The Republican. [volume] (Oakland, Md.) 1877-current, 1883-09-22
the world who could neither cook nor

: the world who could neither cook nor
make cheese.
! Deacon Somer's farm boosted fine
stone quarry, and he was very busily
} at work every spare moment, quarry
ing stone for the foundation of new
barn he was to build. One day Dave
drove to town, ten miles distant, with a
load of grain for market 1t was Sep
TENDER, and the market had risen dur
ing the last few days. All the neigh
boring farmers had turned out and
hurried their grain away. Deacon
Somers remained at home, quarrying
stone. Mrs. Somers rang the great
bell at noon-time, but he did not come
Then she grew alarmed
''Some one must 60 up to the quarry
and see if anything has happened, she
said. And Dawes wife was off like a
young deer before the words were out
of her mouth.
1t did not seem three minutes before
she stood at the door again, with white
lips, her dark eyes large with fright.
''Father is wedged in under a great
bowlder," she said. you and the girl
must go to him. Take the camphor
and ammonia; it may sustain his
strength until | can bring relief. am
going to ride the dappled mare to the
village and rouse the whole neighbor-
hood"
''We have no saddle gasped Mrs
Somers; 'and the mare will break your
neck"
81 can ride anything" Dawes wife
answered as she sped away. at was
taught me with other useless accom-
phshments.
A moment later she shot by the door
and down the street toward the village
She had bridled the mare and buckled
on a blanket and surcingle. She sat
like a young Indian princess, her face
white, her eyes large and dark, looking
straight ahead, and urging her mare to
the highest speed Faster, faster she
went, until the woods and fields seemed
flying pictures shooting through the air.
Halfway to the village, which was
more than two miles distant, she met
Tom Burgus, the blacksmith. She
refined up the mare so suddenly she al
most sat her down on her launches.
deacon Somers has fallen under a
bowlder in his quarry" she cried. eco
she rode on.
At the village she reused half
dozen men, and to the strongest and
most muscular she said: flake this
mare and put her to her highest speed
Tom Burgus is already there. You
two can lift the bowlder, perhaps. I
will ride with DR.. Evans"
The man mounted the mare, and was
oft like a great bird swooping close to
the earth. He swept away and out of
| sight
| When Dr. Evans reined his reeking
| horse at the quarry, Tom Burgus and
Jack Smith, who had ridden the mare
from the village, were propping up the
bowlder with iron bars, while Mrs.
Somers and her help were trying to re-
move the deacons inanimate form.
The doctor and Dawes wife sprang to
their assistance. In another moment
he was free from his perilous position,
and Dr.. Evans was applying restora-
tives. He will live" he said, ''but
in five minutes more, if help had not
come, he would have been q dead
| man. 1t is very fortunate you had a.
| swift horse in the stable and rider
who could keep her seat" and he
glanced around at Dawes wife Just in
time to see her fall in limp heap.
Deacon Somers was quite restored
to his usual health the followin NON
ing dawes wife and the dappled
mare saved my life, -" he said to Deacon
| Bradlaw, who came to call. $50 the
boy didn't make SO poor bargain
either time, neighbor, as | once
thought
The deacon recovered rapidly, and
just as rapidly Dawes wife lost strength
and color. She faded before their eyes
| like some frail plant, and at last one
day with tired sigh she drifted out
into the Great Unknown; and with her
went the bud of another life, destined
never to blossom on earth,
After they came home from the
church-yard where they had left her to
sleep, Dave found the dappled mare
fast in her stall; her halter strap had
! become a moose about her slender
throat She was quite dead.
Over the low mound where Dawes
wife, sleeps the marble mockery of
tall monument smiles in irony at those
who pause to read its flattering inscrip-
ton. 1t is so easy to praise the dead.
And the memorial window sacred to her
memory in Somerville church.-a prop
osition of Deacon Bradlaw' S-fushes in
crimson shame while suns rise and set.
And a sturdy farmhouse pulls the
pillow through Dawes stubble field, and
Sarah Jane drives ths work in his
Kitchen Ella Wheeler, tn H0Ype1''S
| Bauer.
Anticipation.