The Colfax chronicle. [volume] (Colfax, Grant Parish, La.) 1877-1981, 1881-03-19

BOO uHIu an IuOuCy euoo WO oOSii
a-spendin' ruther freely didn't come in
very plenty any more. Then, what with
it all, Linda got sort o. cross and fault
findin'. l didn't seem to do nothin' to
suit her, an once in q while, jest for
comfort, l slipped into dram-shop as
/ passed along and took drink, for
which l had sneakin' love that made
me feel ashamed an miserable when
ever give way tot, / s'pose because
my poor, sufferin' mother he'd sech a
dreadful horror o.. drinkin'. But the
more 1 done the thing, you know, the
more didn't care, an this didn't MAKE
matters at home no better. l got kind
o. confessed. Couldn't think clear
about my work when / had any, nor do
nothin' / undertook quite egzactly
straight, an people seemed to sort O.
not care for my help. Money got closer
an closer, and we jest lived from hand
to mouth, with Linda never givin' akind
look nor speakin' an encouragin' word
any more. An, at last, says she to me
one day, I'll tell ye what it is. Martin
Brown, I've put up with your shiftless-
ness jest as long as l mean to, an I'm
goin' to take little Willie an go home
to mother, therer'
90 Lindar' says I, all shaken up by
sech threatenin', don't talk in that
way, don't, Linda, don't. I'm sartin
that I'll have stiddy work now right
along, an won't take another drink
indeed. l haiD't took one for a week
an we'll be SO happy agin-don't talk
that way, I'll do anything We say
30, yes, yes" says she. you're al
ways goin' to have things all so an so,
but I've been cheated by ye times
enough. ! wish, with all my heart, I'd
married Stephen White, who knows how
to take care o. me as man ought"
My blood boiled up hot at that an l
jumped on my feetan' said what never
meant at all, was so mad.
Lord knows" says 1. 81 wish ye' d
q married Stephen White! / couldn't
want anything worse to befall him sure.
fer we've led me dogs life ever since
I've known ye."
An with this rushed off like wild
man, an never come back again till
late ct night, an then l found Linda,
the child an all the house belongin's
gone. Awfully cut up jest run. with
my heart in my mouth, to look fer her
at her mothers, but the door was
slammed in my face an fer weeks an
weeks never got sight o. her nor the
baby, though walked the streets con-
slant an wrote letters implorin' an inn
plorin' an tellin' her that never could
live without her it seemed to me,
an l never meant at all what l said
about her leadin' me dogs life. But
she gave no sign o. hearin' word from
me, an one day wheDI was all wrought
up with my distress, 1 see Stephen
White a-comin' out o. the house where
l was sure Linda was stayin', an all hot
with burnin' rage darted after him as
he went stridin', in his lordly way,
down the street, an jest as he turned
on me / made dash at him that
knocked him to the ground, an afore
relied what l was dom, an thinkin'
an feelin' that he was the cause of all
Linda's cruel treatment o. me,
snatched my knife out Of my pocket
with the mad notion to kill him on the
spot, but Jest then was caught up by
the policemen who had been a-watchin'
me, an l was hustled of to kind o.
trial in which l felt too sullen to try to
make any defense at all. So / went to
States prison, mem, for term o. years
that shet the door always tween me
an Linda, fer when / he'd served out
my time, an hurried back, she'd got q
bill an was married, mem, yes, married
to Stephen White, an I couldn't go nigh
her nor see my little boy that they'd
put, l was told, where he'd not learn
what disgraceful scamp he had for a
father. 1t was dreadful, mem. It
Almost broke my heart. Fer wasn't q
bad man. loved my wife an / loved
my child as well as the best, an it
seemed to knock away the last prop of
hope an encouragement when found
that nothin' could do or say would
ever bring 'em back to me any more.
jest felt as if there wasn't nothing to
live fer. an l kind o. give myself up to
a rovin' life, not KNOWN nor carin'
where l went, dom an odd job here
an there Jest to keep the breath in me,
fer, We mind, mem, it don't make much
difference whether a man has anythin'
to live fer or no, he keeps right on eat
in an drinkin' all the same.
At first / used to kind o. watch for
Linda. who went a-sailin' past in grand
style, never SEEM me at all, an l
looked sharp at every child that came
along the street in the hope that one o.
'em might be my Willie that was q
baby when seen him last, but oh, dear
Lord, I've never set eye on him from
that day to this, and mebbe you won't
believe it, but my heart has jest been
hungry fer the boy all these years, mem,
an the sight o. him would make me
stronger man, I'm sure.
Well, bimeby. when l took it all in
that Linda was lost to me, an never
would give me pleasant word nor look
agin, an that I wasn't likely to see the
boy, I felt as though II like to get clean
away from the place where I'd been SO
happy an so miserable, mem, an I
startled of fer nowhere in patricia
workin' an beggin' my way long with
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