The new Northwest. [volume] (Portland, Or.) 1871-1887, 1880-05-27

stricken kindred are collecting in group
at the paternal home, let us go will
Henry Hardiue to the abode Of Pete
Tubbs.
It is very singular, the misfortune
that fifteen years have brought TO th'
lot Of this man. The reader knows o
his early prospects; knows that he wa:
frugal, industrious and enterprising, and
that Lie, his wife, was a model o.
thrift, ingenuity and ambition. And
vet, there was nothing that he at
temp,ed that did not fail. Little by
llt.le lie broad acres Of their donation
claim were yielded up to the demands
Of the senior Hardlne as recompeuse for
money he had loaned him, sometimes
/ for speculaiions, but always for what
proved some sort Of losing venture.
Peters claim went first, and then
/ Lies, though she had held fast to hers
till her health failed, and then, being no
longer able 10 do the work Of the dairy
and kitchen and poultry-yard aud laun-
dry, she was compelled to Eow to ad-
verse circumstances and be turned adrift
with an incompetent, unhappy hus-
baud, broken strength aud helpless fam
ily, TO struggle hOpelessly with life's
hard endeavor, as over and over again
she asked herself the unanswerabIe
question:
"What is all this struggle for, and
what does life amount to, anyhow ?"
For some months prior to the time Of
which l now write, she had been strug-
Cling with her fate in a dilapidated
downtown boarding house In the grow
Ing city of Portland.
Peter Tubbs had strlven for several
years after their marriage to carry on
great mining projects, all Of which had
failed to meet his over-sauguiue expec-
talions; and, after repeated failures, lie
had given up all sense Of responsibility,
and thrown \ double burden upon his
long enduring spouse, whose material
cares had multiplied in inverse ratio to
her strength, until she had become a
physical wreck Of her former self, and,
like Tirzah Hardine, a hopeless mother
OF discordant family Of helpless mall
contents.
1 am sorry that veraeily compels me
to paint so dark a picture, but truth to
nature will not be ignored by the con-
scienlious artist, aud this pen picture is
nothing If not accurate.
Had Peter Tubbs permitted his wife to
exercise the native talents with which
she was so richly endowed, she could
have carried her matrimonial burden
with at least financial ease; but she soon
learned, to her cost, that while she had
a legal master, their business had no
capable, responsible head. The strug-
giles OF such a woman 20 maintain her
selfand family under such circumstances
would I'll a volume; and the lessons they
would convey are of sufficient import
anee to humanity to justify their recital.
But for the present have another sub
ject in hand, aud must postpone the fur
ther elucidation Of this everyday theme
tiIl more convenient season.
The long table was almost ready for
Mrs. Tubbs' boarders, who, being labor
ing men with ready appetites, gave her
as little trouble as possible in the prepa-
ration of their daily food. This much
WAS in her favor; but the rent was high,
the surroundings for her work incon-
venient, and the pay not over liberal.
And, to crown all, the wages other toll
belonged to her husband and were al
ways invested by him to suit his inclina-
tion.
Lie has broken rapidly in health and
appearance in these fifteen years OF un-
congenial endeavor; and yet you will see
at a glance, as you enter her dining
room and take note Of herself and her
surroundings. that no disappointment
can crush her spirit. The same glorious
eyes gaze at you from beneath the same
oval forehead, wTinkled now, but sur
mounted by the same waving mass OF
silken hair. You wonder, as you gaze
at her, that the hardships Of her life
have not spoiled her complexion nor de-
stroyed the wonderful beauty OF her
symmetrical figure. But your wonder
ceases when you reflect a moment; for
you know that her life is two fold; that
that which is, though altogether differ
ent from that which should have been,
has been so far conquered by her indom-
liable courage that it has not, cannot
crush her.
"How are you to-day, Aunt Lie 2''
The wife Of Peter Tubbs was startled.
Henry Hardine, though awkward, half
clad and ungainly, possessed voice so
like the well-remembered one Of John
Ingleton-her John-that its very sound
rolled back a tidal wave OF olden memo
ries over her soul aud brought crimson
bushes to her cheeks and brow.
"Why, halloai Uncle Pete. You
here?" continued the boy. 81 s'posed
you'd a been of to the mines.r
NO" replied the uncle, "Tve had
enough O. the mines. Ipropose to spend
the rest Of my days in ease and comfort"
YOU'RE in luck now, Uncle Pete"
said Henry. 'Irs an i'll wind that blows
nobody any good"
"Whars the matter?' exclaimed
Mrs. Tubbs, turning deathly pale as she
spoke, and clutehing at a chair for sup
port. "Surely my father is not dead ?''
"Yes; that's it. Died this morning.