The weekly messenger. [volume] (St. Martinsville [i.e. St. Martinville] La.) 1886-1948, 1890-11-22
Hale called to mind her husbands Joy


| over this color in the stone.
"Aggie, I've struck it at last" he
would exclaim. joyfully, throwing down
his dinner-pail, us he rushed excitedly
into the cabin. There's the stuff I"
and he would point with trembling fin
gers to the satfrOn-colored streak.
Agnes would look through the magni-
| flying glass at what, to her inexperienced
| eyes, seemed more ordinary stone than
any she had seen, and yet all the time
feel the tuggings of hope within her
hope that she disapproved of. Her sad
heart was like unto obstinate ears that
wish not to hear, still cannot close them
selves against the sound of sweet music.
And now the weary woman Felt that the
West was so full of little graves of hopes
that, look which way she would, some
thing called for her tears
They had sold the blacksmith shop
and the pretty little home in Maine, and
their price, together with some money
saved, had brought them West, and was
supporting them while Mr.. Hale dug in
the hills for gold to take its place.
He had ''prospected" the hills over for
months after their arrival, leaving the
wife and the little three year-old girl in
the rough mining camp among strangers.
Now, however, he had found his '.mine"
in a cliff on the mountain side, not far
above the sheltered canyon. Below it. in
grove of unbending frs. he had built Il
log-cabin, and there Agnes and baby
Bess now dwelt, hardly more lonely than
in the strange camp ten miles away.
The cabin contained one room, with a
dirt floor, fireplace in one corner, Il
bunk bed in another. and a table and two
or three chairs besides. A mountain
creek ran near the house, from which the
family secured supply of water; but the
country about was bleak and bare of
verdure, beyond cedars and mountain
bushes. The altitude was too high for
the flowers and garden things dear to a
New England heart. Sometimes Bessie
would climb up on the rocks and gather
big, blue celumbine or cluster of del
lcate ferns, which graced the most
austere places, and the child's heart was
g!addened for hours. But when the
mother tried to transplant their roots to
the cabin door-yard they always died.
1t was now several weeks since she had
begun to be uneasy about Bessie. Not
that the child was really sick. She was
out and in at the cabin door like a sun
beam; now pattcring over the stones to
the creek, with her unsteady baby feet,
and now chattering to the nodding colum-
bincs in a language all her own.
But, day after day, it grew oftener
that she would sit down and rest
her little face in her hands, or say, plant
lively:
Mamma, I'm tied" and ask to be
held.
Agnes began to be haunted by a terrible
dread from the fact that she was not so
heavy to lift as she had been, and her
cheeks were less pink But when the
child was at play again she would say to
herself:
Il fear | am growing fanciful. Per-
maps Frank Is right, and this home
sickness is going to my head. If l only
had work. to do, something to sew. some
thing to read To live entirely in ones
self like this is to wear out like au old
house untenanted-wear out heart and
body"
She leaned her troubled face against
the door-post. and looked away up to the |
barren rocks and the unbending tir-t trees
that sheltered the canyon. She seemed /
unable any longer to see, even with
spiritual eyes, farther upward than these
prison walls.
Her husband came down in the evening I,
more tired than usual. All day long he |
had worked, with no encouragement be-
yond getting deeper In the side of the
''Of course" he said. as he sat down
at the rough, uncovered table to the eve |
ming meal always late one on his ac-
count, ''these 'pay-streaks' don't Law out
on the open ground, Every foot 90 in \
is SO much gained, and any day | NAV
come upon body of mineral which will ;
set us way up. So | am never discour-
aged so long as | am following the vein"
Nevertheless, he was more silent than
usual after supper. He forgot even to
take Bessie on his knee. and sa. bv the
hTeside and smoked in deep reflection.
by and by his wife, thinking this
might be a favorable time, said, plead
ingly:
ID, Frank, let us go back. We would
have little left if we went now.
and that little would be better than this
dreadful uncertainty"
The man seemed provoked in mo-
ment.
Agnes Hale, giving up never used to
rim IN our family; but you are developing
the quality amazingly lately. The idea
OF running back just because one is a
little tired, and leaving fortune sticking
out of the ground--perhaps not exactly
sticking out" Suddenly remembering
the days hard work that failed to un
rOyer n \ s.hut - 10 ,boro -