The Pickens sentinel. [volume] (Pickens, S.C.) 1871-1903, 1885-11-05

He moved his chair unoasily and
emitted a thread of blue, spicy smoke
from his lips very much as il ho were
not enjoying it particularly.
II suppose they arc ut Bilberry farm
by this time," said he to himself. "I
suppose the younkers arc in bed and
Jenny is sitting out on tho piazza, list
ening TO the whippoorwills. I've almost
mind to go out there tomorrow even-
ing, and take somo peaches and ba-
nanas and things. 1t would be q pleas
ant surprise for Jenny, and-hellol
What's thatl A ring at tho bellp"
Flinging his cigar into tho unused
grate, John Smith shuflled along to
the door in his slippers
"Oh-a telegram! Now. l wonder
who should telegraph to mcr'
"Well," said the shivering and rain
better open it and see. anyway, pyo
no call to hang around hero no long
cr!' -
And off ho went. whilo Mr.. Smith
carried his buff envelope back to tho
parlor light and somewhat nervously
tore it open.
Railroad accident. Your vito is killed and
your child dangerously hurt Come by the
next train. JARED MEREDITH NJ. ID.
Again and again Mr.. Smiths be-
wildered Dyes roved over the contents
of this appalling missivc bcfore he
could fully comprehend its deadly
meaning.
Dead! Killod'' he muttorod to him
accident!'
And then, catching railway guide
IN ha ~
its leaves with trembling hand. The
next train did not leave tho terminus
undor an hour and half! To him the
time seemed almost like eternity. How
could he endure this awful agony of
soul for an hour and halfp
perhaps they are Incorrect" he
of cold sweat from his brow. "People
can't always judge exactly in such a
moment of dismay.' Perhaps she is
only badly hurt, and can nurse her
| through it after all. My Jenny! my
| loving. patient, swoot-eyed wifew A
| strong sob rose up in his throat as if it
would stranglo him. mo, no, she is
killed!' he gasped, as his oyo foil onco
more on the telegram. dead! and 1
never can speak to her again or tell
her what y cruel, exacting brute have
beon! God knows l didn't mean it,
| and now it's too late to mako any
amends. Why didn't tho children go
tooP How can bring them up with
out Jennyp"
His head dropped low on his uuivcr-
ing hands; low, spasmodic groan
burst from his pale lips. An hour
and half before he could 60 to Jenny;
half an hour then, before he could
look upon her dead face; for Cowdrey
was an insignificant way station some
eight or ten miles up tho road.
"lf :! could only 1.-Two my lifo over
again!' ho cried aloud to the bare
walls, while tight in his arms he clasp
ed Jenny's little work-basket, with its
strips of unfinished hemming-all that
was left to him of the fair, departed
presence. IF 1 could only speak TO
her just once, and ask her forgiveness
for thousand things. But, not is
too late-too late. And"
He stopped abruptly. Tho sound of
the reiterated jerk of the bell-wire
reused him onco moro into reluctant
action.
John! dear John!''
Jenny, my wife!'
He stood, pale and stupefied, staring
at her as if she were actually ghost
returned from the regions of space and
unreality.
''Ihere has been q terrible railroad
accident!" said Jenny, her voice falter-
ing, as she laid the baby on q sofa and
took little Johnny lovingly on her lap
ia few miles beyond Cowdrey. Three
or four people were killed, but. thank
God, we escaped unhurt. Of course. |
| took the first train back that l could,
for knew you would hoar of it and be
uneasy. And only to think, dear,
there was poor mother killed., with
her little babe in her arms, and her
name was the same as mine-.Mrs.
John Smith,
He pointed ono trembling finger to
the telegram, which lay open on the
table. Mrs. Smith road it with dilated
eyes and pale face.
"Oh! my love, what q fright YOU
have had!' she exclaimed. "And only
to reflect, it might have been me!'
"But it Is not Oh! thank heavon.
my own darling wife, it is mott" gasp
ed the husband, holding his recovered
treasure close to his heart. "And I
nave yet time to live my lifo over
again!'
And from that hour John Smith was
a changed man. To Jenny It seemed
almost like millennium, but Mrs. Geor-
giana Irotter turned up her nose and
| said:
John Smith must be in his dotaee.
spending all his time and money in
carriages to the park, extra help, and
hne clothes for that pale-faced wife of
MS: John smith always was foolg'
-~New YORK. Daily NeWs.
Leg Before Wicket,