Morning appeal. [volume] (Carson City, Nev.) 1877-1906, 1890-04-27

had were two grand d-nephews and their
families. That twenty years ago Sam
flor she had brought them both up
when their parents died of consump
ton, that takes so many of our folks)
went out West. He was always ad-
venturous, and for ten years she did
not hear from him; but John was diff
/ ferent and steady, and when he came
of age she had given him her farm,
with the provision that she should
always have home, otherwise he
would have gone away too. Well for
five years they were happy. then John
married, and his wife had grown to
think her a burden as the years went
on, and the children as they grew up
did not care for her, so she felt she
had lived too long.
al growed SO lonesome. she said
pathetically. "it seems | couldn't take
UP nv heart to live day by day, an
yit | knowed our folks were long liveo.
Ten years back when Sam wrote back
he was a doin fair an sent me money
| began to think of him; fur he was
ailus generous an kind, an the CRATE
fullest bov, an so began to save TO go
to him, fur knowed could work
my board fur good meny years to
come. Fur three years he amt hardly
wrote, but laid that to the wild kentry
he lived in. | said bars an Injuns
don't skeer me none, fur when was
gal up in Aroostuk kentry there
were plenty Of both, an as fur buffalers
them horned cattle don't skeer me
none, fur I've used to a farm. But
the lonesumness of these medders has
sorter upset me an made me think
every dav Sam was further off than |
ever calc'lated on.
But what will you do if Sam amt
in Denver?" asked the farmer
81 hev put my faith in Providence"
she answered simply, and the stranger
could not ",ar that trust by any word
of warning.
He gave her his address as he got
of at the Nebraska line, and told her
to send him word if she needed help
Many of the passengers heard her
story and were interested. One pale
little lad in the front seat turned round
to look at her now and then and to
answer her smile. He was going to
the new country for health, poor lad.
"She probably brought those boys
up" he thought, "and denied her life
for them Is she to die unrewarded
l wonder There can't be any good
in the world if that be So" He
thought of her and took out his poor
pnrse; there was little money in it, too,
every cent made big hole in his store
but the consciousness of good deed |
was worth something. Il may not |
have chance to do many more"
thought the lad, buttoning his worn
coat.
He slipped off without word at a
at station and sent telegram to
Denver.
10 Samuel Blair'-for he had
,aught the name from her talk
. Your Aunt Hannah Blair of Maine
5 on the w. & w. train coming to you.
1t was only straw, but kindly
wind might blow it to the right one.
When he was sitting there after his
Message had gone on its way. she
eaned over and handed him pepper
mint drop from package she had.
You don't look strong, dearie, amt
e got no folks with yes'
"None on earth."
"We are both lone ones," she smil-
d. An how sad it be there aint no
ne to fuss over We. An be keerful OF
he drafts, and keep flannel allus on
our chist, that is good fur the lungs.
You are very kind to take an in
crest in me-" he smiled, "but am
fraid it is too late"
Another night of weary slumher in
ne cramped seats, and then the plain
egan to be dotted with villages, and
Don appeared the outskirts of city,
nd the train ran shrieking into. the
lbyrinth of its destination.
"This is Denver" said the lad to
er, "and I'll look after you as well as
can."
81 wun't be no burden" she said. !
I've twenty dollars yet. and that's a
ght of money!
The train halted to let the eastward
ound express pass, passengers were
citing ready to depart gathering up
iggage and wraps.