The Wellington enterprise. [volume] (Wellington, Ohio) 1867-188?, 1882-05-17
NUMBER. s5.

Mrs. Graham took her departure, 90.
knowledgikg within herself that her
errand was failure, and Mrs. Dean,
left to herself at last, indulged In nap,
with the knitting-Work in her lap-A
nap wherein she dreamed that the fifty
dollar bill had taken to itself legs and
was running away from crowd Of pur-
suers, herself among the number.
When she walked up, reused by the
noise of coal being poured upon the
stove, candle was burning and Mr..
Dean was laughing at her.
Why, Betsey," " said he, 81 thought
you never. were going to wake again
Here you sat, with the fro dead out
and I've had to kindle it up again.
Bless mer' said Mrs. Dean. g.
must have been asleep quite q while
But"-as she started up she saw thai
the old wall-pocket opposite was empty
-" where is that old number of the
CEtakerUille Glarto,sr ~ ssg1l
'.It was last weeks paper" said Mr..
Dean, calmly. =. We had both Of us
read it, so Just took it to kihdle the
| fire."
I" You burned 1t upPn g5sg
"Yes." said Mr.. Dean; "I burned il
up. Why shouldn't II P''
For half an hour Mrs. Dean sat silent
and never spoke word. And her firsi
utterance was: 1900
ats the Lords Judgment upon
mer' . Tef = 7i'iH
Mrs. Dean was aresolute woman, full
of character. She went to her table
drawer, took out q sheet of paper and
wrote to DR.. Bridgman. inclosing . dol
lar toward lame Dick Bodley's cart and
horse She sent another dollar to Mrs.
Graham for the poor little O'Haras,
and promised to donate barrel of rus
sets, . bushel of potatoes and some Of
her husbands cast-of clothes to cut
over for the children. And she sent
for Helen Hurst to come and see her.
'sI can't lend you ten dollars, my
dear" said she, .'because haven got
it. But I'll tell you what t1iu do.
I'll let you make your home here as
long as you please. There's nice
spare room, and it's an eighth of q mile
nearer than Mrs. Swipes' to the district
school"
30. how very, very good you arer'
said Helen, her eyes swimming with
grateful tears. .auEzE
"Goodr' cried Mrs. Dean. 'Pm
just beginning to see what q selfish,
greedy creature I've been all my life.
But you're welcome, my dear. and your
board shall not cost you q cent"
She opened her parlor. shook out the
curtains and built q fire in the air-tight
wood-stove.
Dean likes the parlor." said she,
because it has such nice south VIM
dows, and don't see why we shouldn't
enjoy it."
She baked fresh batch of ginger
oar,f osloaf 20 Al6 Mru
Nudge; she took out basket of hick-
orynuts for poor little Harry Jones, who
was trying TO crack dried up pignuts on
the stone by the roadside; she renewed
her subscription to the church chari-
| ties.
al can't be very liberal" she said;
"but i am determined to do what ]
can.,t
That's right, my dear-that's
rightr' said her husband. ''We shall
be prosperous. never fear. I'm awfully
sorry about burning up your fifty-dollar
bill; but, if it's going to open your
heart like this, it's the best thing that
could have happened to us"
Mrs. Dean was sweeping out the
| kitchen. She looked around with a
smile as she moved the wide-leaved
table which always stood under the
wall-pocket, and took down the pocket
itself, q rude structure of splints, lined
with red cambria and tied with cords
and 'tassels of red worsted, to dust it
| out. .ss.. ..-..54..-.
Yes" she said. 81 am afraid I Das
getting to be a little mfserly, and
Why, what thisP''a g $50 - sha lis
Mr.. Dean stopped and picked up q
slip of crumpled dark-green paper,
which had fallen out from the wall
pocket as his wife turned it upside
down and tapped her finger against it
to remove all possible dust.
I" It's the ffty-dollar billr' said he,
with mouth and eyes opening in unison.
"lt must have slipped down from the
folds of the newspaper and lodged
here'
THE Lord has sent it back to us."
said Mrs. Dean, revereDtly;. "and He
has sent lesson. wise and merciful,
with it, - -
/ WELL" said Mr.. Dean, after mo-
ment or two of silence, there's les
son in almost everything He does, il
we did but know it.
And all the theologians in the world
could not have improved upon the faith
of this simple. unlettered old farmer
Saturday Night.