Butler citizen. [volume] (Butler, Pa.) 1877-1922, 1892-01-22
"Over the Hill to the Poor House.

'Over the f1lil 10 the FoOr TaouSc.
The most pathetic article we have seen
for some time is the following eommuni-
cation to the Indiana Pa Messenger, by an
old aunty of that county,
You know I've led pretty lonely life
Father died and left mother and three
girls of us on a little farm that was run
down badly And there was lot OF taxes
from away back. and doctors bills and
funeral expenses, and when we picked uI
courage enough to look into the shape OF
things when we come back from the grave
yard, and the neighbors had gone home,
it looked pretty hard lines. was the old
est of the family, and there wasn't much
chance of my bettering my condition. The
other two girls, Merandi and Nancy Jane
were rather good-looking. "Mf'-we call
ed Merandi that for short-could teach
school, and "N. 1--WE called her that
for short, too,-was pert and smart in the
way of knitting, and sewing, and patching,
and she could make the spinning wheel
Just hum, too; and had knack of knowing
where to find the goose eggs and keep the
run of the turkeys. But, la those turkeys
and the cid geese flock were just born
wanderers, and when n. J. went after them
through the old meadow and down along
the run and up in the second growth tim
ber, it just seemed as though the brown
sedge grass and the turning leaves, and the
slanting shadows OF the clouds on the hills
over toward Rays round top, kind of para
lyzed her, and she grew wild and wayward
and one day she went out ofour lives alto
gether, with her gentle blue eyes, and hel
sweet voice, and her caroling laughter thai
made music for us, however sad we were
But wherever she is now, l know tha
down in the fountain depths of her hear
there is singing the old lullabys and tht
loves of her childhood. Mother didn't live
long after n. j. went missing. Her eyei
had far away leok; and it was always II
the direction of the old graveyard, where
her dear Robert rested peacefully, beneath
little grassy mound, unmarked, save by
the gsntle tears that fell upon it and the
old and trembling fingers that down the
unsightly weeds. Then, all too soon, and,
ah! how sad, was the day when "Mi" and
saw her open grave and heard the earth
clods fall upon her last narrow easement
But other sorrows came.
The little home we loved SO dearly, was
taken from us, and we got from neighbol
an humble hut in which to live and in
which to gather our little remaining house
hold treasures. "Mi" thought she would
find way to be tier our conditions, and
she went out into the world, but had
scarcely entered when dread contagion
overlook her, and death came quick.
Scanty as was my little home, her death
absorbed much OF it;and when she too, lay
beside her father and mother, there SEEM
ed little left for me. But time passed and
have gathered about me some homelike
comforts. As long as my strength lasted
managed to live,-humbly, it is true, -
but Independently and happy. There has
always been in my heart hope that my
wayward sister would return, and that I
could once more enfold her in my arms
anc sink again into restful slumber at her
side. But age-Old and sorrowing age,
has come on,- and the kindly offerings of
neighbors have become necessity; and even
the rendered aid Of the poor overseer has
b cen welcomed. / still live in my little
cottage. have mothers old comforts-the
easy chair cane rocker, her patchwork
quilts, the yellow stained plates and cups;
the faded linen and old fashioned mugs.
The quilted rugs still lay before the fire.
place ,-scantily heated these days, but
still cheerful and home-like. And it is my
home. For more than forty years / have
sat in the cot. Lives have come and gone.
The great world about me has grown be-
yond my knowledge. The little assistance
l get from kindly neighbors and the CRATE
ful luxuries that come from the overseer,
who was little blue-eyed lad when my
hair had grown thin and gray, soothe my
heart and make it almost glad.
But hear of some sordid neighbors who
think poor house is better for us who
have almost faded out of life. They tell
me of its comforts and the care that will
be taken of me; but they do not tell me OF
the herds oil coarse, uncultured and beast
ly people with whom shall have to live.
/ have only few years more. May God
save me from the last and worst degrade
tion of living dependent and in association
with the vilest of humanity. I would
welcome, yea, invite death rather than this.
For years you have sent me your paper.
You have known that I was unable to pay
you for it, and have often assured me that
you felt grateful to have the opportunity
to make me pleased and happy. The Mes
senger now, as 1t has been for years, is my
stay and happiness. In your fight against
the pauper home, you have my prayers for
success can tell you more about my life
and needs, and you may send your boy
again.
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