Capital journal. (Salem, Or.) 1893-1895, 1893-12-01


dreary loneliness.
There he toiled over his spiritless
sermons, trying out Of his meager.
barren life to find something that
might bring encouragement and com
fort to some struggling soul. When
the oil gave out in the little lamp
and the light grew dim, he would
close his books with a sigh and gath
er his papers together, and often as
the sound of music and laughter
foated upward from the parlor be.
low the lonely old man ON his knees
Spentth remainder of the evening.
and indeed much of the night in
agonized pleading for release, for
help. Tonight his only wish, his
one plea, was for death, and with
tears falling from his eyes he begged
piteously that his Father in heaven
would take him to himself.
Sleep, however, brought uncon
seriousness, and with the morning
came new desire to live. 1t came
for SO curiously does the trivial
mingle with the tragic in this check
cred life of ours-from an invitation
out to tea The invitation came from
Widow Bickford, one of his parish
toner's, rich and childless and as full
of whi1ns and oddities as a woman
can possibly be. Doubtless she had
summoned him to say that his dis
missal was richly deserved, reflected
the parson, but at all events he
should get good supper, and the
widows squash pies were famous.
Afternoon came, and Parson Wade
brushed his threadbare clothes, tied
and retied his rusty necktie with
stiff, eager fingers and smoothed his
thin locks with infinite pains. He
was trembling all over with delight,
this foolish old man, for it was many
a weary month since any one had in
vited him out to tea, and he was as
pleased as child at the prospect.
A little smile stole over the wrin.
kled face with it's sad linesand fur
rows of care, and Parson Wade de-
cided, in this new, intoxicating pleas
ure, to say nothing to his daughters
of the parish committees decision
until after his return from Widow
Bickford's tea. So off he started,
with something akin to briskness in
his gait, and his head quite erect, as
became a pastor invited out to tea by
a wealthy member of his flock.
All through the meal, at which the
parson was the only guest, the CHEEKY
little widow watched him narrowly
with her sharp little eyes, gossiping
gayly the while about this thing and
that. And the parson forgot his sor
rows, forgot his shabbiness, yes, for
got his daughters even, and laughed
his weak, quavering laugh, which no
one had heard for years, as he told
long anecdotes of bygone days.
The widow, it seems, had observed
the old man for many months with
mingled pity and Indignation and
had come to a somewhat startling de-
termination in her funny, whimsical
fashion. To be sure, she had been
beset by doubt or two, mainly in
connection with her husband, dead
some 20 years But she was not q
woman to hesitate long when she
saw her duty plainly, and these
doubts were therefore disposed Of
summaTlly.
"Ef the Lord wants me TO marry
the parson and take care Of him, why,
liz guess he'll take care of Hiram Bick-
lford's feelings and ] don't have no
need to trouble myself about Dem
And Hiram was always such sensi
BILE cIitterp'
| So the old lady, in her crisp black
silk gown and best lace cap, smiled
on. the shabby, sad old man, while
she helped him literally to the sweets
ON the table and finally said;
flames Wade, you'd orter be looked
out fur. and the Lord SEE fur me to
do it"
The amazed parson fairly gasped
| for an instant, but he had been ruled
all his life by womankind, 80 he
meekly murmured, "Yes'm."
"It's kinder lonely without a man
bout the place, and that Jake, he's
wuthless Mess there's man to see
ter him. You and ], parson, are old
enough to do without highfalutiD
talk bout love and sich, and 30, Isay,
the sooner we're married the better a"
The widow drew a sigh of relief as
she ended, TO think that now the
matter was all settled The parson
wiped his spectacles and said tear
fully, "God bless you.
A little later as they sat before the
blazing fireplace the parson faltered
out But what will the girls say"
"Say e responded the widow brisk
ly. why, lots o things. Never
saw 'em when they didn't. But we
won't tell 'em till IT'S all over with.
and then let 'em talkP
And so they were married 1t was
wonderful 10 see how soon Parson
Wade got accustomed 10 his hne
broadcloth and his life Of ease. Then.
too. he never realized that the affec'
tomato, almost obsequious manner
with which his daughters now treat
ed him was due TO the change IN his