The Abbeville press and banner. [volume] (Abbeville, S.C.) 1869-1924, 1894-08-15
The Dead Wife.

| The hour set for the funeral nat
come. The hearse with its black
plumes stood at the farmhouse door
1t seemed strange and foreign thing
among the bright-colored hollyhocks
the commonplace sunshine, the low
ing of cows in the barnyard, and the
I chickens that moved about upon the
green lawn before the house. The
Jersey wagons of the neighboring
farmers filled the road, for the CARROTS
were much respected.
Mrs. Garrett, who had just died, wa
a. home body" and saw but little of
her neighbors, but her husband had
grown rich by great industry and
close saving, had pushed his children
on in the world.
John, his only son, had been to col
lege, and the girls toa boarding school
and they were so improved that they
seemed to belong to quite another class
from their mother.
They had stood with their father at
the coffin, to look for the last time ut
the woman who lay there.
"YOur mother was pretty woman
when she was young" the farmer had
said. 1t had startled him to see how
thin and withered her face was under
the white hair.
"Sarah's only fifty" he continued
"She hadn't ought to look so DID," ne
said. He had not thought of her looks
when she was alive.
There was certain sullen resent
ment under his grief. that she was
dead. How was he to do without her
She was master hand at cooking, and
butter-making, and laundry work, and
sewing. He had never thought to
ask her if she needed help. She had
never complained, and to complete heI
work she had risen at four, and had
gone to bed late at night. Things al
ways ran smoothly. She never spoke
of being i'll. 1t stunned him when
she took this cold. and sank under it
in two days. The doctor said that all
her strength was gone. "Sarah had
the strength of ten women" the hus-
band said. "Where had it gomez"
He was amazed and indignant. Was
this the justice of God, to take away q
woman so useful in the world? II
was not just!
Her daughters sobbed vehemently.
She had always been So tender She
did so much for them They did not,
it is true, feel we'll acquainted with her
since they grew up. But between
their music, and their studies, and
their young companions, and other so.
cial occupations their lives had been
filled They smoothed the folds OF
her merino gown, a little ashamed that
the neighbors should see that she had
no silk dress. She had insisted that
each of them should have silk gowns,
and had helped to make them.
Jack, her son, like his father, was
shocked to see how worn his mother
looked. He had talked for year or
two Of taking her for week to New
York. She had never seen a great
city. But he always had some engage
ment. He remembered now that she
had made enough in the dairy to keep
him in his spending money at college.
He wished he had contrived that little
holiday for her They all felt now
how good and unselfish she had been,
and how dear to them.
"Why should she be taken from us?''
the old man moaned, bitterly. ut is
cruel. Why has God done this
thing?"
And the dead woman lying there,
| her lips closed forever, could make no
answer, save that which toll had
stamped upon the thin, worn face, that
seemed pleading for rest.-Youth's
Companion.