The Kenosha telegraph. [volume] (Kenosha, Wis.) 1860-1888, 1882-06-23
JACOB AND SALLIE.

his fathers before him, and his fathers
fathers. The Storms were hard-work.
ing, money getting race. Jacob Storm,
the father of our hero, constantly said
that "he couldn't see why under the
shinin' sun man needed an eddication;
7 any rate, morn 'nough to reckon his
crops and cattle" Jacob, the younger,
had once expressed a desire to attend
school out of town; but Storm, senior,
killed his ambition in that respect with
O few words:
"The old red school house was good
enough for your father and your grand
father, and when you get all you can
t.le. Q Ill find plenty of work fox you ;
it shan't be said that one Of the old
Storm blood ever hired out to work for
strangers"
The inhabitants of Putneyville were
not all conservatives of the Storm order.
Sons of rich formers were In college,
daughters Of Woodworking fathers and
mothers were away at school, and Put
NEVILLE felt their influence when they
came homo for vacation.
One Of the gayest, brightest, prettiest
girls in town was Sallie Rivers. Her
father had poorer farm and fewer
bonds than his neighbor, Jacob Storm.
But the Rivers family worshiped another
idol. From the mother down, every one
valued a good education. The father
had been denied it, as he had been the
eldest of alarge family, and compelled
to aid in supporting the rest. He was
= man of excellent natural ability, and
extravagantly fond of reading.
When his girls and boys grew around
him, they heard important topics dis
cussed at the table; they knew all about
Congress and our relations with foreign
powers, and once Mr.. Rivers had been
called upon to represent his town in the
Legislature of the State.
The boys of the family were compelled
10 work their way through college,
and Sallie. the iovial, was determined to
follow their example.
No wonder Jacob Storm, Jr., adored
Ballie. He had lived near her for years,
and carried her dinner pail back and
forth for her, had purposely misspelled
words to let her pass above him, and in
all her maddest pranks he had reioiced
while others blamed. Sallie's brothers
were fond of her, and never for one mo-
ment thought it either unladylike or sin
full for her to share all their sports. When
one Of their neighbors gave party, the
verbal invitation was generally, "Sallie
and the rest of the boys"
Sallie liked it; she was full of bound
ing life; she hated silly airs and as her
brothers were, with one exception, older
than herself, surely it was quite proper
for her to do as they did. When Tom
wrote home from college that his dear
little sister "must not go out in the hot
sun or she might spoil her complexion, I"
ballie wrote back =" Don't bother your
dear old maid. / care more for good
sound health than anything else; and
those who really love me won't mind a
few freckles." Sallie went on in her
own way she few from one end to the
other OF the large farm house, now sing
ing a scrap Of some familiar song, now
chanting in full, clear tones some grand
old anthem. Jacob Storm had once
called her the "Will-o'- the-wisp," and
the name fitted her so we'll the boys
took it up. The widest colt on the
farm would obey Sallie; she feared moth
ing went and came as she pleased, and
accomplished in one morning more than
her mother and Huldah, the maid, could
possibly do together.
Naturally this warm-hearted. active.
cheerful girl was the light of her faith
er's eyes. He could not send her away
from home like the boys, not even for
the coveted education. For three wears
in her teens she bore the restraint as
meekly as possible, but the fourth year
could not be borne. How much the girl
suffered In secret no one knew.
Father" she said, one day, as she
sprung from her saddle, "my mind is
made up. l shall go into the mill and
earn money enough to attend school,"
"But mother can't spare you, daugh-
ter"
"Mothsr is willing, said Sallie; "she
always wanted to study herself"
"Well, we seem to need you here,
somehow" said the old gentleman,
stroking the colts neck to hide his feel
ings.
eyes, father, and you shall have me.
can work hard and come home to
spend every vacation; and won't you be
glad to see me?"
Mr.. Rivers led the colt away, and did
not answer.
"Why not ?" he said to himself; "why
shouldn't she have fair chance?
suppose / might sell off the meadow to
Storm, and send my only girl away in
good shape but it will spoil the farm,
and I hate to-"
He could not think Of the house with
ont her he dreaded the long winter
evenings, and the warm summer days,
without his darling. and at last he sat
down in one corner of the old barn on
an old grindstone, which Sallie had
often turned for him. He sat there q
long time to overcome his selfishness
and at last, as he heard the girls ring
ing voice calling him to supper, he rose
mp, saying, "She's my only girl; and
she shall have chance, come what
WILL"
The boys were delighted. They were
proud of Sallie, and quite sure she
would 10 herself and the family credit
To be sure, Toms pride was hurt wher
he heard she was to work in the mill al
Glenmere; but the new house which
Tom had urged his rather to build hat
cost more than they expected, and every
year some new machinery must be pur
chased. It was twenty miles to Glen
mere = twenty miles from home-Iove
care and comfort but Sallie did moi
talter, To be sure, it was trial to leave
them all, hard thing to select from hel
little store of girls belongings; and 9
small room in clearinghouse would
never afford the delight that her OWE
large, sunny chamber did. Sallie felt a
thousand tears, but did not shed one.
although her mother and Huldah went
profusely as the carriage drove away,
with Sallie's father on the back seat with
her, and Jacob Storm in front with
Sallie's brother Dixie.
Dixie was younger than. his sister, and
In deep grief at her loss. 1t did not
comfort him to be told that she would
not board among strangers, but become
q member of Mrs Mora's family. He
did not choose to listen when Jacob told
him that Sallie was too wise and toe
good to remain buried in Putneyville.
Dixie was Is, and at that age boy con-
slders everything burning shame -
IL. ~