Barton County democrat. [volume] (Great Bend, Kan.) 1885-1915, 1890-12-18

moil. A humble cottage met my Wis
ion, andomy ears were drinking in the
sweet tones of tenderness peculiar to a
mothers voice. 1 could fancy the touch
of her soft hand upon my aching head,
as she smoothed my heavy tresses
back from my brow in the old caressing
way, and kissed my forehead I could
almost catch the gentle tones with which
knew she would address me, were she
present now.
Courage, my child; and remember
that mothers prayers are always with
You, and that He who cares for the spar
row will also watch over you and give
you strength for the battle of life. It
is hard, know"
Gan you write letter, Miss?"
The bridge and its great panorama had
long since vanished from my physical
senses; the village home SWIFTLY fol-
lowed now. The dear old mothers face
faded and disappeared. Her gentle in
junction, woven into her blessing, was
rudely shattered by this terse, matter
of-fact query. came out of my dream
life with painful shock which left me
for a moment speechless. I looked at
the man dumfounded. He seemed what,
in my limited experience, a Western
miner ought to look like. A broad
brimmed SLOUGH hat coarse trousers in
side of heavy boots and fur coat gave
him the appearance of a grizzly bear,
such as 1 had seen pictured In my
school-books. His face, however. was
kind, pleasant, and wore a respectful
expression. He was a man probably
not more than thirty-five years of age
Could / write letter? Well! Could
human machine rotate and move in it's
well-worn grooves? Could a type
writer record human speech?
s.Can write letter?' 1 interrogated,
mechanically, still gazing at him
blankly.
.'That's about the size of it, Miss" he
assented, with slight relaxation of his
sad look. ''You see, Miss. I've just
come on from Leadville, where I've been
for about ten years I've made lots of
money out there in the mines and I've
come back to settle down. I've got to
stay in the city for a week or two on
some business, and so thought I'd just
get some one to write a letter for me to
my old mother"
"P1l write your letter." I said,
promptly. The ''old mother had
settled the matter with me. My weari-
ness seemed to have gone with the
faded pictures.
ssBut," said I, thoughtlessly. s'why do
not you write it yourself? Your mother.
am sure, would value it more if writ
ten by you"
Guess I couldn't do it, Miss" he
said. with panied look. 'I'm learn
inn 70 70 Int Of hn old
mother couldn't read my writing now"
He had picked up my pencil, and was
scribbling on a piece of paper. could
you read that?'' he asked, handing it to
me.
managed to decipher s.mother," but
| that was all could make out.
You used your left hand" said 1;
''why do not you learn to write with
your right, instead?" Thoughtlessly
| the question was put. and it produced a
! deeper pain on his face.
ooh! know how to write with that. y
said he, hesitatingly.
noticed his increasing perplexity,
and also the fact that he did not with
| draw his right arm from his coat
! pocket
''Then why do you not use that hand?'
/
| "Well, Miss. you see left that hand
out in Leadville. An explosion took il
| Off"
He had put the pencil down. and
looked quite discouraged at his efforts.
longed to make amends for the pain
had thoughtlessly occasioned; so went
to the little typewriter, saying: Il will
write your letter on this"
But what is that?" he asked, with a
puzzled look, laying his hand on the
machine.
Iexplained by showing him sheet
of the typewriting. He looked it over
quizzically and handed it back to me
with a negative shake of the head, say
ing: "Not any for me, Miss. The poor
old mother wouldn't like it. She'd
think it was newspaper work. I want
her to have a real, genuine, hand-writ
letter; something more sociable like
| you know"
/ hesitated for an instant. 1 was
tired and wanted to get away from the
Office. OF course could write his letter
with pen and ink; but it was only ques
ton whether 1 should humor him OF
not decided in his favor. had been
musing. I had a lOng-absent friend
alSOs out In the western country some
| where. He had left mother-and me
years ago. We were very dear to eacl
other once. but light cloud separated
us; and yet 1 loved him still. Perhaps
we might yet meet under more joyou.
circumstances. Who knows?
The stranger noticed my hesitation
momentary though it was, and ven
tured: Mother would be so pleased t,
have"
ayes, of course 1 interrupted, full,
decided seized pen, and, placing
sheet of paper before me, said I wa
all ready to proceed.
Il want it to go something like this,
he began, thoughtfully: "'Dear ole
mother.
I melted, as traced those words O,
the sheet. They were the key to M
heart and they had unlocked it. 81
seemed wrestling with some problem
and tried to encourage him to procee,
with the dictation.
81 want it writ kind and tender like
just like I'd talk to her if she wa
here"