as big as
Jim. 1t was all like q strange bright
dream, il l could have only forgotten
Jim. But l could not.
Jim was surplus population no long,
er; perhaps he was drowned his ragged
jacket and crownless hat might be
buried now away down under the sea.
Nobody about me now wore patched
shoes, or trousers out at the knees, and
nobody, it seemed to me, not even Lou is
who was so kind and good to me, not
he, had an eye as bright and soft
as Jim's or a hand as warm. And so |
never forgot Jim, but always in my
heart Of hearts | seemed listening and
waiting for him.
Sometimes | used to lure Louis down
to the wharves, and always when |
walked by myself my steps turned
titherward, and thus it was that | never
lost sight of the ships, and dimly,
family, unreasonably, looked for the re-
turn of jim.
But it began to be years since dear
old Jim went away, and Louis was a tall
youth home from college, and | was
well, folks called me a young lady, and
that l would marry Louis some
day. And perhaps they might have
been right; but how could | be a lady
n real lady, you know-with an old
straw hat and a ragged jacket slowed
away in my heart? Even after | grew
up, l had fits of silent fretting
for Jim that seemed as if they
would eat my life away. Mrs.
Belden said it was because | was grow
ing, and she took me away one bright
summer to the sea-shore. Oh, the sea-
shore! can not tell you what l felt
when l first saw the seattle real sea-
stretching away from the white line of
shore, throbbing and sounding as it
brimmed to the horizons edge. This
was the sea, the glori6ed sea; the sea
no longer grimy and smoky and gray
with getting its living, but the sea
translated, purified, made holy as if af-
ter death. The days went and came
shining and beautiful; and every day |
walked on the shore with Louis, a
races with the breeze, picked shells or
gathered sea-weed, or watched the sun
set gliding the sails of some far.ilitting
ship. Louis's face vas sweet in those
and kind as sunlight; and his
voice was soft and low when he spoke
to me, for he said we were old friends
now, and had known each other so
many years that we ought to love each
other always. One afternoon we strayed
farther than usual, and the twilight
as we walked, l think we
both forgot every thing save that we
were young and happy, and life
was glorious. Love! The word
dropped warm from his lips, and
seemed to color all my future with
rose tints. All my past seemed sinking
out of sight. The gates of paradise
were open, and | was free to walk there
in If l would. Not for me the barren
ness, the disappointment, that blighted
other lives. l might make mine what |
would, with wealth and love for my
servants, and luxury and joy at my
command. All, well l remember that
afternoon by the seattle long line of
white beach, the overhanging cliffs, the
twilight touching the water with a gold
en- glow, and glittering on the tall
masts, and a ship lying at anchor be-
yond. Oh, life vas so beautiful!-oh,
love was so beautiful! A lightness of
heart, a capricious, intangible, elf.like
mood fell upon me, born perhaps of the
very overflow of bliss. l remember
clapping my hands as l skipped along,
and challenging Louis to a race. Per-
haps he had urged me too persistently
to respond to his affection, to say when
l would be his wife. Wife! l wanted
to be no ones wife just then, but only
to love and to live. Would l answer
himP sighed Louis.
"When you catch me-" l responded.
mockingly, fitting along the sand.
Away l went, with Louis following,
b%reathless. We rounded the curve OF
the shore, and l was just about sinking