The Bolivar bulletin. [volume] (Bolivar, Hardeman County, Tenn.) 1865-1888, 1877-08-23
MAGGIE RYAN.


"But just let me stay until morning
ma'am. It is cold, dreary and dark
along the road, and, indeed I've no
place to go but Widow Yarrow's, and
that's miles away"
So spoke q sad, worn-looking woman,
standing on the threshold of a we'll
to-do farmers house, just as the last
rays of light were fading from the even
ing sky.
The person she spoke to, a large
woman in a bright, lowered dress and
white apron--the mistress of the house
turned away pettishly.
"YOu came at night, Maggie, it
seems TO me, and you can go at night.
You don't suit. I never saw such shift
less ways in my life. And Jane Smith
is here, and I've only one bed for the
servant, and l can't expect tidy girl
like Jane to sleep with-well with
strangers. I've paid you for your three
days, and, goodness knows, you've wOr-
ried me out of my senses since you've
been here, and I can't keep you another
night; and the earlier you go, the soon
er you'll get there, wherever it is"
'Well, that's true, anyway. Then,
ma'am," replied the woman, and you
are mistress in your own house; but,
God knows, it's not dog I'd be drivin'
out at night" Then she tied her little
pittance in the corner of a pocket
handkerchief and walked away out of
the gate and up the road, not looking
back once. Her heart was heavy as
lead, and she was angry at world that
had been very hard one to her.
''Three years since Pat went away"
she said to herself; "never a word from
him. He's dead, no doubt; and it's the
last kind word I've heard. wasn't
shiftless and good for nothing to him.
Maggie, he'd often say, I'D change
you for nobody's wife, Och, he was
the~man; and as good to me when I
was faded and worn out with the hard
Gvin' and rarin' and losin' the childer,
as he was when I was purity girl, with
cheeks like roses, and he was a boy
cOurtin' me. Och, Pat, where did you
go at all? You died in a ditch like a
dog, maybe; for all these hard-hearted
gentle-folk care, we all might"
She turned and shook her fist back
at the house she had just left, only a
bit of the roof visible over the rising
ground now.
''My heart was aching for the chill
der and for Pat" she said: "but you
could have ne patience if pertatie was
burnt, or a towel not that smooth.
You sent me out with the night falling.
Bad luck to ye and to all your like"
Then she pIodded on again; but the
woman she had left was not as bad as
she had fancied her. In her thrift and
tidiness she could not understand this
untidy, careless being. She knew
| nothing of the misery at her heart, or
the sorrow that made her forget the
pots and pals. She was actually hall
afraid of her and anxious to get her out
of her house. She. had felt it a great
mistake to hire tramp from the road as
it were, and she had paid her and was
conscious of no cruelty.
The daylight fed apace: the moon
risen long ago, became visible---a faint
streak of new moon that set in a little
while---only the stars were left--ane
Maggie, wandering on the road with hel
bundle under her arm--a bundle o.
rags and odds and ends tumbled to
gether in an old flannel petticoat---be
gan to loose her knowledge Oft. Here
and there she saw lights in a window
| but they were no promise Of hospitality
| to her. If she could get to the widow
Yarrow's, that parsonage, who took tht
| labOrers to board, would let her lodge
while she could pay; but where wa
| the widows cOttage--tO the right or Il
| the left2 She could not tell in the dark
ness whether she had taken the propel
turning. Hard by was rushing sound
as of water. Danger there. perhaps
The railroad was somewhere at hand
and though Maggie felt that the worlC
was poor place, she did not feel read,
to meet death yet.
"Pn just drop down in the gras
somewhere" said the poor woman
"And God between me and harm If
could find bit of hay now, 'twould
a comfort"
She stretched forward, peerin,
through the darkness, and her foo
struck some loose branches that lie VI
on the ground, with cracking sound
whats that?' said a voice yer
near her in a sharp whisper
cts an imp of squirrel" said al
. other voice. $50 on with your work lin
J the train viii be along in fifteen minute
Up with that rail. Hi Well ha7
them this time"
Hold your tongue, fool" said tt
| first voice. you're half drunk.
tell you I thought it was a step"
f And now Maggie, who had sunk FL
t upon the ground. knew all. Those WI
f whispered near Fer were train-wreckeT
" "l'H make no noise," said she, ct
none of my business"
r But lying in the grass, the shal
2 strokes of steel on steel smOte on b
s ear; she could not forget them. Al
. suddenly it came upon her that it W
S neither more nor less than murder tn
T she was waiting there to see---that in ]
?, ing quiet while it was done she helped
t do it.
=" God forgive me-" said poor Maggi
"Pli not do it; but what am / to d,
T How will 1 stop them? It's my Ov
l. death I'll bring about nothing else
n And just then the soud Of a stea
n whistle far away caught the ear. T
e train was coming.
+ Ready for themw said the vol
C she had heard before. "Come into t
bushes"