The Warner sun. (Warner, Brown Co., Dakota [S.D.]) 1885-1???, 1888-08-17


river that l had used to love so in the
sunshine, all blue and silver; that /
had loved so, dimpiing IN it's SOFT grays
in rainy weather; where / had never
tired Of seeing the ice-boats dart along
when it lay white under its wintIy
mail-the river that now, in my grief
and trouble and WEAKNESS, flowed
past as calmly as if had never seen
it. How could it be so irresponsible,
rolling on bright and strong ana
steady, giving me back no sympathy
now in my sorrowful mood, Civ
ing me even no understandable
| should have hadto wade into it if |
had wanted to drown myself. Yes, |
began to hate the river. l began to
hate, too, these long, JIresome, mo-
tiOnless levels Of the grass lands-Oh,
so flat, so mOnOtOnOus, so low "One
is simply underground here" | said
to myself. zone has really not the
air to breathe. One becomes like
those slugs that live under the damp
side of a stone. am under a stone
myself. Oh, for Just q breath of air
from some point a little way up the
sky" | began to hate, | say, the
long green grass fields; and than / be-
gan to hate the farm life. ut is dull,
sOrdid, base work, let them say what
they please" said /, from the pitch
ing about OF the baTn-yard muck to
the last results of it. 1t is all non
sense about its being the one noble
occupation. So is the cooks, then,
too" And | hated the great cattle in
the yard, the smell OF the frOthing
pals Of milk, the click OF the stanch-
ions, the Cheese-making, the butter
paCking-everything that belonged to
all the dull round of the farm duties.
l went about to see the work done,
and said a word to the maids, here,
the men there; and | went and sat
down by my kindling autumn fire, and
felt that if | had to live here forever |
had better die and be done with it. |
had rather die and be done with it
anyway, If l was never to see Mark
any more; but then that was no new
feeling.
Do what I would, my thoughts
would follow Mark. Was he there
alone in his fathers house? Was he
riding gayly round the country, visit
ing other houses, other girls happier,
than |, hearing music, joiningin laugh
ter? Or was he travelling Offin distant
regions, seeing new sights and forget
ting the old, forgetting the past and
me in fresh experience? Or was ne sit
ting at home there in the long dim
room whose windows looked through
the pine-wood vista over the broad
valley and away to the blue mount
aims? No one told me; no one ever
ventured to mention his name to me
But somehow | plaCedhim there inthe
long dim room, aud there my fancy
kept following him and lowering about
him. Now he sat by the ireside there,
in :he deep chair, reading, now he was
busy with maps and pictures at the
now, in the big bay, the moon
light, that had pale green reflections in
cast up from the emerald depths of
the woods below, fell about him.
| dare say that, in reality, busy
about the place and his affairs of one
sort or another, and doing his best
&c live and to forget, he was very little
in that room; but there l chose TO
place him; and it grew strangely sweet
to me, and every moment when l
could sit down alone my fancy took
me and l sat down in that room, or
else / wandered up and down the
grea3 staircase and the hall where his
peoples portraits hung; but ] always
came back again to the hearth of the
long dim room if it were day, to the
fire-cast shadows there if it
were night, and the place grew dearer
and dearer to me every hour, and /
upbraided myself in thoughts too Bit
ter for speech for the folly and angry
temper that had shut me out of it,
that had drawn comparison between
that ancient lofty place and this low
and tiresome stretch of nothing but
grass lands, between that
manor and this plain farmhouse, al
though in real truth my farmhouse,
was quite its equal at any othertime.
But tae new year came in without q
sign from Mark or a sign from me;
and the country was white with snow,
and the river ice was str~ongenough to
bear M sledges and teams Of horses,
and the iceboats were splitting the
wind before them. 1t all made no
odds to me-. was completely wretch
ed. didn't pretend to 20 to church
or to any OF the society meetings; and
if the Sawyers and Wellses came to
me, / suppose / treated them prop
sure / don't know-but /
never set myioot outdoors the win
ter long.
There were furious storms that win
ter. The snow fell as / never remem-
Dered it before. The drifts seemed to
wall us In from all the world. "a liv-
tomb, / usedto murmer. "Iwish
it were a tomb indeed, and / in my
last sleep" At twenty, one can be so
pery miserable; and at thirty, if one
so long, one can be so profane
to laugh at it.
Sometimes Bryan and Thomas
brought word OF the outside regions.
Of tbs way people up,river were sleigh
over the tops of fences, ofthe
immense snowfall IN the mountains,
and the fears OF what would happen
it III the spring if there should be
an early thaw And / remembered
some words that Marx used to quote
from q play he had SEEM "Bhen this.
melteth there shall come food"
I didn't care how many floods anne.