Wood County reporter. [volume] (Grand Rapids [i.e. Wisconsin Rapids], Wis.) 1857-1923, 1884-02-21
A STRANGE COINCIDENCE.

Its amazin' what few flowers will
do, said old Philo Barton, as he sat
smoking his pipe under the morning
glory vines at the back door. MY
cabins the best lookin' on the whole
mountain-and yet the logs nor the I'M
derpinnin' nor yet the windows ain t
no different from the rest. But it.
them marigolds, and fOur-O' clocks, and
blue double asters that does the bus
mess"
Its because you've got a woman
about the place, " said Tom Phillips en-
yiously.
Il reckonr' was Philo's reply, as he
crowded the coarse shay tobacco down
into his pipe with the ball of his
thumb.
Aud old Philo sat smoking at his
front door, and basked in the sun like
a larger growth of lizard
Philo Barton had come, like many
another one, 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 q
broken-down man, glad to earn little
money here and there, when his rheu-
matte back would allow him to make
the effort.
There was something still left in the
bank at Salt Lake City, but Philo re-
tanned too much of his New England
up-bringing to trench upon that little
fund.
i may need it more than / do now, :"
he reasoned. 1--WE amt suffering
now-me and 10. It's pretty tight cal
culating now and then, but we don't go
hungry nor cold.
Guess we won draw out that hun
bred dollars till we need it! But it's
queer the way luck runs.
Il laid out my all in this 'ere tract of
land, because | reckOned it was the
RIGHT spot But it wasn't.
'.Ef I'd bought fifty rods to the left,
I'd a-struck that there Blue Beauty
mine, rs David Dorsey is a-shoYellin'
his fortune out of. But [ didn't [
don't know why.
There amt no accountin's for luck!
Dave Dorsey's CROWN rich, and I'm
CROWN poor. | wouldn't care for my
self, but it's hard on 10!
''Shes out under the grapevine,
washing now Washing's pre1s, tough
always kept hired gal when Mrs.
Barton was alive. But things. is differ
ent row. [ don't know why"
For in his dim way, old Philo recog-
nized the mystery of daily life.
In this world some people try to
dght against fate Philo Barton was
wise enough to accept his destiny as it
came.
In the meantime, his daughter
Jocelind she had been christened, but
everyone called her ''Jo"-stoou sing
inc under the shadow of the grape
vines, where the green clusters were
Just turning to amethyst.
Her sleeves were rolled up, the wind
blew her short fantastic curls to and
fro, and an apron of striped red-and-
white bed-ticking engulfed her slender
form.
She was rosy and sun-burned, with
bic black eyes, and she was rubbing
away at old Philo's blue-checked shirts
with muscle which many an athlete
might have envied.
And why should not $40" have mus
Gle?
tang pony herself, she drove the COWS
home at night-she settled any differ
ence of opinion with the bull with a
ssick that resounded over his horny
pate like the blows of blacksmith;
she split the wood, in order to save her
fathers weak back, and dug the pota-
toes and brought in the vegetables, and
then, when she had time, she trimmed
the branchy marigolds, and watered
the shy-blooming pink and purple asst
ers, and sat at her stock lng-darning
looking down into the empurpled
shadows of the valley below, where the
pinnacIes of Salt Lake City and the
huge egg-shaped dome of the Great
Tabernacle of Zion" rose up like the
uncertain mists of a dream.
That, with trifing variations, consti-
tuted the daily life of $40"
She grew up like a wild flower in the
wilderness.
Even the rough miners suppressed
their oaths and became gentler when
she passed by.
''She has tough time, 10 has," old
Barton said slowly, shaking his head
.sbut she don't mind it, 10 don't! She
loves her old father, 10 does"
As for washing, what did 10 care fol
that? She had washed ever since she
was fourteen years old, and had caught
Mossie, the Indian squaw, stealing
checked OBSERVATION-DISCLOSURES out o
the tub.
You're not doing right, " she said tt
cd Mossie ''See how streaky thC
clothes arel You don't rub 'em enough
And see!' jerking the handkerchief.
out of the old hays tattered pocket