The Princeton union. [volume] (Princeton, Minn.) 1876-1976, 1880-11-25
The last basket was nearly full, and

were put on, ana become q melancholy
wreck. I resolved that it would never
meet that fate, and it did not. The
price Of it went for ssfine-cut,'' and the
pie went elsewhere. After school I made
ready for outdoor service, and marched
of, pie and SO forth in hand.
At the door when should encount-
er but Frank Russell, a fellow teacher,
with a load of eatablcs.
where are you going off to starve
with that pile of cakes, Frances9' said.
"What are you going to do with that
overgrown pie?" was her satisfactory
answer.
I. "This is for my Old woman
She. swell, these are for my old wo-
man."
I. 'sWho is your old woman?''
She. "a colored aunty that sells APP
/ pies on the steps of St. Marks in Eighth
street,
threw up my hands, nearly waiting
the precious pie into space, and exclaim-
ed: ''Why, she's mine, you absurd little
atom!"
swell, then, she has two owners, for
she's mine also," said Frank: with that
beautiful calmness born OF perfect assur-
ance.
There's no more use in arguing with
Frances than in trying to joggle the North
Star, or to slip the Equator along an inch
or two: so there was nothing else to be
done but exclaim, "That's funny and
"That's nice,' until we were all out of
breath.
And then we started off with light
hearts and pies and cakes, and hurried
down Broadway at fearful rate
AS we turned into Eighth street we
saw with dismay that our mutual friend
was not at her post. We skirmished
about little, and presently the dear old
dame doomed up above the horizon. We
bore down upon her under full sail, came
alongside, discharged our cargo and de-
parted, satisfied with seeing very sur
prised pleased face under our old friend s
somewhat rusty black hood.
They do say that birds of feather
flock together. 1t must be so; or how
did it happen that where I boarded there
was another teacher?
She came in that night rather late,
Rosa did, and explained that she chad
been around giving out some flannel and
things that Miss Green had sent to the
poor" -.
land the poorest person know" said
Rosa, lis the dear old black apple-woman
down a. st. Marks in Eighth street,"
Then second time jumped up and
raised the cry, "Do you own her too?'' I
began to realize widows emotions
when she gets her .'thirds."
"Yes,' said placid Rosa. "she's been
mine long time and if there ever was
saint she's one!''
Dear, dear how We chippered and twit-
tered about it; and if that beloved old
aunty did not feel her ears glow that night
l much fear me she had no ears.
I concluded this was the last of mild
surprises about My Old Woman"
though vague fear haunted me, for
day or two, that some fourth claimant
would appear on the scene to "quarter
her up into three halves"
The fourth, indeed, did come in pleas
ant fashion.
Not long after this Thanksgiving,I one
day climbed to the studio Of lady friend
in Gibson's Building, and after we had
sat and talked awhile in her picturesque
den she said, ~ have the key to VS. stu
qio while he is away: don't you want to
see it9''
OF course I did, if I might, and we
went in.
There she was again! my old friend,
not quite as large as life, but Just as nat
ural! This time on canvass in gooqly sur
roundings, mo. 2S9, Jane Johnston. a
former slave. Artist E. W.
That was what the academy catalogue
said in the spring of '94.
It was almost too much for the average
mind. I began to think unutterable
things as gazed on that lovely face
hanging on the wall Of abe pleasant stud
10.
I do not know how to describe the pe
cullar charm that countenance had for
me; but could read suffering in the
past, content IN the present, and faith in
the future; summed up, 1t was nothing
less than the 'speace of God which pass
eth Understandings And, with that,
kind of human yearn1ng after love and
protection looked out OF the sad, sweet
eyes, and made me want to CRY,
think.
81 Did she come here to sit for her por-
trait2" asked my friend.
eyes, several times she was here. and
it was beautiful to see the perfect court
esq and grace with which V. received
her. If she he'd been duchess he would
not have treated her with more consider
ation''
We turned away, closing the door on
the portrait, and I have never since seen
If. About the same time Jane herself
was missed from her usual haunt, and
l know naught of her in these latter
years.
I can but hope that this aformer
slave'' has found full freedom and an
eternal home Of peace, where thanksgiv-
ings are perpetual, and where the old
women are all young.
Ex-Governor ROBERT W. FURNAs, Of
Brownsville. Horticultural Editor of The