The L'Anse sentinel. (L'Anse, L.S., Mich.) 18??-current, 1893-04-15
learning. vTwould be . fine thing
for the children, Margefy"

softcncd aud her voice more sympa-
thetic as she asked. show could we
get there. Sandy. we have no moneys"
They SEQ to that. too. Where .
man has land like ours. they give the
money and you slgn paper, promis-
| ing to let you have the money back
out OF the farm, il you do not pay up
every month on 1t. Not real mort
gage. You know" he explained. as
shadow crossed her face. I'D never
have that. only just a guarantee /
think Jenkins called it."
Next day the paper was signed.
Alexander Mcintosh CHS X mark).
and the family Immediately prepared
to start for Mr.. Jenkins paradise in
the West.
Despite Mr.. jenkins assurance,
Margery's heart misgave her as she
looked back at the deserted farm and
thought Of the years she had spent
there busy and happy. She had
worked hard, but labor had been
frightened by love. She was wo-
man of no education and knew moth
ing of the world. except as her life
had taught her in her primitive
country home. The new life was
full of terror to her and her heart
ached bitterly at the thought OF for
ever leaving the home she had so
well loved. Sandy and the children
however were delighted, and she
strove to hide her sorrow from them.
Hers was nature that could not
bear transplanting, and the flower
would never bloom in strange soil.
The journey was not success. 1t
was long and hard and no arrange
ment whatever had been made for
their comfort. Each day the mothers
strength failed, but she kept her
trouble hidden and devoted herself to
the children. who were .unaccustomed
to travelling and confinement, fretted
and fused great deal. Finally,
however they reached their destina-
ton, and despite the heavy rain, felt
cheered at the thought of rest
The sun set quite late one evening
on the wretched village of Fairview,
in Washington, making its wretched-
ness more than usually apparent. BY
low fence stood a man who had
once been strong and hearty, but
whose tall form now showed gaunt
and weak, and whose clothes would
be of little value even to rag-man.
His brow was dark and the muscles
of his face twitched as from strong
excitement. while his hands opened
and shut convulsively.
1t was Sandy Mcintosh, though one
would scarcely think it possible. AS
he stood there. he was reviewing his
life since the night they had landed
tired and weary in the heavy rain at
Fairview.
He would never forget the look of
tired despair in Margery's eyes, as
she entered the wretched two-roomed
hut they were to call home. 1t was
not even weather-proof and provided
poor shelter from the storm. Jen-
kins had explained that it was only
temporary. and the work of building
would begin in few days. But the
harm was done. The mother worn
and weary from the journey, caught
cold which rapidly developed into
decline, and jamie who had inherited
her weak constitution, suffered in
like manner.
that followed, how work grew slack
and then stopped altogether, until
starvation stared them in the face.
He had spoken to Jenkins once in
his fierce indignation, demanding to
be sent home again, to be sneeringly
answered, that he had no home, for
the paper he signed had given the
farm to the company in default of
one monthly payment. and Mr.. Jen-
kins reminded him he had failed now
in three payments.
After that he had no ambition. He
became sullen, silently nursing his
wrath until it grew terrible in its
proportions, consuming his strength
and reason, though he made no out
ward sign. When Margery, worn out
with disease and disappointments, laid
down the heavy burdens of her life.
feeling of Indebtedness settled
over everything like pail, blotting
out for the time even his terrible re-
sentiment. But it burned more
tiercely afterward with deeper inten-
sity for every little grave that he dug
beside Margery's. One after another
they had succumbed to hunger and
cold. until none but Allan remained.
The bright smart lad, for whose bene-
fit principally the change had been
made. had always been his favorite,
but he lay silent and still now, on the
rags that had served him for a bed
and he was alone. He could still hear
the faltering tones Of the little fellow,
as he lay in his arms that afternoon
lit was awful-to be hungry daddy
but 1t has gone-now. l have-no
pain-only / am-so tired-and-
sleepy-gOodbye-daddy dear"
And heart and arms alike, held q
dreary sense OF emptiness.