The Mineral argus., 1884-01-24
THE LITTLE SAMARITAN.

Miss Mary Jane Ham stood in front OF
the imposing brick building used as the
high school of Rifletown, with an u
opened letter, just handed her by the
\ passing carrier, in her hand. Miss Mary
Jane had her little peculiarities, her
faults and her foibles, her likes and her
dislikes, as what woman has not, or man
either, for that matter? but Miss Mary
James own browning dislike, which
embittered her whole soul, as much as
it was impossible t. embitter so sweet
and sunny a soul, was her hatred
for her name. The man Of Ham
could not be helped; it was the paternal
patronymic; it belonged to the uniortu-
nate son of Noah; but why should her
mother %aggravate the matter by adding
the plebeian Mary Jane? There were
hundreds of feminine appellatives that
we're quite as inexpensive and that
would have added some grace to the in
evitable Ham. Without pet;tion
ing the general court, Mary Jane
had managed to tighten in a small way
her grievance. Her friends called her
Jennie. She signed her name in fault
less chirography, as became a Massa-
chusetts school ma'am, NJ. Jennie Ham;
and she had faith that, in the near flu
ture some faultless young man would
endow her with a name far more en-
durable than the one her father had left
her and which was all she had ever re-
ceived from him. 1t was, therefore,
with a sort of shudder that she read the
superscription, which ran, in bold BUSH
ness like letters, across the envelopes:
"Miss Mary j. Ham, Riletown, Mass"
The post mark for once not blotted over,
was Chicago; the writer who2 NJ. Jennie
had no acquaintance in that famous
western city. and only by dint of hard
thinking did it occur to her hat her
mothers eldest brother, John Rivers
lived there; but he was reputed to be Of
immense wealth, and very likely he had
never heard of her existence. She tore
open the envelo pc and read:
my dear niece: l expect the reception
OF this letter will cause you some surprise,
and the reading of it more. 1 am your mo-
theirs eldest brother. When / first came to
Chicago l used 10 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
hCab vi AhOACy BFbb4uH L iOsJ nv traces Oh
my Eastern relatives. Latterly, l must con-
fess from selfish motives, 1 have been look
ing them up. | am getting old. Ny wife
is dead. ] have no child / need a home,
You must know that business men frequent
ly suffer great Jeverses. l rave written to
each of my nephews and nieces much as 1
have written 90 you. My letters have most
ly remained unanswered; or, if answered,
furnished but a cold comfort. Will you
take pity on N old man? Iawait your an.
wer with intense interest,
Your uncle,
JOHN RIVERS"
M. Jennie slowly folded the letter.
mechanically replaced tin the envelope, |
and, with a preOccupie1 air, turned her
steps toward her home. She had been
left an 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 fit herself for teaching; she
had toiled night and day, and within
the past twelve months she had obtained
a situation in the Rifletown high school,
at a salary of 500 per annum. She liked
dainty things; books and pictures, soft,
yielding carpets, and pretty furniture.
She had a woman's longings for delicate
Iaces and fine linens and crispy silks and
WV kAoAL AAAlA Sog NlAA NkGLAlAI = III a. NHT 1
small wav. she rad commenced to revel
IN their possession. She a even, DUR
ing her coming vacation, contemplated a
visit to the White Hill, and over maps
and in the dulcet pages of Starr King.
In imagination had loated over tie
bright waters of the Winnipiseogee and
drank in the beauties of the Pemigewas-
set, the Saco and the Androscoggin val
teysi and here, in the face of
these long cherished anticipations,
was a letter asking charity.
M. Jennie had a tender heart. Her
struggles with poverty had left no cal
Iouses on it. Her mind went reluctant
~ pack to those old, unpleasant days
ana b reverted to Uncle John. He
nau been wealthy and now he had no
nome; he was old, his wifi. was dead.
he was her dead mothers brother, and
Xe needed some one to care for him.
Al Wen. Her life, so far, had been
t ~ long repression; why not let it con-
Ilue SO to the end2 And after all, is
&ieIe not sometimes as much pleasure
ton of a wisL2
long before she reached her home
GGetnnnle had come to u decision. The
wv DEoWn cottage must accommodate
a. more. With a friend of her sewing
10y sue mad rented Il lItle cottage on a
street., II nus satisfied the IN
f4TaSe lohglngs of her heart Tor home.
arrangements We're soon cumple-
Gu anu h next day the mail carried
81 answer to Uncle John, Il. too"
wrote, have known what it is To