The Somerset herald. [volume] (Somerset, Pa.) 1870-1936, 1880-11-03

sam thought Of the news being
brought back TO his native place, OF
the shock to the widow-would she
shed one tear for him, whose smile
she never more would see?-for his
ewes. of which the light was quench-
cd. alasi forever ?-for his fond and
faithful heart made into an unculti-
waited pie. to produce indiscribable
asonics Of indigestion IN the stom-
ach Of the heather?
sam thought of the widow as che
heard the news and realized that his
voice was still forever-his fond
voice. At last she would know his
worth. Alas, too late; but then
II struck him that if it was too late
Cor the widow ii would be rather to
late for him also, and after he
went into the stomach of that paint
cd chieftain he would find 1t the
bourne from whence no traveller re-
turns.
Alas! there was little consolation
in the thought even of the widow 5
grief. wild as Sam pictured 1t. W hat
usa for that form, so beautifully
rounded, to be torn by emotion and
agitatcd by sobs, when he would not
be there to soothe her anguish?
Why should those eyes, where lurk-
ing imps of mischief dwelt, be over
flowed by tears when Sam would
not be present in the body to dry
them up.
The widow and the professor sat
alone in the dinning room of the
Victor; they sat by the open win
dow after evening service, Just like
Sam. only their boots were on, and
thew were not glOomly contemplate
ing extirpation from their beloved
home. Not al all; they sat by the
window, and convenient to the ell
bow of each sat a glass Of some cool
ing beverage, mixed by tha cunning
hand of the widow herself
Emma, my loye-eara mio!"
said the profcssor-from which re-
mark my reader may conclude he
had made considerable progress in
the widows good graces, and was
ahead Of Sam good many laps.
Emma. nay queen sat thou not
my queen?' rhc widow smiled and
twisted the corner Of her neck rib
bon round her finger. Emma, wilt
thou always be content TO dwell in
thi. rude spot, admired only by rus
cs and Doors, who gain mean
livelihood by selling dark sugar and
a very inferior brand Of tea? Art
thou content?'
The widow had never viewed
things in this way before. She was
content. She began TO feel little
ashamed Ct herself for it. She
coughed and did not answer.
Come with nae 10y dark eyed
bride, | will bear thee away to my
native land, where thy sweet smile
shall gladden. the hearts of princes
and nobleS-wherc thou shaltreign
{ very queen.
This was splendid; the widow
liked it very much.
sell. my darling-chere annie
this low tavern, and 60 with me to
thy proper sphere, where thou shalt
mix with nobles, and princes, and
shine before courts.
1t was nice to think Of shining be-
for courts, and also reigniIg 3 very
queen" but selling the Victor
was another thing. Emma did not
relish the thought-the Victor" "
that poor 81 had worked so hard for,
they had toiled for together for many
years, and all the old fashioned
beds, with patchwork quilts that
mother made, with Goar old sewing
about in these days. "sell the Vic
tor'-nol"
The widow was mad. If keeping
public house was low-well, she
always kept : public house. Selling
icorn-plasters want high, neither
babies patent feeding bottles and
things for keeping their feed warm,
nutmeg graters and washes fof the
complexion. What did he mean ?
The widow bade him goodnight
somewhat abruptly, and went to
bed, not to sleep, but to think things
ezer.
The neat day the professor left
early in a top buggy, packed with
corn plasterS, patent mouse-traps
and feeding-bottles, and other arti
cles TO numerous to mention; he
knew somehow that Emma would
prefer his room to his company.
1t was washing day, and maybe
the widows temper might have
beer a little longer than it was in
the morning. Stanislas left early.
He had begged the widow to call
him so, and she did il with 4 gulp-
at the high-sounding title.
She worked hard all day, and III
the afternoon, when the fruit of her
labor hung in the sunshine, she sat
down and made up her mind.
"I'll send round for Sam-yes, /
willard hear what he has got to
say about it. Yes, indeed, Sans
good fellow-such . good friend of
poor Si's-and know he'll give me
good advice He's a church mem
ber, and what n deal poor mothe.
thought of him, TO be sure"
Sam came round and heard the
story. What a position for a man
to be in-asked his advice on such
a subject, When the widow paused
in her story gam sat for some time
in profund silence, and then burst
out:
well, Mrs. Hockings, can't sag
a word. Maybe I'm right and may
be I'm wrong; but don't sell the
Victor that poor 81 Hockings work
ed so hard for-don't sell the Vic
tor and marry that fellow, for I
belieye-be's-a swindlerl"
The widow stared at Sam in open
mouthed amazement; but it was
put. and. wish as he might. Sam