The Sunday morning news. [volume] (Jersey City [N.J.]) 1886-1891, 1890-02-02

AT Testers Corners he found what lac
sought, and. pleased 20 think that now
Susie would have her wedding loaf, was
leaving the depot when the station
master called after him.
There's a woman here waiting to
take Che stage TO Barclays" he said;
swill you give her rider
Samuel Dale turned back with reluct-
ance.
II don't know how to stop a minute. y
he said; 81 agreed to be back by 10
O'clock"
The man called to some one within,
and small woman, with pinched,
careworn face, and thin, light hair, APP
peared in the doorway. She was dress
ed in shabby black, and her clothing
was creased and tunbled and. soiled by
a long journey.
Here's gentleman viii take you to
Barclays, marin. said the man. "Hur-
ny up--he can't wait.
She looked timidiy in Samuel Dales
face, but still stood in the doorway.
ssThere's the box, sir, she said; would
the gentleman kindly take the boxy'
''Oh, that's all right, said the official.
"I'll send it up by the stage. Come,
jump aboard"
IF you please. sir, couldn't leave it
behind. l have brought that box long
way; I'm wait for the stage"
wait, thenr' he said, gruff1y; but
Samuel Dale marked the wonari's weary.
disappointed face.
Fetch along her traps, said he, ''and
don't be all day about it, either" but
half repented his kindness, for the box,
unwieldy iii its proportions and of no
light weight, occupied a goodly space in
the wagon, and the woman betrayed so
much anxious solicitude about its dis
posal as to somewhat impede their jour
ney.
els it quite safe, sir, do you thinkg'
she inquired timidly as the wagon iolted
down the hill.
II should say it was, marin, unless
there's chimney or glass or some such brit
tie thing inside of it"
s'0h, sir, it's deal more precious than
that. It's stone, SRA tombstone.
have brought it all the way from Sims
bury to put over my husbands grave
''Do tellr' said Samuel Dale.
His sympatfizing tone rendered her
communicative.
Eyes, sir; he died out here in strange
country, away from all his folks, and
when got word of it, it went nigh to
break my heart to think there wasn't SO
much as board to mark the spot where
he way lying" She stopped to wipe
away a few tears
s'Oh come, now" said the young man,
s'don't you feel bad about it. There's
mighty kind hearted folks In these parts,
specially 'Inong the women kind. Ill
warrant your man had good care and
didn't want for nothing"
"But you see, sir, he died of a linger-
ing disease, the letter said, and the nurs-
ing and the medicine and the doctors
bills took all bis earnings, and the town
had to bury him. And | sold most
everything l had, and Simshury folks
they helped me, and at last / got
money enough together to buy him
tombstone, and l have fetched it my
self. There was nothing TO hinder, for
/ put my last little boy in the ground
there's three of 'em, sir, lying side by
side in Sinsbury grave yard-two weeks
before l got the letter. It's been a
dreadful hard journey, sir, and never
was six miles from home in my life be-
fore; but if l can hear about my poor
mans last sickness, and the messages he
left for me, and see that stone put up
over his grave decent like, I'll go home
contented."
"Well. so you shall, said kind hearted
Samuel Dale.
''If you belong in these parts, sir, per-
haps you know Mr.. Barclay-Mr. Peter
BarclayY
as it there you want to go?'
"Why, yes, sir; twas he wrote me
the letter. My poor man died at his
house You didn't happen to hear about
it, sir?'
II reckon you've made a mistake in
the name,' said Samuel Dale.
With trembling, eager haste she drew
a letter from her pocket. 1t was soiled
and worn at the edges by many read
ings. Samuel Dale stopped his horse in
the middle of the road. and his eyes
dilated with establishment as he opened
the letter and recognized Farmer Bar
clay's handwriting. 1t read as follows:
BARCLAY FARM, August 12.
ITO MRS. NANCY TYLER:
RESPECTED MADAM-This is to in
form you that your late husband, Mr..
Thomas Tyler, departed this life at nv
house the ninth day of the present
month, of a lingering disease He bore
bis sufferings with Christian meekness.
and died at peace with all mankind.
When near his last hour he desired me
to write you this letter.
"Your obedient servant,
PETER BARCLAY.
IN. 3. The expenses of his sickness
having used all his earnings, he was
buried from my house at the expense of
the town"
Tho young man read this document
with a puzzled face, He examined the
postnark and the signature Then, as
no perused it second time, the paper
shook in his hand.
The wonan's anxious eyes never left
his face.
II hope It's all right. sir. haven't
made any mistake, have II
lie turned to her in q strange, excited
way.