The Kenosha telegraph. [volume] (Kenosha, Wis.) 1860-1888, 1883-11-16

She pressed her hand upon it as she
thought of the wedding day when Wal
ter gave it to her. The post-ofice had
to be passed ere the pawnbroker's shop
was reached. Almost mech anically she
stepped in and inquired for letters.
One was handed her. Bessie almost
shrank from the sight Of the blue bust
ness-looking envelope. Oh, surely it
was not another dun! 1t was addressed
to "Walter r. Allison"
"But / will open it. He must not
be so troubled again today said the
slowly tore aside the envelope.
Was she mistaken? Surely it was a
check on Bank, and for three
hundred dollars. Three hundred dol
lars1 How it would tighten their bur-
dens, how it already lightened the poor
little wife's heartf Bessie wondered
how she transacted her business with
Mrs. Wilton; how she could listen and
answer intelligibly as to box-plaiting
and tailor finish, or decide between the
merits of plush bands or satin pipings.
when she was so eager to rush home
and tell Walter of the good news. And
once or twice she was obliged to look
| again at the check to convince herself
it was not "fairy gold. But before
she had reached their door she was
calm enough to enter quietly as usual.
She went up to Walters chair, kissed
! him, and put the envelope in his hands.
He opened it, looked at the check, then
at his wife, and said:
You are right, my Bessie. Yet
have | not seen the righteous forsaken,
nor his seed begging bread. feel as
if this must be for Ethel and you; do
not deserve it."
"From sister Catherine, too," he
added, pointing to the postmark which
Bessie, in her excitement, had not no.
ticed.
Such warm, coy room as it was!
The autumn sunshine came in through
the east and south windows, dancing
over the soft, gay carpet, as if to test
its brightness with the glowing flame in
the great old-fashioned Franklin stove.
Perhaps the chairs and tables stood a
trife primly in their places, but not a
speck or spot was to be found on their
polished surfaces; and you might have
turned every picture on the wall, and
| searched in every corner, but neither
dust nor cobweb would have met your
inquisitive eye. A pleasant, sunny
room was Mrs. Catherine Allison's sit
ting-room. But that small, old lady,
who lay on the sofa in the warmest
corner of the room, had little of sun
shine about her. A fretful experience
shone in her sharp, dark eyes, and the
lines about her thin lips were not pleas
ant. The other lady, also elderly, who
sat opposite Mrs. Allison, seemed more
in keeping with the surroundings.
Peace was written all over the fair,
| placid face, in the kindly eyes, the firm,
sweet mouth, the faded, wrinkled hands,
now knitting with the unhurried grace
which belongs only to the aged. Mrs.
Eunice Foster seemed an impersonation
of the calm autumn day without.
cts three weeks to. Thanksgiving, -
she said as she counted the stitches on
her seam needle.
Mrs. Foster made this brief remark
in half apologize tone, as if she rath-
er expected to be contradicted, or called
to account in some way for her state
ment; for Mrs. Allison was in the habit
OF differing from other people at first,
whether she was of their opinion or not
But at present she was too much occu-
pied with her own grievances to dissent
as she usually did.
"Well, | must say dom feel special
| ly thankful, said Mrs. Allison, drawing
the afghan over her knees give just
had one trouble after another all this
| year. There was that cheating tenant
on the upper place; and then me laid
flat O. my back in the very hottest
OF the summer; and what with the
drought and poor season the crops are
a failure. Now, here | am with a
sprained ankle, and nobody knows when
| can put foot to the ground-if / ever
can--and all my business, and the whole
place, going to rack for need of some
one to look after things" And Mrs
Allison drew long sigh of self-pity, and
wiped her eyes upon q very fine linen
cambria handkerchief.
Mrs. Foster glanced around the
bright room, so full of comforts, even
luxuries; then out upon the trim, we'll
kept grounds, and beyond to the wide
fields where the stacked corn was stand
ing in long rows. She thought of the
stores of untouched provisions in the
great, neat house, and how easy it was
for the thin, withered hands near her
to trace few words upon paper which
would turn that paper into money
value. She thought how little spared
from Mrs. Allison's abundance would
bring pleasure and thankfuIness into
less favored homes; she thought how
her friend had it in her power to uplift
some bowed with toll, to add comfort
to some sick chamber, and sparse lar
der, and thinking thus, Mrs. Foster
sighed, too.
''And. what are you signing for,
EuniceP' said Mrs. Allison, sharply.
eff am not thankful, I'll own to it.;
and you need not sit there looking like
funeral"
"Was looking gloomyp"' said Mrs.
Foster, with little laugh, for she I'M
derstood Mrs. Allison's moods too well
to be offended at her plainess of speech.
I'm sorry you have so much trouble,
Catherine, but things will mend after
awhile. -
ut is to be hoped they will. But my
foot and ankle don't seem to improve
at all, and I am almost sure I'm going
to have a spell of rheumatism, my back
and shoulders are so stiff. 1 hardly
closed my eyes last night
Dear, DEAR" said Mrs. Foster, SYM
pathetically. ''Now did you ever try
turpentine linimentP just the yelk OF
an egg well beaten, two wine-glassfuls
of turpentine, and awine-glass Of strong
cider vinegar; when they re well mixed,
three wine glassfuls of water stirred in
a little at time, It's just splendid lin
iment. Father thinks there's nothing
like it. It's too bad about your ankle,
but as | was telling father, it's mercy
you didn't break your leg"
'Humph!'' was Mrs Allison's sole
and ungracious rejoinder.
eyes, we all have our troubles" con-