The spirit of democracy. [volume] (Woodsfield, Ohio) 1844-1994, 1884-03-11

The Lord Himself, Jehovah. thinkest upon
~ mo-" - s5as.
A STRANGE COINCIDENCE.
"I's amazin' what few flowers will
do," said old Pnilo Barton as he ca,
smoking his pipe under the morning
glory vines at the back door. "My cab.
ms the best lookin''on the whole noun
tain-and yet the logs norstbe under.
plnnin' nor yet the windows amt no dif.
ferent IRON the rest Butts them mari
Colds, and four.o' clocks, and those blue
double asters that does the business"
"ft's because you've got a woman
about the place" ".said TJm Phillips en-
viously. tH 9s9V - n1iissai
~ reckon p, was Philo's reply as he
crowded his coarse shsg tobacco down
iLto his pipe with the ball OF his thumb.
And old Philo sat smoking at his
front door and basked i'd the sun like a
larger growth OF lisard. sissq ss7di ass
Philo Barton had come; like many ar
other to the Silver Land, to make his
fortune ten years ago But like many
another one his life had proved failure.
and at sixty he was a broken down man,
glad to earn little money here aud
there, when his rheumatic back would
allow him to make the effort q
There was something still left Id the
bank at Salt Lake City, bnt Philo retain-
ed too much Of bis New England up
bringing to touch upon that little fund
81 may need it more than do now"
he reasoned. "We amt suffering now
me and 10. It's pretty tight caIcula-
ting now aud then, but we don't 60 hun.
cry nor cold" saa
"Guess We wort draw out that hum
dred dollars till we need il But It's
qaeer the way luck runs" a
~ laid out my all in this 'ere tract OF
land because reckoned it was the right
spot But II wasn't, 7d giio
"EfnPd bought City rods to the left
ia struck that there .Blue Beauty
mine, as David Dorsey is a.shovelin' bis
fortune out Of. But dida't. Idou't
know why. s'si sa69 a9ns gea Fe
7"Tberer ain't no accountin' for luck
Dave Dorses's grown and Pm
CROWN poor 1rwouldnt care for my
self, but it's hard on 10.
"She's out under the grapevine, wash.
Ing now. Washiug's pretty hard work
for a slim cree.ur like 10. We always
kept hired gal when Mrs. Barton was
alive. But things is different now; 1
don't know why.' sas e -
For in his dim way old Philo fecog-
nia I'd the mystery Of daily life. apar 4
In this world some people try to fight
against fate.as Fnilo Barton was wise
enough to accepl his destiny as II came.
In the meantime hts daughterAJoee-
lind she had been chfistened, but every
one called her. Joi-sstood singing under
the shade " of. the grapeviEes whete the
green clusters we're just turning to ame57
thyst.
Her sleeves were rolled up, the wind
blew her short fantastic curls to and fro,
and an apron of striped red and white
hed-ticking engulfed her slender form.
She was rosy and SUD. buried, with
6ig black aves. and she was rubbing
away at old hnilo's blue.cheeked shirts,
With q muscle which many an athlete
might have ensied,
And Why should not 40" have mus
Gle sS fsfs, fitt sr faa a -
. She gsoomed the shaggy little mustang
pony herself, SHE drove the cows home
ut nigha-she settled any difference OF
opinion with the bull With stick that
,fssounded over bis horny pate like the
blows Of blacksmith !, she split the
woud, in order to save her fathers weak
back, and dug the potstoes and brought
in the vegetables, and then, when she
bad time. she trimmed the. branchy ma
rigolds. .sand watered the shy blooming
pink and purple asters, and sat at her
stocking darning looking down into the
empnrpled shadows OF the valley below,
where tue pinnaclss of Salt Lake City
ana tue nuge egg'snaDed' uome OF tue
Great Tabernacle OF Zion rose up like
the uncertain mists of dream.
That, with trinng variations, consti.
tuted the daily life of 10. a 81
She grew up like wild f,wer in the
wilderness. sE
Even She rough miners suppressed
their oaths and became geutler when shs
passed by. sh $50
.'She has tough time. 10 Has, cli
Barton ssid slow,y. shaking his hssd
| sbut she don't mind it, Jo don't! Sh'
loves her old father, Jo does!'
As Tor washing, what did Jo care 70
shat2 She hal washed ever since sh,
was fourteen years old, and had caugh
Mossie, the Indian squaw, stealth,
checked pocket handkerchief out Of th
\ tub saa' Coco e4A
4 You're not doing right, she sail t.
d old Moasie- tSee how streaky the clothe
i areY You don'stub 'em enough. An