The Republican. [volume] (Oakland, Md.) 1877-current, 1890-08-08
"ATTEMPTED SUICIDE"

Your Honor, ha'nt got word to say in my de-
Tense;
You've listened to the painful Jacks, but ef it's
no offcnse
I'll tell you in simple way amt great on
the talk
whyfore gray old chap like me wanted to
'cut the stalk"
It's forty year since me and Ruth wuz tied as
man and wife,
And nary mortal ever had truer mate for life.
III all them years we never had a word as you'd
call cross
(Barrin' the Christmas Day she bruk the knees
of JEFF, the hoss).
We growcd up like a elm that runs two stems
from the same bole;
Sometimes 1 thought that over yond' we'd on'y
have one soul!
never done thing I didn't ask her 'pinion
fust,
And of'ner than you'd think found my own
way WIZ the wust.
When nabers asked me how's my farm I'd
erect 'em-say twas hcr'n,
That Ruth done all the thinkin' work and wuz
thar to learn.
She saved and saved and paid and paid until
the place wuz clear
Poor gal, she didn't 'spect 'twould go so soon
ter tn auctioneer!
We never had no chillcn, barrn Zach, and he
wer bad;
Cut off FIN hum and went to N'Yorl ter larn to
write and add:
Said me and mother hedn't sense ter come in
out the rain.
I'spcct he's dead, or doctcrin' p'r'aps fer gram
mar on the brain.
That's years and years and years ago; but Ruth
she never blamed
The lad as gave us up 'acos of home he wuz
ashamed
She larnt me how ter write quite good, a-sayin
as our Zach
I'D be so proud his father knowed so much
when he got back.
But Zach he'd throwed us up fer good; and so
fer many years
His mothers heart wuz wearn down with
floods of secret tears;
often catched her weepin' when come in fer
my tea,
And thinks: Poor lass, you're breakin' fast
with too much constancy."
One stormy day she stayed a'bed, and sat by
her side;
(The rain come down like Nigra). just sat
thar and cried,
Fer che talked of sunny meadows, seemed ter
hear sweet songs afar;
And knowcd the Lord had sent down word He
wanted her up thar
Then when She fetched around a bit she says
ter nc, says she:
-'Dont be too crOsSt with Zach-and practice
on that capital D.
I'll tell the Lord how good you wuz; although
He hears and sees
And knows we never had no words, 'cept bout
that hosS'S knees
IT ketchcd me In tender pint ter see her thar
so sick,
Troublcn about my writin' and about my 'rith-
rictiC.
She took my hand, we kissed goodbye, and
ranged ter meet agen
Where tears is tears Of gladness and death
can't enter in.
Your Honor when I'd buried her my life wuz
struck with blight;
There weren't blame thing round the farm
that could tend to right.
My thoughts weren't thar. One day took the
boss ter get a shoe,
Aud woke up standin' by the stun readin' aged
sixty-two."
And so at last selled the farm and went ter
find that lad,
ThinSin' that pr'aps he'd growed out Of his
shame fer his old dad.
For twenty months I've s'arched and Searched
and end up now in N'York.
All gone-too poor ter drive around and much
too tired to walk.
And then, Oh blessed Godl I'm glad We sped
that bullet wide,
Thered ben tear ia Heav'n if had died
suicide.
His Honor's tainted! Water here! Where is
my specks? Jccwacl!
Ruth. Ruth! look down from Paradisel I've
found him. Here's our Zach!
Thomas Frost in n. Y. Herald.