The Jersey City news. (Jersey City [N.J.]) 1889-1906, 1890-11-26
HOW SHE FOUND JACK.
A Thanksgiving Story OF
The last And The
West
BY a. II. GIBSON.

It's 4 Ot gun Wtot Ter JtChs SUE
repeated softly to herself. as If she feared
being overheard
Her resolve sent a glow TO the faded
cheeks Of the aged woman. and her
hands treinbled so much that she found
difficulty in completing the household
tasks. which the family had left for her
to do.
IF Peter s'pects OF a suddint as | be
amin ter run away frurn him an go out
west ter Jack he'd come postin' right
home from them doin's at Ligonier an
stop me. Then | reckon I'd be shut up
In the insane house. like his wife onct
threated 50 fierce like. Well. | be goin
ter try mighty strong ter git away" and
with sprightly movements that seemed
TO belle her years the woman began to
dress as II for a long journey.
Satisfying herself that she had every
thing ready which she wished to take
with her. she dropped on her aged knees
by her bedside. and sent up her last
prayer In the home that had been hers
for 50 many. many years. and asked God
to be with her on her journey, and for
give them who had so cruelty treated her.
Strengthened by her prayer, and TAX
ing up An ancient looking carpet bag,
she left the comfortable house on the
mountain side. and walked rapidly
away through the trees.
Reaching a little hillock the aged
woman stopped and looked behind her.
She suddenly realized how hard it Is for
one of her years to break away forever
from scenes and associations that had
become a part of her life.
Her eyes grew moist as she gazed at
the meadows and woods tinted with gold
and brown in the late autumn. Her gaze
dwelt, too, on the pretty. plump COWS,
which many a time her hands had fed
and MIXED.
Then her eyes wandered back to the
comfortable Pennsylvania farm house,
with its fruitful orchards and well filed
barns. and over the fields stretching away
far down in the lovely valley, and on to
the picturesque mountains with their
evergreen vegetation.
"Good-by, ole homeF" she said, with a
touching quayer in the voice which all
her loveless years had not robbed Of its
motherly sweetness; II be runnin' away
from ye. Pears like Their Lord has gin
me ter see clear as it be Their only way
I'm ter snatch a bit o rail happiness in
this life. Oh, fields an home an noun
tainsl | be lookin' my last on yer. I'm
Off ter find jack"
Across the fields the little old woman,
sad faced and heart hungry. trudged Oh
carefully through the wild blackberry
vines. then into a narrow path and out
at u small gap in the fence to the broad.
beaten path that wound in and out
among the beautiful wild laurel at the
foot OF the mountains. Then picking
her way across a limpid trout stream
she reached a crossing where the train
often stopped to pick up country pas
sengers.
II reckon Peter an his wife'd sure
swear as | be crazy II they'd kitch me-"
she said, glancing apprehensiyely about
her. as II she expected to see a pursuer.
But not u person was in sight. Every
body except perhaps the Indifferent
mountaineers had doubtless followed the
example of Peter Tompkins and his fam
lily, and gone to Ligonier to the ''doings."
She had not waited more than a half
hour when a heavy. rumbling sound fell
on her ears. The train was coming!
How her poor old heart leaped as the
shrill whistle resounded among those
laurel enameled hills!
Her steps did not falter, however, as
she approached the track, waving her
shawl as a signal for them TO stop. The
conductor saw her, stopped the train
and helped her aboard. He could not
avoid noticing how e a she was, and
though she must have been over 70 years
old how sprightly she vas.
Where to-" he asked kindly, having
seated her comfortably in the train.
Ter Pittsburg." she replied, taking
out an old fashioned reticule. Opening
it she disclosed her knitting and a clean.
yellow cotton handkerchief, in the folds
Of which she kept her money, the little
sums which Jack had sent her from time
to time from the far west, and others
which were the fruits of her own indus
try.
At Pittsburg she bought a through
ticket to Denver, Colo.
"It's u long, tiresome trip for one Of
your years. remarked the conductor.
who had assisted her.
"Yes, | reckon it be" she returned,
sbut thar be worse things ter endure in
this life than long trips on kyars-then
I be mighty sprylike fur a tolble ole
woman"
"You have friends out thereg"
"Yes: | be goin' ter Jack"
"And you're going all alone?' he asked
sympathizingly.
"Ther Lord, he be with me" she re-
Piled with one of her dear, old motherly
smiles.
He did not leave her until he had seen
her seated on the right train; then he
went home to his young wife and baby,
and, with tears in his manly eyes, told
of the old lady who was travein <all the
long distance from the Pennsylvania
mountains to some wild place in the far
away west
At Chicago a roughly clad, but kindly
natured. elderly westerner, Silas Carrick
by NAME. boarded the train for Denver.
He became interested at once in the little
old fashioned woman, who reminded him
in SO many ways of his W mother, long