Staunton vindicator. [volume] (Staunton, Va.) 1860-1896, 1878-06-28
Eyes, John; I don't know anybody else,
and there's no one cares for me.''
ssHundreds. on the riyer.,' he said.

and there's no one cares for me.'
Hundreds, on the river" he said.
''Then don't care for them, john" I
said, simply ''and if you like. and if ev
er do-do-do-leave-O, dear, what am
saying?"
sat down on a fender, and covered my
face with my coarse red hand, and began
to cry; but he took my hands down an6
look long and lovingly into my face, with
his great honest brown eyes; and then he
could not speak, but seemed to choke. Al
last he gasped out:
''Thanky, Prudence, thanky. am go
ing away now to wait, for you'll come to
me some day, know"
/ didn't answer him.
''For the time may come, my lass, when
you'll be all alone in the world; and when
it does come there's the cabin of the Betsy
Ann, clean painted up, and waiting fol-
you, just as her masters waiting too"
He went quietly over the side and cast
off the rope, and was gone before knew
it; and sat there in the calm afternoon
and evening, sometimes crying, sometimes
feeling hopeful, and with sense of joy at
my heart as I never felt before.
And so that evening deepened into night
with the barge quarter of a mile astern
of us, and no wind coming, only the tide
to help us on our way.
1t must have been about ten O'Clock at
night, when was forward seeing to the
light hoisted up to keep anything from
running into us, when heard father come
stumbling up from the cabin, and make as
if to come forward to me.
:'Prue ~ he cried, ''Prue! -
eyes, father, coming" I said; and then
l uttered wild shrek, and rushed to-
wards where the boat hung astern by her
FAINTER, hauled her up and crawled in, for
no sooner had | answered than [ heard a
cry and splash and I knew father had
gone overheard.
was into the boat in moment and had
the scull over the stern, padding away in
the direction that the cry came from but
though fancied in those horrible minutes
that saw hand stretched out of the
water asking as it were for help, padded
and sculled about till 1 was far from our
barge. and then sank down worn out, to
utter a moan of horror and sobs, ooh faith
er, father What shall do ?"
els that you, Prudence 20 said a voice.
eyes, John, yes," cried, looking out
through the darkness, out of which a boat
seemed to steal till it was alongside, when
John stretched out his hand and took
mine.
"Quick!' 1 gasped; ''save him. John
father-gone overheard J"
"When you shrieked out, Prue?"
EYES," 1 walled; so, save him, save
him."
my poor lass" ''that's good quarter
of an hour ago, and the tides running
strong. I've been padding about trying
to find you for went up to the barge and
you were gone"
''But father,'' I walled, ''father save
him p
''My poor little lass" he said, tenderly,
ed jump into the water now, if you bid
me but what can I do ?"
Idid not answer, for did not know that
he must have been swept far away before
then; and 1 was beginning to feel that I
was quite alone in the world.
It was six months after that dreadful
night that John came ashore from his
barge to the cottage, where I was staying
with his mother, and had been ever since
he brought me there, without seeing him
to speak only to wave my hand at him as
he sailed by. That evening he came and
looked wistfully at me, and said but little;
and at last his time was up and he rose to
60.
walked down to his boat with him,
and on the way he told me that he had got
leave to alter the name of his barge, and
it was called the Prudence, too; and then,
without word about the past, he was say
ing goodbye, when put my hands in his,
and said quietly:
"John, dear, l haven't forgot my prom
ise."
ssAnd you are alone, now, Prudence. my
lass ?" he cried, eagerly.
mo, John, no." 1 said softly, as the
tears ran down'm cheeks; II never shall
be while you live"
'Never my lass, never" he'cried, ''And
you'll be my little wife p
eyes, John. yes: I promised YOU"
"When I come back from this voyage?"
Eyes, John, when you will" said; and
with one long hand pressure we parted,
and 1 went back to walt for another
and then was his happy "little
wife,"
And there seemed no change for I was
once more on the river, or out at sea, lean
ing upon the tiller, and gazing straight be-
fore me, with the gulls wailing as they
wheeled and dipped and skinned, or set
tied upon the water while the light wind
gently stirred the print hood that was
lightly tied over my wind ruffled hair.
Only bargeman's young wife living on
the tide, but very happy for John often
points to the great ships that pass us, with
their captains in their gold lace caps, and
as he does SO he whispers
''Not with the best of them, Prue, not
with the best; 1 wouldn't even change
places with the king"
And if he is as happy as I, dear John is
right.
GOOD ADvICE.-The IN. E. Farmer
gives this advice: ''Let every young far
mer who hopes to make a living by farm
ing, determine at the outset to have Ii