The Mankato free press. [volume] (Mankato, Blue Earth County, Minn.) 1879-1924, 1891-04-24
LETTER FROM UNCLE JOSH.
FIDDLER's CREEK, April s.
No. 20.
Editor E.so n.oes.

Editor Free Press:
AS followed along down the creek
path, with heart as heavy as lead,
| cast my eyes over my own fields,
looking SO dreary and desolate that I
was wearied by the sight.
Beyond me on the brow of little
hill stood my house, that had been a
home for me during all these weary
years. 1t did not look as well to me
now as it did in my earlier years.
when hope was young and life was all
before me. Indeed, it did not look as
we'll to others; and there was hard
Juggling at my heart-strings, as all
the old hopes and ambitions of nv
earlier years came up before me. Year
after year had [ hoped to be able to
build me new home; but as the years
came and passed, bringing one disap-
pOintment after another, the better
times SO long looked fer, yet never at
hand, and still the old lOwly humble,
brown, weather-beaten house-and
the prospects for a better farther
away than ever, my courage gave way
for the moment and my eyes were fill
ed with tearS-and for the first time
in many, many years, | was home
sick. The Deacon's picture of the
old, old home by the sea, came up be-
fore me, and there, on the bank of
the creek, whose waters were swol-
len to torrent that reared, and
Seethed and tumbled on it's headlOng
way to the sea, Wept aloud. Stand
| ing there alone, where none could see
or hear, gave vent to my feelings,
and passions, that [ had deluded N.Y.
self into believing had been dead and
buried for many long year. But
this would never do. My poor, I'M
complaining wife must not see me.
giving way to sorrow. We were mar
ried when young, in quaint little
church, in quaint New England vii
| lage near the sea, and with hearts full
of courage and eagerness to begin life
where the fruits Of our toll would
compensate us for any sacrifice of
home ties, we came to Minnesota,
and as | looked back over all the years
of never ending toll, what had we to
show for it? Here was the same old
house we built with the few hundred
dollars my father gave me when we
started out to seek our fortune, and
my dear wife toiling within. with
never complaint, never word or
regret, always ready to encourage me
whenever | became dOWn-hearted, as
one crop after another yielded but
little more than the seed. Yet. with
all her patience and courage, | could
see that the years were telling upon
her. Little by little she was giving
way to the constant strain, and | felt
that she too could see that time, and
care, and disappointment was doing it's
work upon us both. For her sake I
must be strong and cheerful-so dry
ing my tears | sepped briskly along
the path, humming tune as [ went,
and soon found myself at my own
gate, and in a moment | was within
my own home. My wife met me at
the door, but as | kissed her as had
always been my custom when coming
in, ever since we were married, /
thought / detected signs of weeping
"Why, my dear wife," said /, 'what
has happened since | went out this
morning."
She looked up and smiled, and in a
voice that did not seem natural, she
replied; 81 came near being homesick
to-day. The time seemed so long,
and the day has been so lonesome and
dreary, and you stayed at the Dea
cons so long and | am so tired, dear
Josh. You will forgive me, won't
you? think it was some verses that
! / came across that has made me feel
SO sad and homesick. Sit down, my
der, and let us read them together
or you may read while | listen"
took the paper containing the
verses, and seating ourselves close be-
side each other she with one hand
on my shoulder, and overlooking the
page, read:
ga DREAM OF THE sea-
A farmer lad in his prairie home
Lay dreaming of the sea;
He nee'r had seen it, but well he knew
It's pictured image and heavenly hue;
And he dreamed he swept DER its waters blue,
| With the winds ALLOWING free,
With the winds so fresh and free.
He woke! and he said, "The day will come
| When this shall be truth to me-"
But as years swept by him he always found
| That his feet were clogged and his hands were
| Till at last he lay in narrow mound, TbOund,
| Afar from the sobbing sea,
The sorrowing, sobbing sea.
| Oh, many there are on the plains tonight,
| That dream of voyage to be,
And have said in their souls, The day will come
When my bark shall sweep through the drifts
| of foam"
But their eyes grow dim and their lips grow dumb
| Afar from the tossing sea;
The turbulent, tossing sea.
/ had scarcely finished the reading
when my wife threw herself into my
arms and wept as though her heart
would break.
UNCLE JOSH.
FIDDLER's CREEK, April TO-
No. q.
Editor Free Press: