Martinsburg independent. [volume] (Martinsburg, W. Va.) 1875-1900, 1890-11-22
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A PRAIRIE SUNDAY.
BY LILLIAN GREY, IN ARTHUR's HOME
MAGAZINE.

MAGAZINE"
90 Jack / think / shall die.
What did you bring me way out
here for?n
John, sitting in his rocking-chair,
looked wistfully up at the little wo-
man standing in the doorway; she
was fair and sweet to look upon; and
her eyes were blue as fax-blossoms,
but just now there was such a trou-
bled, appealing look to them, and
her hands were nervously twisting
themselves together.
"Why, Mile my dear little grip
John said, coming up to her and
smoothing the brown hair back from
her forehead, but he did not attempt
to answer her question, he had done
that so many times.
Its so much worse Sundays"
she continued. "Other days one can
work and partly forget how lonely it
is, but Sundays the silence and lone
someness is perfectly dreadful. I
don't know how to endure it any
longer
s'But, dear, it's such beautiful
day."
Yes, as still as death. I'd rather
hear the wind and rain, than not to
hear anything. 1t seems as if you
and / were the only two people in
the whole world, Jack"
:" Yes but / thought we promised
to be all the world to each other, and
you were my princess, you know,
like the one in the story:
" And DER the hills and far away,
Beyond their utmost purple rim,
Peyond the night, across the day,
Through all the world she followed him.
Mile smile a little at this, and
said
eyes, I came willingly enough,
but l did not know how dreary it
was out here beyond the utmost
rim of the hills"
Poor child does your head ache
today"
He would fain have found some
physical cause for her depression.
No, l don't think it does much !;
but my heart-that feels like lead
en- weight"
She turned again to the door and
looked off over the prairie simmer
ing under the hot July sunshine.
How dreary and barren it looked.
Come. dear, put up our lunch
and get your hat, and we'll go over
to the cotton-woods for our Sunday
outing"
There's nothing to see at the
cotton-woods."
I" Why, yes, Millie you forget the
swing | put up for you last Sunday"
"Oh ! yes, you're dear good fell
low not to get out of patience with
me, after all, but do get so discou.
ragged and homesick."
Yes, never mind now, we won't
get homesick to-day. Let's start be-
fore the sun gets hotter"
And in few minutes they started
ffquite merrily swinging pail be-
tween them like Jack and Jill in the
olden story, only the pail contained
a substantial lunch and can of cot
fee for their picnic dinner, but, I'M
like their famous predecessors, they
had no hill to climb. Obi if there
was only one-one, no matter how
rocky and steep, Mile thought !;
and ferny hollows and almost mac
cessible grottoes, such as she used to
delight in near her old Eastern home.
But instead here was only the roll
ing, blossom-covered prairie SEEM
ingly limitess nota house in sight
except their own, no passing of wag-
ons save at long intervals, 10 fruit
full orchards and groves of naples,
and no human companionship-this
last, worst of all.
To be sure she had Jack, and he
was the best company in the world,
but how it would stir and freshen
both OF them up if they only had
near neighbors, even il they did bor-
row tea and molasses, baking-powdcr
and matches, and forget to return
them as neighbors do. But, on the
other hand, she could borrow of
them when she got out of things and
Jack was too busy to go to town, for
there was a town consisting of some
thirty houses dozen miles away to
the north, and at eleven o'clock on
Sunday there was always meeting
held in the little school-house.
Jack and Mile had sometimes
gone over, and how good and restful,
and like the dear old times it seemed
to be again in worshiping assem-
bly,, and then after service was over