New Ulm weekly review. [volume] (New Ulm, Minn.) 1878-1892, 1891-10-21

LIS WHITTIER IOt1l1u tsnS COME DaCKaE TO
US lookin' the soberest an solemnests
1 ever seen a Teller look in all my life.
BY gosh, stranger, you may not be-
lleye it, but I'd most swear they was
tears in old Jim's eyes, an / know
when he spoke to us his voice was all
a-tremble like his feelin's was too
much for him.
1T was a good bit before Jim said
a word, an all the time he les set thar
on a inverted bucket nussin' his head
in his hands, an actin as if he was
dreadful cut up. We stood round an
looked at him, a-Wonderin' what it
speak to him, sayin':
What's ailin' you, Jim?'
s'Then he raised his head sorter
slow like, an in a tone so sad an in
different from what his allus was,
that I didn't recognize it, he said:
"'Boys, Pm jis' completely upset
by what heard over thar, an feel SO
blame sneakin' mean that I've a. great
! notion to shoot myself. Inever know
| ed before how onery am
| "Course we was all s'prised at that
| sort o talk from Jim, cause he was SO
| blamed tough we didn't s'posenothing
'ud tech his heart, and we was anxious
to know what he'd heard over to the
! wagon, an so we axed him.
"'Wal, he said, II went over thar
to shoot that settler, an ] was
| slippin' up to the wagon to git the
draw on him, when all at once l heard
a voice-the meekest, pitifulest little
voice [ ever heard in my life, an I
| knowed in a minute it was the voice
of a leetle gall
"Jim's voice choked up so he
couldn't say nothin' more, so he watt
ed a moment, an then he went on:
went through me like a knife. an I
never felt so cussed squaire since l was
born. It was so weak, an so pitiful,
an so helpless like. I heard it say:
"'Is the land pretty, pa? Is it green
with grass like the old home back
East?'
"'Yes, it is very beautiful, darling,
a man replied like he was cryin'. It's
very pretty, an you will find the
green prairie almost as nice as the big
meadow back at the old home. When
you get we'll you can romp over the
plain and gather flowers and be very
happy:
more, pa, the little voice said, and I
won't never gather no flowers nor
romp over the prairie; but Pm glad
it's pretty, cause when Pm in Heaven
where the angels are, an where every
thing is so beautiful an bright, Iwant
to know that you an ma have nice
home like the old one we lost. I won't
be with you very long now, pa, cause
l can hear the angels singin', an I
know they're comm to take me away.
Don't cry, dear pa an ma, cause
amt sorry to go-only don't like to
leave you. I'm so glad you're goln'
to have beautiful home where the
grass an the flowers grow; an some
times, maybe, I'll come back to see
you
oval, sir, we never heard nothin'
more bout keepin' settlers off en- the
valley, an we never tried to hold none
OF it 'cept what the law Titled us to
hold. Big Jim an all the rest of us
helped the settlers EVERYDAY, we could
and when the angels came fer his leetle
gal an took her spirit away, we made
grave on the prairie an buried her
whar the grass growed and whar Big
Jim planted a tree an some flowers.
never see old Jim cry before, stranger,
but he shed tears over that grave like
the leetle gal was his own, and from
that day he was different man, an
as kind an gentle as a woman
Thomas P. Montfort in Detroit Free
Press.