The Pioche weekly record. [volume] (Pioche, Nev.) 1877-1900, 1892-02-04
HOW MARGIE DIED.
Pathetic Incident OF o Railway
TravoloTa Journey.
A Homely Story from the Daily Life
of Homoly People-The Mis-
takes OF IA Life OF Toll
and Drudgcry.

and Drudgery.
The train was half hundred miles
out of Chicago, headed for the city, and
at a little station an old farmer came
aboard. He was little, weazcncd
man, with o sensitive mouth half con
ccaled by an iron-gray beard. His i'll
fitting clothes were evidently his most
uncomfortable best and he moved awll-
wardly and stifily in them There were
no vacant seats, says the Chicago Mail
and after some hesitation he slid softly
into one occupied by grave stranger,
intent upon his paper The old man
was i'll at ease and as he turned care
worn, haggard face toward the brown,
flying landscape it showed marks OF
some recent trouble. The stranger
laid aside his paper after awhile and
half wisthlly the old man glanced at
him. He spoke at last, with a strange
huskincss I'm goin to the city for
the second time in my life he said,
half startled at his own voice.
"Ycs?" and in the intonation of the
others there was an invitation to go on.
"The second time" repeated the old
man; thirty year ago, come June,
went there for weddin' suit, and I'm
a-goin back there to-day for coffin
and a shrond for-the little woman that
married me-"
His voice broke, and turning again
to the window he looked out upon the
dull, cold landscape and was silent
many minutes.
You don't know what it is, mister;
you can't understand" and he was cry
ing very softly and hopelessly. "You
don't know what it is to live and work
'longsidc of woman for thirty years,
day II and day out, to find her always
patent and wllin' and workin'-and
then leave her a-layin dead and cold
with her WORKOUT hands crossed on her
breast. You don't have no idee what it
IS" and the sleeve of the old man was
drawn ALPHABETICALLY across his eyes.
I've ben thinliin' good deal since
last night when Margie died; it kinder
puts a man to his thoughts. 1t was just
u little after the turn o the night, and
nobndy but me was watchin', when she
kinder woke up, like, as if she'd ben
rflo"N
david, says she, rts rest1m-so
restful, and took hold of her hand;
lis that you a-singin', David?' says she.
Go on, but hadn't sung word and
couldn't a done it-'go on, David, says
she, and I'll be restin', for I'm so tired
And SO She went to sleep again and
walked up in eternity.
"And do You know, stranger, them
words o hcr'n have set me to thinliin'.
! Poor, tired soul! and l never thought
how much she needed rest. | thought
as | set there, watchin her breath
p-goin' out last night, that mebbe we'd
make mistake of it all. We never
thought of it while we was a-worlSin'
and a-slsimpin' and a-savin'-tryin' to
make both ends meet and to lay up
somethin' for the children. But /
thought about it all last night when
only me and her was waitin' for the
last. She never had no pleasure. She
never took no holidays nor visited like
other wimmin. She raised the chill
dren and stopped pigs and MIXED cows
and churnea and cooked for harvest
hands. l never knowed nor thought
how she done it all till saw them poor,
crossed hands with little white posics
in 'em. Some 'un o. the neighbors put
'em there, and it kinder choled me
when looked. knowed she'd never
had no time for posies when she might
have smelled 'em. She didn't have
time for nothin' but the thorns, mister,
and-that's what hurts me-"
After moment he looked up through
his tears.
"Somc folks may low it won't do no
good, mister" and his voice grew
stronger; but I'm a-goin' to see that
she's put away in somethin' rich. We
wasn't slximpn' and savin' thirty year
for this, but I'm a-goin' to have the
best moneyn buy. She's earned it,
God knows; and she's earned somethin'
else-shes earned that white raiment
that the good book says is washed in
the blood of the Lamb"
The old mans voice sunk into that
reverend whisper so common to the God
fearing of his class at the utterance of
holy things, and in the silence which
followed he sunk into n reverie. He
was awakened from it only by the
stopping of the train at Van Buren,
street At the door of the car he shook
hands with his companion and a mo-
ment later was swallowed up in the
crowd.
1t was pitiful-all of it. And vet
there was passenger on that train who
is the better man for recalling it; the
better man for the recollection of the
old farmers look and gesture, and for
the thought that there are silver handles
to the coffin that holds his sacred dust,
lying out under dark mound amid the
barren brown OF an Illinois prairie,
He Wanted to Say Good-By,
During the reign of Frederick the
Great one of the singers of the Berlin
opera left clandestinely, in order to re-
turn to Italy. The king Immediately
gave orders to pursue her, and she was
arrested on the border. The poor sing.
or, under the guard of some hussars,
was obliged to return to Potsdam,
where she was conducted before the
king. As soon as he saw her he said