The Big Stone Gap post. [volume] (Big Stone Gap, Wise County, Va.) 1892-1928, 1894-05-17
FROM CRY To COUNTRY.
Bow sonso lives l,aaa,d Oas of che Rush
g INFO gffass xaataDyya

FROM CRY TO COUNTRY.
Bow sonac lives lsaasrd oas OF che Rush
Into Stiae Meadows.
a young girtsitting before an:easel
in d tapcstry-hnng studio.s Through
the open window the samner sun is
throwing from his luminous palette a
Iatian glory Of rcti-gold on u slieeny
canvaso of chestnut hair.
S In the street below q wandering mu-
sician as he passes is singing with all
the wild pathos Of child of slavery:
Dey hunt no more for dc poAsum and tie coon,
On de meadow, de hill and dc shore.
Dey sting no more by degii:nmtr OF the moon,
! On dc bench by DC oil cabin dor.
Dc days 90 b. Hike ,shadow DER dc heart
Z Wild sorrow whore al was delight
,sron the little park across the way
set down in the midst Of the busy city
ikea lost bit Of The country, scent
of,sweetbricrs flows in and fills theroo
with q tide OF fragrance.
!. A ring at the door..a smile Of eager
expectancy. O white missivc tosse at
her feet followed closely by a yellow
envelope from the fat hands Of the
landlady, the flash of u blue coat
around the corner, then a blank of dull
misery.
Hours she sits there making no sign;
but when at last she rises and puts
awaythe palette and drops the curtain
over the never. to-be-finisi,.d picture
the face turned toward the dying sun
light is ghastly pale. the white lace at
her throat moves convulsively. and the
brown eyes arc like a hurt dogs.
Before her duiled vision. like CON
tinuous lightning. dances a waverins
line of fire Mother is dead. No one
to care for the children. Come. .
AS she moves about the darkenine
room her slirpcred feet unconsciously
losses aside torn bit Of cream paper
from which stare up the words. Don I
blame me too much"--'I have loved
you in''--"Yonrs cordially, Edwar''-
Far down the street. going home in
the twilight, the negro boy sweeps the
strings of his guitar aud tho refrain OF
his song floats back:
I'm coming I'm coming.
For my head is beading low:
hear tn 8 gentle voic S calling
until it is drowned in the roar of a
coming cable car.
And the tide offswectbricr flows wide
through the windows.
x*s
could we give me a bite to eat?'
The gruff voice startles the small,
cal;co-gowncd woman feeding chickens
by the barnyard, and she glances
around inquiringly.
sI'm awful hungry" the tramp be
gins, and stops, for the little. gray
haired, dark-faced woman before him
has grown suddenly pale, and as she
wipes her toil-hardencd hands free OF
meal he sees they are trembling.
That voice! She would know it ii
she were dead.
Eye needn't be scared O me; won't
hurt yc," he,growlcd, with hitch at
his tattered hat5riin. but I want to
know il / can get something to cat
here?''
'NWhy, yes, guess So" she says
slowly, looking into the blearcd eyes.
Come to the house and sit down on the
porch. I'll get you something in a
minute
And pulling up her sunbonnct, which
has fallen back over the smooth bands
Of gray hair, she walks by his side to
the house.
"Much obliged" mumbles the tramp
few minutes later, rising from the
little table with it's ernptied dishes; and
taking a cob pipe from a recess some
where in his rags he shutilcs down the
green lane.
Hurry up with dinner, Little Sis;
the hands are coming in from the field. y
calls stalwnrt young man from the
orchard well, where he is watering the
horses.
"What on earth are you dreaming
about?" he questioned at her elbow a
moment later.
''I was just thinking whore | would
put some sweetbrier bushes in the
yard" she replies quietly, with her
faded eyes fixed absently on the dust
gray road up which a dark figure is
slowly ploddinS.
The youth glances at his sister in
surprise. She has hated swcetbrier
ever since he can remember.
She goes in and begins putting din
ner on the table rs the hungry men
come in from the barn.-Chicago Trib-
unc.