The Forest Republican. [volume] (Tionesta, Pa.) 1869-1952, 1892-04-27

ing ground. She tended babies for tired
women aud talked to the men of farming
and crops or told the children Bible
stories, but never word she said of her
self, not one.
On again, guided by kindly hands
through the great bcwildering city by
the lake, and now through yet strange
land. Tired and worn by night IN the
uncomfortable seats her brave spirit be-
gan to fall a little. AS the wide, level
plains, lonely and drear, dawned on her
sight she sighed often.
''It's dre'ful big world" she said to
a gray bearded old farmer near her; $50
big feel e'enmost lost in it, but, hope
fully, "across them deserts like this long
ago Providence sent star to guide them
wise men of the East, an hain't lost
my faith"
But as the day wore on, and still the
long, monotonous land showed no human
habitation, no oasis of green, her eyes
dimmed, something like sob rose under
the black kerchief on the bowed should
ers, and the spectacles were taken off
with trembling hand and put away care
fully in the worn tin case.
''Be ye goin' fur, motherG" said the old
| farmer.
He had bought her cup of coffee at
the last station, and had pointed out on
the way things he thought might interest
her
'sTo Denver"
"Wal, wal; you're from New England,
II be bound"
"From Maine" she answered; and
then she grew communicative, for she
was always chatty old lady, and she
had possessed her soul in silence so long,
and it was relief to tell the story of her
weary years of waiting to kindly lis
tener.
She told him all the relations she had
were two grand nephews and their fami
lies. That twenty years ago Sam Qor
she had brought them up when their
parents died of consumption, that takes
so many of our folks) went out West. He
was always adventurous, and for ten
years she did not hear from him; but
John was different and steady, and when
he came of age she had given him her
farm, with the provision that she should
always have home, otherwise he would
have gone away, too. We'll for years
they were happy, then John married, and
his wife had grown to think her a bur-
den as the years went on, and the chill
dren when they grew big did not care for
her; she felt that she had lived too long.
81 growed so lonesome" she said
pathetically, "it seems couldn't take
up heart to live day by day, an yit |
knowed our folks was long lived. Ten
years back, when Sam wrote he was doin'
fair an sent me money. 1 begun to
think of him; fur he was allus generous
an kind, an the gratefulest boy, an so
| began to save to go to him, fur
kncwed l could work my board for q
good many years to come. Fur three
years he amt hardly wrote, but laid
that to the wild kentry he lived In.
said bars and Injuns don't skeer me
none, fur when 1 was gal up in
Aroostuk kentry there was plenty of
both, an as fur buffalers them horned
cattle don't skeer me none, fur I've been
used to farm allus. But the lone
sumness of these medders has sorter up
sot me and made me think every day Sam
was further off than l ever calc'lated
on"
"But what will you do if Sam amt in
Denver2" asked the farmer.
"I hev put my faith in Providence" >"
she answered simply, and the stranger
could not mar that trust by any word of
warning.
He gave her his address as he got off
at the Nebraska line, and told her to
send him word if she needed help. With
a warm hand clasp he parted from her to
| Join the phantoms in her memory Of
"folks that had been kind to her, God
bless me, and then the train was rum
bling on.
But many of the passengers had lis
tened 10 her story and were interested,
and they came to sit with her.
One pale, little lad in seat in front,
turned to look at her now and then and
to answer her smile. He was going to
the new country for health and wealth,
poor lad, only TO find eternal rest in the
sunny land, but his last days frightened
by the reward for his thoughtful acts of
kindness.
"She probably brought those boys
up" he thought, 'and denied her life
for them. Is she to die unrewarded, l
wonder2 There cannot be any good in
the world if that be So" He thought of
her and took out his pursel There was
so little money in it, too, every cent
made a big hole in his store; but the
consciousness of good deed was worth
something. 81 mayn't have the chance
to do many more," thought the lad, but
toning his worn overcoat.
He slipped off without a word at a
station and sent a telegram to Denver.
"To Samuel Blair'-for he had caught
the name from her talk-'Your Aunt
Hannah Blair is on the w. and w. train
coming TO you"
1t was only a straw, but a kindly
wind might blow it to the right one after
ALL
When he was sitting there after his
message had gone on its way, she leaned
over and handed him peppermint drop
from package in her pocket.
"You don't look strong, dearie, she
said, "hain't We no folks with YET"
"NOne on earth.
"Were both lone Ones" she smiled;
san how sad it be there amt no one to
fuss over ye. Aur' be keerful of the
drafts, and keep hannels allus on your
chist; that is good for the lungs"
"You are very kind to take an interest
in me-" he smiled, "but l am afraid it
is too late"
Another night of weary slumber in the