The Portland daily press. [volume] (Portland, Me.) 1862-1921, 1882-06-13
[woman's Journal
The Value of a Tear.
BY MRS. E. C. WHITNEY.

prominent of all the Huckleberry County
Clairvoyants, who could number her mirac-
ulous healings by the score-was stricken
down herself and-dependent No, she
would not be dependent. She would cure
herself. She would have no physician, not
even one of her own persuasion, II he came
in an earthly form. If she must, she would
summon to her aid those spiritual advisers
whom she had frequently consulted in her
treatment of other and more extreme cases
than her own; though, to judge from the
writings and facial contortions as she ut
tered aloud this heroic resolution, the signs
in her own case were not at all promising
even at this early stage of her malady. But
she valued her own especial gifts too highly
to be Inundated now. That "now" was
the golden opportunity to throw a little light
into the benighted traction of the world in
which she lived, no one could doubt. To a.
chieve triumph through spiritual means
over this terrible infammatory rheumatism
and right under the very letters, too, of Dr.
Alopathy's and Homepa hy's gilt-signs,
which swung their impertinent length so
obtrusively over the front entrance to her
little suite of rooms in the lower story OF
Mays block Every naturally rousing her ire
az she gazed heavenwards,) would be VIC
tory well worth suffering awhile as martyr
twin. Ali She'd live to see those graceless
sons of Escuapus and Hahnemann hum
bed and when once their eyes were opened
it was to be hoped they would remain open.
"Now''-endeavorin to sit upright in
bed without wincing at the awful wrench
the effort to maintain her position gave her
shoulder-blades-' YOU fixing her keen
gray eyes upon something in remote cor
ner OF the room invisible to every one but
herself) ''are not wanted here today You
NAV vanish as you came. And as for you
she continued, gazing at the gas-burner
with horrible grimace and groan as new
twist of the neck brought fresh spasm OF
pain, causing her to address the unseen
with considerable asperity, Il did not sum
mon you. If had such face as yours,
would stay buried. L would not tfot IL OUT,
neverl Oughp'
..What dreadful talk, Aunt Abbyr' ex-
claimed fair little g!rl of thirteen, who
entered the bedroom at this moment bearing
on tray bowl of steaming herb drink Or
dered by the madame an hour before.
"Whom are you talking top
Yang Poo, the young vagrant. He
knows | cannot talk Chinese, and his face
is enough to set one wild-so ghastlyp'
Don't, Aunt Abby, DON'T" cried little
ann deprecatingly but doesn't he speak
anything bnt Chinese in the other world,
Auntie?"
'Oh, don't poster me with questions. |
wish Dr. Redfoot would come. I've called
him three times, but most likely he's off on
some other professional flight"
''And DIR. Redfoot may remain off on
some other professional tramp, or flight, as
you call it. Here is something worth hun
dred of DIR. Redfoot's prescriptions" ex-
claimed Amt Abbys husband, as he tiptoed
softly into the room with heated stove-lid
carefully poised on the end of a litter, and
noiselessly approached the bed.
s'Merciful me! What have you got there,
Mr.. Sykes? Oh, Yang Poo has dered me
what to do till Redfoot comes; though he
has such an ugly face declare can't trust
the man."
ssWouldn't try. Now see here; I'll just ap-
ply this hot gridde wrapped in soft flame
to the back of your neck, and you will see
how quickly twill steam away the pain and
relieve YOU"
= ..And have Redfoot laugh at your pains
when he comes T'
y" ssYes, can bear even that humiliation as
long as / am not acquainted with the gentle
man, and never expect to view his celestial
liniments with these mortal eyes. Will you
try my remedy, Mrs. SykesT'
''No, there's Redfoot now. Yes, its he,
and declare he has new recruit with him.
Hsrkw-shutting her eyes drowsily, and
speaking in a coarse masculine voice sup
posed to be genuine Indian utterance,
:. 'Squaw no take stove-lid old sqlaw steep
Ningla-poot weed with sweet white maiden's
tears and battle the aching joints, and thank
the Great Spirit for growing the weed so
plentifully.' There now," suddenly relaxing
the rigidity of her muscles and making few
passes over her forehead. shaking as she did
so the supernatural influences from the tips
of her fingers. did you take down that re-
ceipt?"
s,But where are the maiden's tears to
come from, Auntie? / can't cry for the life
of me this morning; I'm as happy as bird
Cant cry to order, heyP' asked Uncle
Sykes roguishly.
fHark, mol oh, believe l shall die before
get this prescription filed"
$50 you think you won't have this griddle
applied to the nape of your neck, Mrs.
Sykesr'
'sAlfred Tennyson SYKES, be quiet. Hark,
there's Jane May crying now, as good luck
will have 1t. She always takes this time in
the morning to weep for something she can't
have. Run, Ann, with mug, and beg
tear or two; then to the druggists and ask
for this herb; he will understand it dare
say, if don't; ugh,ughP'
The Mays occupied the second floor of
their tenement house, renting the lower and
upper ones to families with professional
heads, including that of A. T. Sykes, Jr.
When little Ann modestly appeared at the
kitchen door with the pewter porringer half
hidden beneath her apron, Mr.. May, who
had dispatched breakfast with his usual alac-
rity, was tilted back in his chair engaged in
the laudable effort to extract few choice
passages from Millions paradise Lost.,' for
the entertainment of Mrs. May. Her intel
lectual cravings had been somewhat stimu-
lated of late by remark dropped in her
hearing. Mrs. Soule, the minister's wife,
had observed to the sewing circle that in her
opinion no one could be called thoroughly
educated person who failed to give honorable
place in her list of stndies to the classic
works of Milton, Having been SO fortunate
at Christmas as to receive from her Sunday
school class not only copy of the same,
but also small black patent-leather-covered
volume of "Pollock' sCourse of Time,' "a
work likewise recommended by Mrs. Soule
as worthy of perusal-it is not to be won
dered at that she now bankered to taste of
their riches; and all the more as she desired
to stand inferior to none of the parish ladies
in Mrs. Soules respect. She was entirely
unaware that small library of the above
mentioned works had already surreptitiously
found it's way to Smithville, each purchaser
supposing her order to be the only one sent
to the book agent in Slab City, few miles
away. Thus, at the moment of little Ann
Mobiles arrival at the top landing of the
stairs leading to the May suite of apartments,
Mr.. May, as before stated, was endeavor-
more solid food than she had been wont to
partake of, by commencing course of read
ing aloud, while she, poor woman, was con-
stantly punctuating the exercise by severe
and prolonged fits of coughing. She had
caught hard cold sitting in the kitchen af-
ter the fire had gone out, one night, porting
over TIE precious volumes. Maria May, who.
was looked upon by the rest as the ''fowIer
of the family" was practising the Devils
Cascade" in an adjoining room, the door of
which stood open, and giving it full pedaled
and faithful expression. Heloise and Abe
lard were playing horse in the front hall in
close proximity to their parents, that their
festive gambols might not be hampered by
a feeling of loneliness. Henry Clay and q.
Taylor, the twins, were angrIly discussing
some question of minor Importance, Jane
was crying Justify as usual, while the baby,
who had bumped his head against table
leg in the attempt to fly from a high stool,
was giving eloquent utterance to his suffer-
ings. The canary had joined his notes to
the family opera, while Mary, the maid-of-
al-work, was industriously clearing the
range and emptying couple of hods of coal
therein.
1t was not surprising that i'll the general
i A. L