The Manitowoc pilot. [volume] (Manitowoc, Wis.) 1859-1932, 1886-01-14
MAKING PICKLES.


your family"
We'll. father" replied a bright little
woman OF twenty-five years, I've not
the least idea Of starving. nor Of letting
my family starve-nOt if God spares my
| health"
You were ALWAYS brave child, Love,
| but this is q terrible crisis. 1t would be
cruel in any one to taunt You now. but
remember that / told you and George it
was very imprudent for man to marry
| till he had got something ahead in case
| of an emergency"
| Il remember. father. that yOu thought
| | should be wiser 10 marry man with
| a house and store, for whom | did not
| care. than to marry George, with four
| hundred pounds year. But if ! had
| the choice to make over again to-day, l
should do just as did then. wouldn't
change places with any woman on earth
| even now.
You are faithful wife and a brave
little woman, Love, but
'But what, father?"
You can't live on in this way. child. :"
But I will live, father. and live well,
too, and take care of George and the
| babies
How"
All, that was the word that had been
ringing in the heart of this brave little
woman ever since her husband failed at
his desk, and was brought home appar-
emily dying. She knew she could rear
the pillars of her domestic structure her
self but how?
"Well, Love, | will do what | can for
YOU" said the old gentleman. 'and-
and-if it were only for you and the ba-
bies, | should say at once, come home
and be as welcome there rs you were
four years ago; but, you know, the
| house is so small we have not room fog
four in it.
Love smiled sad smile, and then
said, perhaps a little proyokingly-
-Four of us would occupy no more
| chambers than three; the babies are too
little to sleep away from us at night.
But if your house were twice as large,
! father, | could not take my husband s
! own little home away from him now
that he is sick | shall have to decide
soon and will let you know my plans. -"
The respectable old gentleman rose
up. and with his handkerchief polished
his already shining beaver, kissed Love,
|
patted the heads of the babies, and
turned to 90, saying
Keep up your good heart, child, and
remember that the ravens fed Elijah.
| "Well, | don't want them to feed me;
! prefer to feed myself" replied the
spunky little woman, who felt that it
was rather hard in her father to dis
courage her, and then eXhort her to keep
mp a good heart.
She loved the old man, although he
was still and narrow in his views, and
never forgot a slight offered his iudg-
ment She followed him to the door, and
/ said
Goodbye, father; give my love TO
mother" although her real mother, who
would have found room enough in her
heart and home for them all, had been
for years in the grave.
It was twilight, and as the old gentle
man was going down the steps, a young
! man came up.
''Ah. good-evcning, good-eveninG.
| said the stout, goOd-natured hotei-Aeep-
er to both. and then added to Love,
'.here | am on the old borrowing busi-
ness Ny wife says she can't please the
lawyers III cOltii Iiiiit SlliCt you ttltNt sic
| changed pickles and honey. Old Squire
| Watts called out the minute he sat down
TO supper, Come. Bruce, borrow some
Of that ere neighbor's pickles for us.'
| Them pickles is a standing joke among
| them. Why can't nobody in town make
pickles, and cats-up, and chow-chow
like youn? My wife's cook that can't
be beat on bread. and meats, and pastry
and cake; but she ought to prentice
! herself to you on some things, tell
| her"
| Love. who had known Bruce all her
life, smiled and said
sI'n give YOU jar with all my heart,
| Mr. Bruce. and that won't pay your
| wife for the nice things she has sent in
| to poor George. / have my cucumbers
| all ready now to make my next year S
| pickles. and | have yet two or three jars
left"
Suppose we make a bargain, Mrs.
| Burt. I'll buy two barrels of the best,
London price, if you'll make EN- for
me; and chow-chow and cats-up be-
sides
Love laughed, and the hotel keeper
went with her to get the jar.
| street, whispering with sigh
The Lord knows who is going to
feed that family; | can't do it, for wife
saws | can't; and she knows everything,
most. And poor Love is terribly obsti-
nate.
Well, the hotel keeper ran back the
next ,uoment with his pickle jar, as
happv as some men would have been &c
| find a nugcat of gold that size; for he
had rival who kept the old tavern, ,and
he wanted to keep sll the lawyers who
came there to hold col,rt as his custom
| erS.
Love had long talk with her hus,
band that night. The next dav an old
school friend, who had always been Ike
sister, came to stop with the sick mau
and look after the babies, and Love
went to the city, ten miles away, in an
| early train, with neat little basket in
! her hand.
If anyone had been near enough,
when she put her little basket upon the
| platform of the station with such spirit,
he might have heard her whisper
''See if my family starves while l am
alive and in my hca!th!'
The day was lovely. and everybody on
the cars and on the street looked cheer
tul and happy. OF course, there were
sick and lame and blind and deaf peo,
pie. but heaven was keeping them out
Of her sight that day, and bringing be-
fore her happy grown folks and merry
| little ones.
The streets looked so clean. and the
air seemed SO pure. that she charged
herself with having borne false witnes,
against the beautiful,as she walked with
light heart through the principal
streets, visiting first a store and then {
hotel.
In each place she asked for the pro,
prietor or the steward, opened her has
ket, and drew out three little glass jar.
of what the hotel keeper at home had
called ''Sour things" In one moment
she told her business. and the necessity
that brought her TO it, Her cheerful face