The progressive farmer. [volume] (Winston, N.C.) 1886-1904, 1896-09-08

ana WlCn DoaGlng n0arG n Crem Ollng
fingers, broke the seal and drew forth
the letter. Eagerly she read:
'IsLAND HOME.
Aug. 10, 189-.
DEAREST ROSE:
Forgive me for my apparent neg igence in de-
laying so long to write to you; ard believe me
when l say that it is through LO fault of mine
that have lot written sooner, but owing en-
tirely TO Circumstances over which l had no
control. Father died shortly after Icame home.
The shock, l Tear, has forever destroyed my Sis
ters reaS n. She was taken a month ago to the
asylum for the insane at R. Her cOndi-
ton at present remains the same. Since then
| have been sick-very sick-but am now much
better, But not a day-nOt an hOur-since we
my R2se-my swe t wild RCse-the ono that
L love SO well, so d6vOutly so everlasting and
eternally. o Roae-My Rose! how | long to
be with you once again; Just as soon as L can
straighten up my fathers affairs shall come to
yOu-my R9se. In fact, ere this letter reaches
you shall be on my way. How sweet the
thought that soon We shall meet again-thIs
time to- part no more. Until then, Rose-my
Yours till death.
HUGH CARAVAN"
Not once, but again and again Rose
read the letter from beginning to end.
No longer did she doubt his love for
her-no! how could she after the words
she had read. With a happiness fill
ing her soul and lending it's light to
her beautiful! eyes-a happines suCn as
no pan can depict or describe, sac fol
ded the letter and placed it in her DO
som, next her throbbing heart. Going
to the window she seated herself on the
low, broad sill, and g8zed out upon the
soft, moon-lit night. The cry Of the
whip 0 will continues to come at inter
walls from over the way, and it's voice,
now no longer sad, seems to whisper
Oh! so sweetly: "Ho is coming! He Is
comingI' Yes, he's coming-he is
coming! Soon he will be with me, and
then we will part no more-how sweet
the thought! The hours slip by, as
though on wings. Still she sits by the
window, repeating softly to herself:
He is coming he is cOming-yes, he's
coming" Time wore on and finallg
she fell asleep, and slept increasingly
until aroused in the m3rning by some
one knocking at her door. Half awake
she sprang to her feet.
Is shat you, Hugh2" she asked.
mo, it faint Hugh; its me
"Ah! Yos"-rubbing her eys-'its
you, is it, Aunt H8nnah2"
And who else do'yer speck it ter be
at dis our Oh de mornin' eff it faint
me?"
We'll, what do you want2" RISE
asked, opening the door.
Oars a letter for'yr dat a fellow
fotch here awhile ago."
VINO was he2"
Dunno; neber seed i'm afore. He
tole me ter gin it to you at once an
rid away"
Wondering what it could be and
from whom it could have come, Rose
went to the window, and opening the
dirty envelope, drew forth a single
sheet of paper, upon which, in almost
illegible characters we're scrawled the
the following words:
MISS ROSE
Your father is dying-was thrown from his
horse near here. He calls for you. Don't, de-
Law a moment if you wish to sec HIM alive.
Come at LCe 10 Stony Point.
DICK REDMOND.
r }se read the letter twice through.
Her face was as pale as death. She
tottered for a moment and would have
fallen had-she not grasped the window
frame for support. By a mighty effort
she mastered the agitation that had
all but overcome her and q from the
room to the stable. AS she passed
through the hall she picked up an old
sombrero belonging to her father and
put it upon her head. In less time
than it takes to tell it, she saddled and
bridled her pony, and mounting him
dashed away.
Stony Point was six or eight miles
distant from her home; but in less time
than an hour she was there. Here she
found awaiting her a man that she had
no recollection of ever having seen be
fore. Looking about her and seeing
no one else, she asked:
Where is father?'
90 yer at Redmond's, was the reply.
But Mr.. r edmond wrote me that |
would fad him here" she sad.
80 he did, Miss, but they've moved
Deafness CanlUb De GUEcu
~ local applications as they cannot reach the