The Douglas independent. [volume] (Roseburg, Or.) 187?-1885, 1883-12-22
What Came Of It.
Helen E. starrett in Chicago Weekly Maga-
zine.l

zine.
Mr.. Smith missed the train by Just
just one-half minute and he was In Q
furious temper over the matter. He
lived In the suburbs and went into the
city every day to his place of business
Not once in three months did such 9
thing happen as his being late for the
train, but on this occasion he felt like
declaring that half the time he had tc
rush himself clear out of breath to reacl
it or else miss it. He was In that exas
perated state of mind where he wanted
to blame somebody, abuse somebody
a state of mind which, in condition ol
development little nearer the savage
would impei to acts Of cruelty towards
any thing or any person on whom
anger could be wreaked. Oh
course the person on whom
he could most quickly and with the
least impunity cast blame was his wife
1t was oil her fault. Why couldn't she
manage household affairs SO that he
could get his breakfast earlier? He
worked like slave at his business ter
hours day, he gave her full control oi
the house and furnished money to run
it; she had a servant and it was pure
and utter shiftlessness in her that
breakfast could not be ready in proper
time. Thus soliloquized Mr.. Smith, as
with anger-fashing eyes he saw the
train disappear in the distance.
It was full hour and half till the
next train; it was nearly half q mile
back to Mr.. Smiths house. He nery.
ously paced back and forth for few
moments before the depot, debating in
his mind whether he should wait there
for the next train or go back home. As
he unused his anger grew. He would
go back home; he would give his wife
such "blowing-up" as she would re-
member for months. She should feel
that it was no light matter to have
breakfast five minutes late He turned
his face homeward and stamped heavily
along with the air of man determined
to do a desperate deed; his face was
flushed with anger and his eye cleaned
fiercely.
But as he hastened along somehow
or other his absorbed attention was di-
verted by the song of bird in the trees
that lined his path. He looked up in
voluntarily. How brightly the sun was
shining! The trees were putting forth
their tenderest green; so was the grass.
He noticed the fragrance Of the apple
and plum blossoms; he distinguished
the peculiar strain of bird he used to
hear in boyhood. He had listened to
that bird when he had walked in the
meadows with the pretty, shy young
maiden whom his heart was bent on
winning for his wife. She was his wife
now. She was the mother of
three rosy, active children; they
were his and hers. She was
not so pretty as she once was. She
was thin and careworn. The plump
rosiness and merry smile were for the
most part gone. But what a good,
true wife she had been to him! And
on this bright, sunshiny. beautiful morn
ing he had been meditating the sharp
words he could say to her, and all for q
trivial little loss of an hour from busi-
ness. Mr.. Smiths pace slackened; his
countenance relaxed, his heart melted.
On such morning he could not, would
not mar the harmony and beauty of
the sunshine and birds and the green
things growing. No; if he could not
speak kindly words he would hold his
peace.
AS Mr.. Smith neared his house he
felt certain shrinking from meeting
his wife directly. He almost felt that
he might betray on his countenance
some of the harsh thoughts he had been
thinking. So he went around the side
of the house and entered a kitchen door.
Bridget was standing with perp1exed
and distressed air over the open stove
In which smouldered dark, dying fire.
''What is the matter, Bridget?'
"Faith, sur, and it's the stove that
breaks me heart entirely. The CRATE
IS broken and the stove-pipe smokes,
and whin | sthrive to make q quick fire,
here's the way it serves me-"
'sWell, Bridget, believe that's all
my fault. Your mistress has asked me
many times to bring a new CRATE from
the city and also to have a man come
and clean out the stove-pipe and chinl-
ney. I will put this down in my note
book and bring the new CRATE this even
ing, and Pat McFlinn shall come this
very day and fix the pipe"
"Oh, thank you, sur said Bridget,
with q Frightening countenance, land
could you have the cisthern fixed to !?
The pump has been broken along tonne
and it takes so much of me tonne and
keeps back the work SO to be dhraw-
ing water widsa rope"
Again Mr.. Smiths conscience smote
him. How often had his wife asked
him to have the cistern fixed.
eyes. Bridget, will have the cistern
fixed also this very day."
We'll, sur, thin think I'll stay. 7
was just tellin' the misthress that I
wouldn't work any longer with such In
conveniences, but if the stove and els
thern are fixed poor girl can get
along"
Mr.. Smith made another memoran-
dunn in his note book and passed on
through the dining-room towards his
wife's room. He noticed that her plate
indicated an untasted breakfast. Softly
he opened the door of their room. His
wife started up hastily with an express
oiou Vi alaEneu Inquiry. her eyes were
wet with tears. The baby, still in his
ni9ht-clothes, was fretting in the cradle,
while little 2-year-old, partly dressed,
tugged at her skirts.
"And so you missed the train
breakfast was late, well, I can't help
it-Bridgetis going to leave, too," and
the poor little woman covered her face
with her hands and burst into sobs and
tears. She fully expected angry COM
plants from her husband, and in some
vague way she felt that she was to
blame. She could not compass every
thing, and the babies were SO trouble