The Kenosha telegraph. [volume] (Kenosha, Wis.) 1860-1888, 1885-07-10
"Nay, there's nothing as could keep


and my sight is ailing, and I'm no that
quick | was on my feet; but it's all in
the way of Nature, he says. Them as
sows in the spring shall reap in tho
fall, and I'm to reap now, whilst he's
to work at the sowing. A deal of trouble
I've had in my day, but no finger
touch will he let anear me in my old
age he says. Eth, but he's a good lad.
May Heaven grant ye a son like him,
Miss Annie, when ye'ye stepped down
out of the spring-time yerself ]"
Eyes, Jem's very good" assented
Annie, carelessly. 'Father says there
is not place anywhere around so well
kept as he keeps ours. Oh! bark! Isn't
that the train?"
She sprang to her feet, throwing
back her head and listening eagerly,
with bated breath, raising an imperious
little hand to silence all other sounds
1t seemed as if, at this spoiled darling's
bidding, the very birds stopped singing.
and the leaves forbore their rustling, all
was suddenly so still Nurse Edwards
listened, too, but less intently, and the
chirping of the cricket beneath the
piazza ledge was the only sound she
caught
"Hey, what a noise he makes?'' she
said, admiringly, as Annie turned back
with gesture of disappointment. ''If
it's them as is happiest sings loudest,
yon fellow has the best of us all"
"Oh! will it meUer be five o'clock?'
cried Annie, mindful only of her inn
patience. This day has been hun
dred days long already"
Time, my DEAR said the old woman,
reprovingly. '.Ye'll not hurry it,
though We fret it never SO. We must
just bide the time, my Jem says, and
all things'll come in turn--frst life,
then growth, then death. Things is
best taken natural as they come The
rose that ye force'H only be sooner done
blowing"
'But / can't watt" the girl com
plained, childishly. II always want
things Immediately, and | want five
o'clock this minute. What time can it
be, Nursie? Oh! do say its five
o'clock!''
It'll be nigh upon it, sure, by the
slant of the shadows" the old woman
answered, peering out across the lawn.
Eye can look at the sun-dial yonder, if
we will. I"
"Nonsense!'' rejoined Annie, con-
temptuously. Gas if a stupid bit of
wood and rusty shadow kept any
count of the time the train goes by.
I'll look at the clock inside. "
'Then We may spare yerself the
trouble, my dearie; for the hands
stopped at five minutes to seven this
morning. exactly as my Jem started out
for the city; and five minutes to seven
it'll be till my Jem gets home, which
may be the night or the morrow. And
I've been a-thinking all tse day as I sat
here how it's with me and with every
thing about me just as it is with the
old clock inside. It's him that keeps
us going; and we're all run down and
stopped together when he's gone, biding
the time till he comes back to right us. .
"Then l wish he could come back
now and make it five O'clock" sighed
Annie. Surely it must be five o'clock,
and the train has come in without my
hearing the whistle. I'll run down to
the gate and wait there. Fred can't be
long now. Goodbye, Nursie. In i've
minutes more l shall be the very hap
piest girl in all the world''
And before she had finished speaking
she was off, disdaining the road and
making herself painless way across
the lawn; laughing, dancing, bounding
along with many light spring and
airy leap and merry twist, like mount
ain brook too impeslous to run smooth
ly. The old nurse smiled indulgentlv,
and, settling herself back in her chair,
went contentedly on with her knitting,
while the cricket again became the up
permost sound in her world, like a
homely accompaniment to the single
music of her thoughts.
Many more minutes than five went by
uncounted, when, suddenly, from the
direction of the gateway Annie again
came running, but not as she had run
before. Very direct and straight she
came. Her arms were outstretched as
one who runs blindly; her face, that had
been so rosy, was white as death and
strangely set, and she flung herself
into the old woman's arms with q
great, sharp cry.
80, Nurse! 0, Nurse! The train is
not in. There has been an accident. A
man going by told me. And there has
been one killed. Just light accident!
But there was one killed. Only one
killed, the man said. 0, Nurse! it is
Fred. l know it is Fred AS certainly
as that am alive now, know that it
is my darling who is deadr'
And the girl burst into a passion of
stormy weeping, and would neither be
comforted, nor listen to anything that
her old friend said.
Il tell you knoO it is he!' she
cried, with an agony of conviction in
her voice that almost carried certainty
with it. 'It was like knife through
my heart the moment the man spoke.
At the word accident, felt that Fred
was dead, even before he said anything
more. Itell you [ knoW that it is he;
as surely as if | saw him lying here be-
fore my eyes!''
NAY, nay, my pet, my darling, my
hearts dearie!" cried the old nurse.
clasping the girl to her breast and rock
ing back and forth with her as if she
were babe, so quickly does grief make
children of us all. "How can We knowP
Why borrow so sore a trouble as this?
Wait till the good Lord brings it to We
Himself, and eases the weight of it by
lending His own blessed hand to the
burden. What should start We before
hand to fear itP"
"Oh! don't you seeP" Annie mo aned.
"Don't you see? 1t is because l am so
happy that / dread it. l am too hap
Ply. / have never had sorrow in all
my life. Not one. l have everything
want / haven't wish left to wish.
My life is as bright as the year is long.
And the happiness has got to stop
sometime. Aren't we always being