The Topeka state journal. [volume] (Topeka, Kansas) 1892-1980, 1895-11-09


his second visit there and he had tried |
one of them before. His experience led |
him this time to refuse the proTered |
hospitality of his former landlord.
Il guess I'll try the other house." he |
told him.
''All right" said landlord No. /, shut |
that fellow'll starve you to death sure"
Landlord No. l was no liar whatever
else he might have been and as Mr.. !
Wheeler emerged from the fasting room
of landlord No. haggard and worn, to !
pay his bill he said:
"The proprietor of the other hotel told
me this morning that you would starve
me TO death aud l guess he was right"
He did, did he?" snorted landlord No.
2. "Nait till catch him."
A short time ago MIR. Wheeler re-
ceived a letter from landlord No. l. 1t
was startling in its hrevity and pathetic
III its supplication.
For Gods sake,'' ran the letter
''write to - and tell him 1 didn't say
it. He's after me with gun. 1 write
this in the attic"
Mr.. Wheeler's heart was touched. so
he wrote to landlord No. , and said,
''-- said it, aud he told the truth"
"Now let them fight it OUT" he added
to himself with husky, fendish
chuckle, as he mailed the letter.
In the last few days MIR. Wheeler
found that he had some important bust
ness to transact that would take him
back to Bucklin for few hours He
semi his partner and is watching the
&wo young men met on Kansas avenue
We day.
How are the folks at home. Jim?" one
asked.
"Oh. they're well enough. I guess"
said Jim, but there was q sudden some
thing in his speech as he said it, and the
questioner thought there were tears in
Jim's eyes as he turned away.
He guessed" What right had Jim to
guess? Why didn't he know? Had the
folks at home refused to tell him how,
or had Jim been negligent about ask
ing.
The latter was the truth, of course,
and it was that remembrance of his cru
city, premeditated without doubt, that
brought the red and white to his cheek
and the moisture to his eyes at his
friends sudden question.
II had been three months since jim
had written home. IN his pocket rested
soiled with wear, two letters from his
mother which he had not answered. Two
letters full Of longing love and care and
sorrow at his silence
Jim had loved his mother once. He
loved her yet perhaps, but the cares of
town life, with its glamour Of useless,
fitting friendships, its designations ana
its struggles, had made him careless of
her.
In the little country home, perhaps,
she is waiting, waiting alone for letter
from Jim and for death. Her life is
almost run. Her usefulness is over ina
worldly way and there is little left her
now but tne spirit aud the glory of her
mother love that Jim in his seltishness
has treated so very shamefully.
His last letter, written weeks-to her,
years ago-lies ever at her hand. There
are torn places in its creases. which have
been worn there by much folding and IN
folding, worn by reading. worn by her
love, for it has been her only literature of
late.
Jim is in the city, and is doing we'll
OF that much she is sure, for she hears of
him at times, through friends that meet
him, but that knowledge counts for SO
little with her, as she sits day after DAY
waiting for the written evidence from
Jim himself.
And yet, poor little mother, tears sell
dom dim her eyes, for she feels in her
mothers heart of hearts that Jim is too
busy, in his faithfulness to his employer,
to write to her. An, what joy there should
be that she can not see that Jim is busy
in another way.
'I'll write to her tonight; long letter
full of affection that shall pay her for
these weeks of waiting" said Jim as he
left his friend astonished at his sudden
going; and he did.
But Jim himself was the first to read
that letter. He was called home the fol-
lowing day and he opened it with his
own hands as he stood beside his mothers
grave and wept with keenest grief at his
cruelty and called that hour the turning
point in his laundering life.
How much better this world would be
if young men could but keep before
them always this little story of true
| occurrence and the picture of their
mothers love:
Write home. my boy; you don't know how the
mother heart is aching.
This cruel silence seems to her almost to be
forsakng.
Did she forget or fail you when your baby steps
she steadied?
Support hers now. they're faltering beneath
the care she's wedned.
Smooth back the gray about those wrinkled
temples with a word;
Let her dear heart with often -prayed-for happi
'Twont cost you much; yet to her heart twill
Put just that Spark OF joy in the life so loneix
She's earned it.
Alone within the simple homo she sits and
| waits the pOStmaDS cry.
| The letter fails. and she but turns her faded
! face away to sigh.
And still her heart will always find for you
some morther-made excuse
Her boy would never be the one who'd so her
| mother love abuse.
| All. heed. my boy; she won't be long the pre-
cious friend you've always known.
You speak to thousands. but her going soon
! Will leave you all alone.
And when she's laid away beneath the blue
grass and the willow bough.
You'll wish you'd written oftener to her. my
| boy SO Go itnoW.
| She nee DIS it.
| Kansas Patents
Patents granted to citizens of Kansas
for the week ending November 3, 1895,
reported through the Office of J. F.
Bsale. solicitor of patents, 909 G street