The Worthington advance. [volume] (Worthington, Minn.) 1874-1908, 1880-04-01
A FRIEND IN NEED.
By HARRIET E. 8. CRESsY.

AuoEo, tuat III just my case, 6a1Q OLD
Mrs. Williams, taking o her glasses
and laying aside the paper that can
tanned the poem alluded to. ...:4 -
"Not quite 80 bad as that" replied
the neighborly friend whom she ad-
dressed. .'.-.:. Il
well, I expect it will come to that;
next month I have got to be toted
down to my daughters, in Jersey. You
know I stay two years with Betsy, here,
and then two years with Emily. I
have done that ever since my son
moved off West. He said at the time
he went I could 60 with him, but he
knew that would be impossible, with
my feeble health, so it was safe to make
me the offer. When our farm was sold
in Jersey, he took the money, came
here to York State, bought farm, the
one adjoining this where Betsy now
lives, and had the deed made out in
his own name. He had no right
to do it, of course; and why the girls
and I allowed him to is now mystery
to me; for they should have shared
equally with him, and I been allowed
tho use Of third; and, then, my two
boys in California should have had
something. But we were all so foolish
as to allow that selfish Cal to get it
into his own hands. The girls got mar
ried, or I cannot say how they would
have got along, and I am left on their
hands,"
"Don't he send You any money to
help yourself with?"
"No, not a cent; he has got wife
that would prevent his doing that, if
she could, even if he were inclined to.
She treated me shamefully the little
time I lived with her, before they
moved West. She little realized or
cared how hard I worked to help earn
the property she was then living on.
With house work, dairy, six children
one of whom died when he was IL
years old-to take care of, never having
any hired help within doors, but one or
two hired men to cook for good part
of the year, generally had plenty of
work to do. For months together, in
spring and summer, / arose at 4 in the
morning, and was so hurried through
the whole day that T could not find
time to sit down long enough to comb
my hair until 8 in the evening. And
after that hour I often had about an
hours work to do before could 1etire.
We always had good deal of compa-
ny, too, and q schoolmarm and school
master to board five or six weeks, each,
during the year; for it was then the
fashion for teachers to board around,
particularly in the rural districts. l
know I thought it something of tax
to put up teachers and children's din
ners SO many weeks in the year, and
what I remember as one of
my worst tasks was going around
into the cold rooms in winter
for we never kept but one fire-and
making up five or six beds. It is al
most a wonder the little children did
not freeze, sleeping in those great cold
rooms; but I did my best to try to keep
them comfortable, going around to
their rooms every night and tucklng ur
the bed-clothes, until they were fairly
grown up. My husband used to tell
me I made slave of myself for my
children, but I did it with a free will,
and would do the same again if I were
to live my life over again. When my
little boy died know nearly mourned
myself to death; and then how glad I
was had always tried to make him so
happy and comfortable. And then,
when the other two boys went off to
California, I was glad 1 had been SO
good and motherly to them. They
were young, one Is and the other Is
It seemed almost like burying them to
let them go; but their father thought
it might be the best for them in the
end. But he did not live long enough
afterward to know whether they were
successful or not, having tied in less
than year after they went. They have
now been there six years, have both
married, and write that they do nok
much more than make q good living"
Don't they ever send you any money,
either?"
mo, they don'tknow but I have plen-
tyto be comfortable, as have never
written them about Calls unkind be-
havior.
Il should write and tell them about
it, Mrs. Williams, for should say he is
the greatest scamp outside of prison
walls"
"on]y selfish, Mrs. Blandon, that is
ALL" replied the poor old lady, tears
gushing from her eyes.
'Well, do your two California boys
write you kind and frequent letters2"
They do not write very often, hav-
ing families of their own to care for,
but write kindly, though not as I do to
Il am glad I never had any children,
Mrs. Williams. / believe my money
serves me better"
IF you had them you woald- find
them inexpressibly dear to you"
mo doubt would, but I would want
them all girls. I believe daughter is
a daughter all her life; and son is o
son till he gets him a wife,"
my daughters are very kind to me-"
said the old lady.
"And their husbands?" asked Mrs.
Blandon.
"Well, Betsy's husband is a good
sort OF man, you know, and is kind in
his way. But the one in Jersey, Emil
ly's husband, would rather I were any
where else than there; ten to one if he
speaks to me after I get there but I
have to go, or else, over the hills to the
poor house," Here the poor woman
burst out crying. "But Emily likes to
have me with her, and I think do her
great deal of good by taking care of
the children, and doing the light work,
but he-well, I suppose it would be bet
ter il 1 were dead and out of the way,
and I sometimes think the end is not
far off"
Il hope it is a good ways off," said
her friend, land now that / have heard
your story, which is really pitiable one,
:! will make you an offer. You know,