McCook weekly tribune. (McCook, Neb.) 188?-1886, 1884-10-16

$50 am l, laughed my wife, "but |
don't believe"
sprang out, picketed my horse to
tall birch sapling and gave my arm os-
tentatiously to my bright-eyed compan-
ion.
..At all events" / said, ''we'll 60 and
see."
Across the cool aisles of the midsum-
mer woods-through dense underbrush
and thickets of wild roses, that show
cred their pink petals round our feet as
we walked-over clear stream, by the
aid of fallen log, we made our way,
until Florence's doubts were solved by
the actual appearance of little one
story cottage or cabin of implanted
wood, in stump-dotted clearing,
where melancholy pig, roofing under
the porch foundation, and patch OF
acknowledging stunted cabbages in the
background, denoted something like
civilization.
"Oh, Fernandez whispered my wife,
as we saw course-looking shock-head-
ed man, smoking a short black pipe in
the porch, with his elbows on his knees
and greasy newspaper before him,
while two or three sun-burned elves in
faded clothing played around his feet.
''Let us 60 back! This is such horrid
placer
II dare-say we can buy draught of
milk or even raw cabbage here, l re-
assured her. ''Why, Florence, child
you wouldn't make much of a soldier!''
The man looked up us we approached
and we explained the dilemma in which
we found ourselves.
.Oh. of cOurse-of course" he said,
with CLEAN of courtesy which showed
he had not always passed his life in
these dreary wilderness. "Sit down.
Jamie, call your mother. l believe my
wife's somewhere round at the back of
the house, splitting kindlings."
Florence opened wide her soft brown
eyes at this speech.
..You are an invalid?"
IAN invalid" with hearty laugh,
which plainly indicated the sound con-
dition of his lungs at least. "Not much
of the invalid about me, guess?"
Then why don't you split the kind
lings for herr" asked frank Florence.
He arched his eyebrows with lazy
ScOrn.
Il don't believe in this business of
Woman's Rights and Female Suffrage"
he answered, slowly putting at the
black pipe I'm for keeping women
down where they belong. If my wife
isn't hard at work she'll be whining
and complaining about the days when
we were better off. I'm not the man
to humor woman s whims. st. Paul's
better than any of your modern apos-
ties, and he believed in keeping women
at work.
Florence was about Indignantly to
combat this position when a little bare
legged urchin came tumbling round
the corner of the house.
Mother amt splittin' kindlings-
she's gone to the spring for water! l
hollered to her to come quick, Poppy
wanted her!'
That's right, sonny" said our host
complacently.
Almost in the same minute bowed
down, weary-looking woman emerged
from the wall of woods below the
house, carrying a trimming pail of
water in either hand-a faded, bonnet
less woman, whose yellow, lustreless
hair was twisted into a tight knot at the
back of her head and whose brow was
already scanned with wrinkles, though
she had scarcely reached middle age.
Yet there was an impalpable something
in the wan face that strained my mem
DRY strangely.
.sKate Dallas!" l involuntarily ex-
claimed.
She stopped and set down her pals,
coloring scarlet; saw that our recog-
milton was mutual.
''Let me carry them l said, advanc-
ing.
"Needn't trouble yourselfn' said the
master of the house. .'She is used to
it; aren't you Kitty? So you know my
wife, eh sir?''
[ introduced myself and Florence;
and learned, in my turn, that my ''first
love- was married to Mr. Sykes, who
had failed in business three times in
New York and its neighboring cities,
and taken to farming" by way of final
settlement in life.
''You see that we are very poor"
began Kate, nervously, ''and-"
Nothing to be ashamed of in that, :"
broke in her husband as she was stop
ped by fit of coughing, the conse-
quence of black pipe which Mr.. Sykes
had relighted and was putting vigor-
ously into her face.
"You don't object to smoke nova
days, Katie" said, a little mischiev-
ously. But Twas sorry a moment after
ward, when saw the scarlet mounted
into her cheek.
We remained only long enough to
partake of slight repast of crackers
and milk, and Katie turned away her
head as Mr.. Sykes pocketed the bank
bill l handed him, with gruff:
''All's fish that comes to my nett"
Poor Kathie! knew how mortified
she was. but did not wish to witness
her discontinue.
And 1 have not seen my first love
since.
Blue Grass Breeders.
NJ. Uy;&l,or, &c Stool