The Kenosha telegraph. [volume] (Kenosha, Wis.) 1860-1888, 1884-02-29


''About a month alter this went to
sea, and as we was wrecked on the voy-
age home, was gone about two years
all told. heerd pretty regeler from
Mirandy at fust, but all ter once the let
tiers stopped, though continued to
write Jest the same, fer didn't SO much
wonder at the letters not gettin' to me,
seen we'd been wrecked, as we had.
At last we got into port, and when
brother Josiah and l got in the house
they was all glad enuff to see us, though
noticed mother looked at me, every
once in awhile, very mournful, Dinner
bein' over, got slicked up ready to go
to Mirandy's, fer was mighty anxious
ter see her, as We may think. come
down stairs hummin' and feelin' very
cheerful. Where yer goin', BenP' says
mother. TO see Mirandy, of course,
says /, surprised at mothers askin' me
SIGH question, My poor boy says she.
'Mirand's' 'DeadP says |. No.
married-last month, to Jim Fowler,
says mother.
"If mother had shot me, couldn't
felt wuss. / sot right down in the
highest cheer, the hull room seemed a
spinnin' round like top. Mother
says I, it's all over with me-. Don't
say that, Ben, or you will kill me-
mother says. Although they all tried
to persuade me different, / wouldn't
heer to 'em, but that very day engaged
to 90 in week on three-years' cruise
to Injia and Chiny. Instid Of bein' gone
three was away five years. Mother
never said much in her letters about
Mirandy, except that she'd had little
'un, and latterly seemed to be pinin'
and that Jim often asked fur me, when
was comm home agin', This made
me SO Uneasy that give up the place in
Chiny, in tea house, a good one it was
too, and come here. | didn't let the
folks know exactly when to expect me,
so they was all surprised when / arrived.
Walkin' up, very still, to the house, I
see mother settin' readin' in the big hall
door; her hair was turned as white
as snow, and she had on a black
gownd. SEEM father had jest died.
When she looked up and see me standin't
afore her, she fetched scream, and
then we Rugged each other purity tight,
she cryin' fur JOY at havin me back safe
and sound. Then brother John and his
wife Maria and the children came in, all
so glad to see me once more. After we'd
talked spell, Maria says: This note
come fur you last night, Jim Fowler's
work-boy brought it; he seemed dretful
anxious, the boy said, to know if you
was expected soon. -
Here Uncle Ben paused, and taking
from the pocket before mentioned an
envelope, he drew from it a note yellow
with age, written in delicate feminine
hand, and reading as follows:-
Dear Ben-Will you come at once to your
dying Miranda.
p. S.-James consents to this"
"When I'd read this letter." contin-
ued Uncle Ben. if you'll believe me,
felt all the old feelin's I used to have for
Mirandy, although she'd married Jim,
instead of me, SO I went right over to
the house. Jim seemed real glad to see
me, but awfully down in the mouth,
which didn't wonder at when / come
to see Nirandy lynn on the bed, so
pale and thin-her eyes shet, her white
hands folded together on the quilt. her
yellow hair like gold foatin' around
her on the piller.
"'Speak to her, Ben,' says Jim.
'Mirandy,' says 1, it's Ben My
speakin' seemed to rouse her right up.
As soon as she see me, her eyes lit up,
jest as they used to did, and she put
both her white, thin arms around my
neck, and drew me down and kissed me,
notwithstanding Jim was standin' by,
and she says: 1T was real good of you
to come, Ben
''Then she told Jim to fix up the pill
lers, so she could set up a little, and
made Jim set on one side of the bed,
and me on the tother; and after she'd
got rested (she was so weak that movin'
seemed to take all her strength), she
saws: You and | have been wronged,
Ben, but 'twasn't my fault, or Jim's.
However, / wanted to see you, and right
it as far as it ever can be in this world,
Ben; so 1 told jim to try and find yer,
for my sake. When father lay dyin'
he called me to him, and says he:
s'Mirandy, l amt done the fair thing by
you and Ben; he did write, and [ kept
back the letters; yell find 'em in my tin
chest along with the will. / didn't mean
no harm; | thought Jim had more
money than Ben and 'ud make yer
better husband. But twas all wrong,
give me, Mirandyp" / tried to furgive
him, SEEM he was dyin', and 1 was
married to Jim. After he was dead 1
found the letters where he said, and that
you was the same lovin' Ben as ever.
Here they be, she says, takin 'em from
under the piller.
There they was, sure enuff, and
took EN-, and Mirandy says You can
keep 'em, or not. But 1 want goin'
to keep what had been so troublesome,
so throwed 'em all into the fire that
was burnin' on the hurth. After they
was burned up, Mirandy took my hand
and put it into Jim's, and then Aunt
Ruth brought the little 'un, and Mirandy
says; Ben and jim, alters be good
friends when I'm gone. Take care OF
the little 'un between yer. He's got
both yer Names (she'd called him
James Benjamin. land / hope he'll
neveTdisgrace 'em. Ye'llpromise, won't
yep'
1--WE was to full too speak and only
nodded. This seemed to satisfy her.
Then they luke away the baby, and she
lay quiet, with her eyes shet, for long
time. AT last she says: Sing, won't
We, '"Ihere if land of pure delight''?'
Now Jim was purity good at the tenor,
and could manage the bass, SO we be-
gun to sing, although twas a purity
hard matter, SEEM our hearts was in
our throats most of the time. While
we was singin', boys, Mirandy opened
her eyes, smilin', oh, SO beautiful, gave
a little sigh and was gone.
"What happened next, or how the
funeral went of, i never could tell exact
Iy. Folks said to me afterwards that
everybody, almost, was a-cryin'. SEEM
us two young fellers in the first carriage,
with the little I'm, KNOWN how much
we'd both sot by Mirandy.
''A'ter Mirandy's de ath, although Jim
and me was alters good friends, he
never seemed the same, specially as we
soon laid the little 'un to rest by the side
of his mother. One day when Jim and
was a standin' by their graves, Jim
,s,.iA 4.