The Colfax chronicle. [volume] (Colfax, Grant Parish, La.) 1877-1981, 1881-08-06


of them green Potter apples. l see him
come in with his pockets full and l
knew he'd be jes' so. Ny yarbs'll cure
him. If they don't right off L II start
for the Doctor"
"Well, WE'LL" cried poor Mrs. Bitter
man, wringing her hands, anything!
anythingr'
Dianthy poured her tea down the
boys throat, and then began to rub him
vigorously with her. hand, which she
dipped from time to time into another
hot preparation beside her. In five
minutes he breathed more easily and
his contortions ceased, and in half an
hour, after second dose of Dianthy's
magic tea he lay sleeping like baby.
Then she swathed him in flannel wet
in the stramonium water with which
she had been rubbing him, and the fam
lily dispersed. In the morning the boy
was up and about, and in day or two
was quite himself again.
A wonderful change had come over
Dianthy during the progress of the
scene. Her face, usually vacant and
impressive, was all alight. Her square
chin quivered. her touch was soft and
her ponderous step grew quick and
light. But Mrs. Bitterman did not
seem to notice anything unusual about
her, nor did she ever show any further
appreciation of the important services
Dianthy rendered her on that somewhat
momentous occasion than the grudging
"Good night. I'm sure I'm obliged to
you," with which she had dismissed her
when the scene was over. But to the
other boarders Dianthy had become an
interesting character.
There were, however, very few OPP
portunities for studying her, for the
poor woman's 'lack of calculation" as
Mrs. WUffray called it, made her toll
last all day long, and it was not until
several days after that found her I'M
occupied. Then she was sitting on the
doorstep as we drove up from ride to
the village.
"You look tired, Dianthy," 1 OBJ
served
Eyes, be-" she responded, quietly;
81 gem ally be-
'sBut you sleep well?' went on,
wishing that / could think of something
to say.
Law, yes" said Dianthy, gravely;
a" but somehow I'm allersbehind; can't
seem to ketch up nohow. Can't ketch
up with my work nor nothin' else, hur-
rvs fast as kim"
'It's too bad, Dianthy," said, SYM
pathetically.
She edged up little nearer to me
on the doorstep, and spoke more conf
dentially.
NO." she continued. 81 can't ketch
up with the world anyhow. Now,
faint but a little while ago they was
a-sayin' Pierce was President, but now
it's a man named Grant, amt it? But
l must go and strain my milk" and Di-
anthy hurried away.
One afternoon my nurse had been
drawing my little Bessie in her carriage
up and down the level sward in front of
the door. and carelessly left her to go
up the hill for moment. Twas sitting
by the window sewing when the car
riage began to move down the inclined
plane and into the rye-iield. The child
gave little shrek, and looked up.
She was already rod away, and had
COuSluCidDit III utT
journey down the hill.
My eye took in the situation at a
glance-the long slope of the rye-field,
the jagged rocks at the end, then the
steep descent into the brook.
sprang after it, but l stumbled in
the moist earth and fell. The horror,
the despair of that moment shall never
forget. when suddenly there rushed by
me the gaunt figure of Dianthy. With
tremendous plunges she gained upon
the little carriage, which was now and
then delayed by striking against some
obstacle, till just as the rocks began to
rear their broken heads above the
shaggy underbrush that bounded the
rye-field she caught and held it. Then
the child, who had been paralyzed by
fright, began to cry. Mrs. Woffray, the
nurse and l were at hand, and Dianthy
sank almost fainting to the ground.
knelt beside her and embraced her
again and again, while the tears coursed
down my face. The gratitude, the &C.
stacy of that moment were ennobline
known them.
1t sounds simple thing enough, this
deed of Dianthy's; but to me it was ex-
allied heroism. She had saved my
child. and throughout the remainder OF
the summer, which was made happier
by the early departure of the Bitter
mans for some more congenial abiding
place, the bond which was formed by
the brook that day between Dianthy
and me strengthened continually, till I
felt for that homely, supplemented old
woman a tenderness of love which was
almost sacred.
In the fall we returned to our city
home, but Mrs. Woffray wrote us often
of Dianthy. One day telegram came
announcing that Dianthy was very ill;
another one followed the day after.
Dianthy was dead.
A year later was sitting in the par
lor of New York hotel, when suddenly
l saw an acquaintance enter. 1t was
Mrs. Bitterman. the mother of the I'M
fortunate "Nonnie." The recognition
was mutual, and was really glad to
see any one who reminded me of that