Northern tribune. [volume] (Cheboygan, Mich.) 1875-1885, 1877-06-02

low.
close her eyes. lay her ont in the sum
mer silk that should have graced OuI
wedding, take the seventy-ffve dollars ]
have laid away in the bank, to buy bel
coffin and pay the funeral expenses.
About this time there comes legacy
! of a few hundred from an old uncle OF
ours. send May off to school with this
determined she shall not be like Sophia
. am left alone. do my own work.
, eat my solitary meals, sailed with lonely
tears. have ceased to ever hope fol
Fred now.
The June days come again, hot and
long. There is no sunshine without
happiness, and stiffness without rest.
j look at the glass; am all eyes; my
face is sharpening out, my collar bones
prelude. am getting wispy and thin;
SO much for putting my trust in man.
Old SHIPPER looked at me to-day, even
kindly, and said:
Miss 10. you must have vacation; a
week or:so of this hot weather in thecoun-
try will do you good, and you can work
better on yOur return"
! So thank him, thinking sadly that no
trip in the country can make me happy
now that am heir only henceforth to
woman's indisputed legacy, tears, and
longing after the love and appreciation
she will never receive.
The big hearted manager of the road
| who is acquainted with me, has given
me pass to st. Paul and return. 1 care
little which way 60, and have selected
this route because it passes through the
town where Fred Langley lives. Though
l half despise him for his fickleness, still
l have wOmcn's curiosity to ride
through his city, even though 1 catch a
glimpse of his Office .windows.i
got me brown poplin travelling
dress. / find that old maids generally
have brown poplin, and the older they
get the more cOlors they wear, especially
scarlet. l have always hated red. | can
not see my way clear, just yet, to putting
on my bennett, so get more youthful
bunch of pale blush rosebuds for my
hat.
One hot, bright July morning 1 set
out on my lonely trip. Once seated in
the train by the open window, my spirits
rose, for l always did love to ride on the
cars-there is q pleasant rush and excite
ment about them that pIeases me; we
are flying so fast, SO fast, through white
towns and over bridges, and out into the
Wisconsin prairies-nOt smooth and roll
ing, like those of Illinois and Iowa, but
rough and jagged, full of rocks and rag
ged thickets, with little cabins set down
here and there like birds nests in the
grass flocks of ragged children troop
out of these and stare at the passengers
the dear little dirty creatures. What
an inventory they take of my Milwaukee
Nor iv q
field all dotted with swapping lilies,
scarlet lobelas and wild asters. How l
longed to get out and gather them.
see by the towns on my ticket, and
knew by the warning whistle, that We
were within a mile of Fred's home. The
big manufacturing town is already in
sight the sand, sawdust and coal smoke
is living. Of course I have my head and
shoulders out of the window, and with
nv ewes and mouth full of cinders, and
gaping wildly about me.
The train CRATES, jars and stops. The
usual amount of women with boxes,
budgets and parasols bundle off the
train. The teachers association is held
here this week, and tribe of lank, sharp
nosed, hungry-faced women get off also,
teacher written all over them, from their
ugly hats to their ugly shoes.
Can believe nv eyes? Who is it steps
Ip and shakes hands with two of the
lankest. most wizzened, old maidest of
them all, but my darling Fred, with o
smile as sweet as the morning; take their
satchels and shawls, and turns to the |
lady who is with him, whom know, by |
the elegance of her dress, and certain
high-bred sweetness about her, is his SIS
ter. The oldest old maid says:
$50 kind in you, Mr.. Langley, to meet
us. We would have been quite bewil-
dered i'm this big place. So good i'm you
to take so much trouble"
mo trouble, most happy" but he says
it rather languidly-
He glauces up at my window. and in
spite of cinders and SCOT, my caved-in
bonnet. my hair all flying, and my
cheeks burning like live Goals, he knows
me. and drops the satchels.
Take the shawls moment. sis" /
hear him say, and in another second he
is OH the train, leaning over my seat,
with my hand held tightly in his, asking
me half dozen questions in breath.
II am going to st. Paul." is all he has
time to answer and he whispers, "Good-
bye, Mignon will see you again. and
he is off the cars as the bell begins to
ring.
catch one more glimpse Of him as the
train moves off, helping his sister and the
old maids With their satchels, and their
ankles like axe-helves into the carriage,
| see him take the front seat beside the
one with the red peoples in her bonnet,
touch the reins, and the horses are off
like birds. How 1 envy that old maid.
though she hasa wart on her nose and
looks like last years mullen stock!
Something gets into my throat and
chokes me, and / refuse the orange the
man with the big beard, who sat in the
next seat, offers me. Something chokes
me all the way to st. Paul.
1t may be the green peach L have eat
en-: but think it is that old maid.
Why did let him speak to me so ia
miliarly. and call me "Mignon," his Old
name for me? Why did not pull my
hand away?
busy myself with such thoughts as
these until we have crossed the boundary
line, and have entered Minnesota; here
the scenery gets wilder and wilder
the broad Mississippi winds lazl-
with trees topping uncOmfortably along
their steep sides; close to the car WIN
dows great walls of rock rise, oh, so high
up in the air. The train balances dizzl-
ly along like rope walker over high
skeleton bridges and lodges OF limestone
rock, where it seems as If the least jar
would send US down, down, l dare not
think how far.
ride along in sort of mist until we
reach st. Paul. What queer, elevated
town it is ! as if every house in it had
climbed up and sat down on the top OF
hill, get out in pouring rain, greatly