Iron County register. [volume] (Ironton, Iron County, Mo.) 1867-1965, 1881-11-10
a long letter to his mother, explaining

she had destined for him; his determin-
alton to be a farmer, the rare qualities
of the wife he had chosen, and her emf
nent fitness to adorn that sphere of life;
his warm affection for his mother and
father; and the hope which he and Alice
| INDUCED that it would be their happi-
ness to minister to the comfort of both
in their declining years. 1t was good,
honest, sensible letter, but it made Mrs.
Penny furious.
She tore her hair, stamped, screamed,
| flung herself on the floor, went into viO-
lent Mysteries, and then lay for half the
| day on the sofa, sobbing and moaning.
| Utterly unreasonable it was, as every
one must see; but not unnatural. The
cherished purpose of five-and-twenty
years had been, just Us it seemed on the
eve of accomplishment, irrevocably
dashed into ruins, and the poor lady's
desolation of soul was complete. Her
boy, her hope, her one love, passiOnately
loved under that queer, eccentric, auto
cratic, half comic exterior, was dead to
her, and the cloud which had taken him
away plotted out all the brightness of
life. Presently, like David of old, she
arose from the earth, and washed and
anointed herself, and changed her APP
parel, and caused bread to be set before
her, and she did eat. There was moth
ing now to weep for, to toll for, to JOY
for any longer. tb iHsgf --t $40
When her husband approached her,
somewhat awe-struck, with hOmely
words of comfort, she repealed him with
fierce scorn, and imperatively forbade
all reference to the subject in the house.
hold. No stranger had intermeddled
with her joy; her bitterness was all her
own. She went about her household
and farm affairs as usual, but more ST.
lently, with pale face, compressed lips,
and a fierce fire in her clear, gray eyes.
Then, one fine day, the old gates
swung back, and she saw the young
man coming up to the house with his
bride, whose face was rather pale and
anxious, on his arm. She went out and
stood on the top step of the doorway to
receive them, her tail form drawn to its
full height, her gray hair blown hither
and thither by the wind, and her face
burning as with white heat.
Mother" said Gus, as he stretched
out his arms to her.
"No mother of yours, ungrateful
boy" shrieked she. Gan that is past
and buried. You have scorned my love (;
you have trampled on my heart. And
now 90 and take YOUR beggar- bride, and
work out your own low tastes, and ditch,
and delve, and starve! Never more
shall you enter these doors; you are no
child of mine!''
"Nay; but, MOTHER" he exclaimed,
aghast at her angry vehemence, shear
me-"
cit is too late; will never listen to
your voice again. 1t has no music for
me now; nor will have till I die. You
have made me of less than no account,
and blot you like an evil dream from
my memory"
As she spoke she struck the door-post
with such force that the blood trickled
from the bruised and wounded hand,
but, without needing it, she went on:
ssThe sight of you burns and scorches
me. What was love is in me as is rag
ing fire. If 1 could have coined my
heart for you, to give you joy, l would
have done it; and you have made Of my
love only the plaything of an idle hour,
to be cast aside for the first light fancy
that crossed it. And now go your own
way. Go with my-no, will not curse
you! but go without my blessing, and
never look upon my face again"
| "Wait minute, Amelia" said the
slow sonorous voice of old Penny, who
had stood silent, with bowed head dur
ing this fierce Outburst. His head was
erect now, and Gus, as he looked at
him, could but think he had never seen
his father so much man before. ....-
"Penny, how dare you?' exclaimed
his wife, almost breathless with amaze
ment. 1t was unprecedented for him to
address her by her Christian name.
"We dare do much" said the old
man, s'as we nivver thought we could
have done till the time for it come. l
know, Amelia, you have allus TUX me
for quiet, good -natured fool; and so
am most ways, most ways; but l amt
SIGH fool as not to know that this house,
and this farm, and all the rest of it is
mine. Yes, mine; every rood and ev-
settlements when we married, an it all
became mine. didn't want it, and 1
didn't care about it; and l shouldn't
never ha' said nuthin' about it IS long as
all had gone quiet. But l won't see the
boy wronged. The house is mine, and
IS long as it's mine he's welcome to it.,
and all that's in it; hearty, yes, hearty"
1t was another of Mrs. Penny'S little
| UllSIdk0S. LII ucI SCOI
of any interference in her affairs she
had married without consulting any
friends, and without taking any precau-
tons to secure to herself the control of
her property; and so quiet and submis-
siye had her husband been that no sus-
picion of her position had flashed upon
her till now, when, indeed, she realized
it in its full force. She stood as one
thunderstruck, but taking in everything
with such helpless acquiescence as that
with which we regard the wonders of a
dream.
The old man approached his son,
shook him by the hand warmly, and
kissed his niece, whose eyes, dry till
now, answered his kindness with re-
sponsive dews.
"Your mother" said he, "is fossil
Gated" (perplexeG "like with disap-
pointment and the vexation it. Thee'd
better not worry her now. 1t 'ud be
better, mayhap, if you'd 60 away for a
| xryooL fhon vOu Gonna hack and all mil