The Warner weekly sun. (Warner, Brown Co., Dakota [S.D.]) 1883-1885, 1884-01-18
THE LITTLE SAMARITAN.

Miss Mary Jane Ham stood in front O
4 the imposing brick building used as the
high school OF Rifetown, with an un.
i opened letteI just handed her by tbs
\ %usssiDg carrier, in her hand. Miss Mary
Jane had her little peculiarities, bel
faults and her fQibles, her ini1es and hei
dislikes, as what woman has not or mar
either, for that matter? but Miss Mary
James own browning dislike, which
4 embittered her whole soul, as much as
it was impossible to embilter 80 sweet
and sunny q soul, was her hatred
for her name. The man of Ham
s could not be helped; it was the paternal
patronymic; it belonged to the ~unfortu-
nate son of Noah; but why should her
mother a~ggravate the matter by adding
\ the pIebeian Mary Jane? There were
4 hundreds of feminine appellatives that
were quite as inexpensive aid that
would have added some grace to the in
eyitable Ham. Without petition
inc the general court, Mary Jane
had managed to lghtea in Q small way
her grievance. Her friends called her
Jennie. She signed her name in fault
less c~hirography, as beams q Massa-
chusetts school ma'am, M. Jenaie Ham;
and she had faith that, in the near flu
ture some faultless young man wouli
endow her with q name far more
durable than the one her father had left
har and which was all she had ever re-
ceived from him. 1t was, therefore,
with q sort of shudder that she read the
. supersciiption, which ran, in bold busi-
ness like letters, across the envelope:
nMiss Mary J. Ham, Rifletown, Mass"
The post mark for INC not blotted over,
was Chicago; the writer who? NJ. Jennie
had no acquaintance in that famous
+ western city. anu only pY mint or neru
thinking did it occur to her that her
mothers eldest brother, John Rivers
lived there; hut he was reputed to be Of
/ IMMENSE wealth, and very likely he had
never heard of her existence. She tore
open the envelo) e and read:
"My dean niece: / expect the reception
Of this letter will cause you some surprise,
and the reading OF it more. | am your mo-
theirs eldest brother. When / first came TO
Chicago l used TO correspond with your
mother; but, as the years slipped away,
somehow our letters grew more and more
inirequent and finally ceased entirely.
Then your dear mother died, and in the
heat of money getting | lost all traces of
my Eastern relatives. Litterly, | must con
fess from selfish motives, l have been look
ing them up. am getting old. My wife
Is deas. / have mo- child. / need q home.
You must know that business men frequent
ly suffer great reverses. / have written TO
each of my nephews and nieces much as ]
have written toyou. My letters have most
ly remained u~nanswered; or, if answered,
furnished bat Il cold comtort. Will you
take pity on al old man? Iawait your an.
swer with Intense interest,
Your uncle,
JoHE RIVERS
M. Jennie slowly folded the letter,
mechanically replaced tin the envelope,
and. with a preoccupie 4 air. turned her
steps toward her home. Size had been
left All orphan at an early age, without a
relative to claim her, and had won her
way only by indefatigable industry and
grit. First, as a sewing girl, going from
house to house, she had saved money
enough to ft herself for teaching; she
had toiled night and day. and within
the past twelve months she had obtained
q situation in the Rifietown high school,
at 4 salary Of 800 per annum. She liked
dainty things; books and pictures, soft,
Yielding carpets, and pretty furniture.
She had a woman's iongings for delicate
iaces anu kne linens and cri-py silks and
soft cashmeres, and, recently, in q very
small way, she had commenced to revel
IN tnelr possession. She had even, 0ur
ing her coming vacation, contemplated O
visit to the White HILL and over maps
and IN he anleet pages of Starr King,
IN; Imagination had fioated over the
bright waters Of the Winnipiseogee and
drank In the beauties of the Pemigewas-
set, the Saeo and the Androscoggin val
ieys; and here, in the face of
these long cherished anlicipations,
was a letter asking charity.
M, Jennie had a tender heart. Her
struggles with poverty had left no cal
,iouses on 1t. Her mind went reluctant
~ back TO those old, unpleasant days
and then reverted to Uncle John. He
nad been wealthy and now Ie had no
nome; he was old, his wis was dead,
ne was her dead mothers brother, and
ne needed some one to care for him.
An well. Her lite, so far, had been
sone long repression; why not let it COM
unue so to the end? And after all, is
mere not sometimes as much pleasure
~ the denial rs we'll as in the gratifca-
Ton Of wish?
Long before she reached her home
sennie had come to y decision. The
uLtle brown cottage must accommodate
one more. With a TREND OF her sewing
uays she had rented a Little cottage on y
pack street, anu thus satisfied the IN
tense ionRings Of her heart Tor home.
tier arrangements were soon c0mpie-
tou, and tlae next day the niaii carried
An answer 70 Uncle John. II, too
sne wrote, "hays known what Il 10 70