The Monticellonian., 1895-07-26
A WESTERN W0OING.
BY KATE M. CLEARY.

first Andulasia Stebbins had come ou'
 from Illinois to live with her mother
 and stepfather on the Nebraska prairie
 it was considered by the neighborine
 farmer folk quite proper, probable anc desirable that Ira Harris, whose half
 section joined that of her relatives
 should fall in love with her-which he
 pro@ga.G2s.l" o!@ga.2.. Aia..,. .z .r<... ,~...-.
 Ira was thirty, stout, stolid, loutish
 methodical. He was successful man | This is hardly to be explained of per
 son with the characteristics mentioned
 unless ope includes selfishness. To bt
 supremely selfish is so frequently to bt successful. At the time of their meet
 ing Andulasia was t,centy-seven. There are women of twenty-seven and wome1 of twenty-seoef, She was one of the
 latter, With her square figure, hel
 unequivoeal complexion, her dul
 brown hair, and her calculating eye, she looked her years. One would never excuse her mistakes on the ground ot immaturity. One could never condonC them on that of impulse Indeed, te attribute to her certain errors would
 be subtle fattery. She was not the kind of woman who is ordinarily sub jected to temptation.
 Harris, however, accepted her pro pinquity and her affection much as he accepted the drought or the price ot hogs. He was willing she should de cline the company of other men on his account. He reasoned that if her step father, old man Solveriny, were to clear off the mortgage on his place and die, and if the two sickly young Sol vcrinys died also, she would be wealthy In her own right, as wealth is estimated in the Philistine west. Consequently it might prove prudent proceeding to wait for Andulasia.
 So he waited.
 year after their acquaintance be- gan he gave her an inkling of his senti- ments. Her concurrence with his views was almost pathetic It was alert, reciprocal, conclusive Matri- mony at some indefinite date they might look forward to- Such an in- disere tion at the present time would be a tremendous mistake.
 ''0f course, lra,. she said, land s land. And if my stepfather and your mother-whois is mighty feeble, notice and the twins don't die there won't be any land for us worth mentioning, much less a-marryin' on.
 Nevertheless she felt as the years, two, three, four passed, that her ac- ceptance of his suggestion had been a trifie overemphatic and unconsidered. Fate, she could not in justice rall against. One of the twins succumbe to ivy poisoning. The other, a few months later. was run down by the train. Andulasia's stepfather went the way of the apoplectic, and Ira's mother, with utter disregard for the sensation she might have caused. slipped from life in the most meek genteel and unimpressive manner imaginable. Then there was only Ira on one farm, and Andulasia and her mother on the other. No apparent ob- stacle intervened. Still Ira dld not speak, and it was seven years since Andulasia had come from Illinois. He frequently visited her, helped her, and deferred to her He carried her but Fa them; when the circus was in the coun- ty seat, he drove her there; he took her into the side show where the fat woman was on exhibition: he bought her pink lemonade, and peanuts, and ho. candy made on the grounds He escorted her to the merry ygo-round at Mahaska and rode side by side with her on the spotted ponies. He drove her into town twice q week, They at tended prayer meeting together. They both professed religion at the revival. He bought eleven tickets for her crazy quilt raflle. He was in all things her constant and dependable cavalier. but he never once mentioned marriage never once.
 Ir this manner eight more years passed. She was forty-two. He was forty-fivc. He was stouter, more stolid. She had some wrinkles, gold filings in her teeth, a reputation for irascibil- ity also comfortable bank account
 The two continued to drive across the majestic prairies in all kinds of marvellous nights and days. But the prose of life had so eaten into their hearts they saw nothing of the beauty them, heard none of na- lures music. For them there was no charm in the blossoming miracle of dawn, the yellow sweep of the ripe corn, the translucence of the moon- light, the blue infnity of space, the gay vest, the fugitive radiance on the bluffs, the restless shiver of the cottonwoods, the ocean shadows of the wheat, the swiftness of the gopher, the snow of wild plum blooms by the creek, the rank and file of goldenrod fianking the dusty roads. And they never heard the pattering flight of the quail, nor the swallows swerving wing, nor the scurry of the rabbit, nor the murmur of the naples, nor the rustic of the sunhowers, nor the first crackle of the frost, nor the breaking of the ice, nor the gossip of the wild grass, never-never.
 Theirs were the years the majority of prairie people know. Always vague, uurestful, apprehensive, mate rial. Never gay, never educational. If hopeful, elated; if despairing, sullen; if contented, bovine. It is rather hard to be philosophical in a country the of which one day promise and leisure, and after the next hail CT windstorm express starva- tion
 One day Ira brought Andulasia let ter. It was from her mothers brother who lived in Iowa. He was dying. He wished to see her. She handed Ira the etter
 Shall I go?" she asked.