The Newtown bee., 1879-07-02

moned from the city, and the weary wife enjoyed the luxury of being ill. But convalescence soon followed; and before leaving his patient the old doctor, a close observer and deep thinker, took the husband aside and asked:
 Did you know what brought this fever on your wife, MT. Streeterp You have worked her nearly to death."
 "You are speaking of my wife, not my horse."
 Granted; and I say again you are working her to death.'' Really, doctor, such language is un- pardonable."
 And yet you will pardon it. And | furthermore, by your great love for the | self-sacriticing woman we have Just left, I shall perform an operation on your eyes that you may see as see. | And then he placed the cold, hard facts before him, from the time she became 8 1 bride, beautiful and accomplished, to the village, up to date of present illness, in which domestic cares only had haunted her in feverish dreams. In concluding 1 he added:
 "I truly believe, if she takes up her old burdens at once, that before the year has passed the grave or an insane asylum will receive her."
 | The strong man shuddered. | AS I1cdFeu IS ny " SI1, l Hay . only permitted, not exacted, this sacri- flee. She voluntarily took her place by my side, and has uncomplainingly kept step with me-"
 No, she has not kept step, to follow your own figure, Unable to keep up with your long, rapid strides, she has fallen, faint and footsore, by the way. I tell you she must have rest for both mind and body, or I will not answer for l A y,I yxyor11I !, away from home." | Yes; begin to comprehend, and it can be found away" And offering his 1 hand, "I will take care, doctor, that you do not geta chance to administer another such dose to me-"
 MT. Streeter went back to the room where his wife was sitting propped up | by pillows, and a gush of unutterable tenderness swelled in his heart as he transparent hands. He sat down beside her and said, softly:
 You don't know how glad I am that you are better"
 "Thank you. Yes; I am almost well now-shall soon be able to be in the 1 kitchen. l an sure l must be sadly needed there by this time" "No, you are not needed there. By the way, would you like to have me put tie | ldtL LII lO ICHb bllIS SuII1D1HI, tud you bdk0 the boy and so back to the old granite hills?"
 "Oh, could you2 May I go?" and the voice quivered with excitement; :; then wistfully, '' but the expense, New i ton. It would put Us back so much"
 Yes, there it is; the old doctor was right,n he thought. And then aloud, Do you know what went to the city for the day you were ill?"
 To deposit some money for more land l think you said," she replied, wearily. Yes; but l do not need that land. I | have far more land than I can cultivate now. And you shall have that money at least all you want of it-and go home and stay all the summer, and try to get some of your blood back. I shall write to-day that you are comingn
 Mrs. Streeter could not believe it was not one of her feverish dreams. But it all came about in good time, and she arrived safely at home, where she was petted and caressed to her hearts content.
 "You are all trying to spoil me-" she would expostulate; ''I shall never be fit for a farmers wife any more.n And thus among loving friends, rid ing, walking and, when at home, read ing, music and writing long letters to her husband, the summer wore swiftly away.
 And now he had written that he was coming, and she was counting the days that must elapse ere she could look upon his face and be clasped to his heart. She was eager to go now. Her holiday was over. Health had returned, and not an instant did she shrink from the old life.
 And when the husband came and saw the wonder one summer had wrought, he again told himself that the good doc- tor was right.
 A few days were given to the old friends, and then they turned their faces toward their Western home
 It was evening when they arrived, and the wife looked with bewilderment on the change. A handsome front had been added to the old dwelling; and before she had time to question she was ushered into a parlor newly furnished and already lighted. An elegant piano stood in recess evidently constructed for it's re- ception.
 She turned toward her husband to assure herself that he, too, had not changed into something or somebody else. But the merry twinkle in his eye told her he was enjoying her surprise, and slowly she began to realize the whole situation. Yes, now she under stood his strange reluctance to mention what he was doing, and his willingness to have her remain, even after she had expressed her anxiety to return
 "Come, I have more to show you!' and he showed her into large, com modious room, furnished for her own sleeping apartment, even to her baby's crib.
 "This is for you. And now lay aside your dusty garments and prepare for tea; it must have been ready an hour ago. I will % and see j
 When he returned he found his little wife sitting in her little rocker and weep ing silently.
 ''Haye I wounded where I wished to healp" he asked, responsibility.
 Forgive me-" she said, smiling; C I am a goose, but tired-winged one, you home in sIlch a home thaf I have no