Staunton vindicator. [volume] (Staunton, Va.) 1860-1896, 1896-06-26
WAITING FOR A FARM


their pipes Of peace and friendship, as
| was their wont.
It was a plain country inn, where
you could buy almost anything, but il
also showed signs of modern improve
ments, since the increase of population
and the times demanded it.
Steve Hall had inherited it from his
father, and, having come into possession
a year before, married the girl he loved
and settled down, which happy course
of action he was constantly urging upon
his old friend, Jim Randall
eff you love En- we'll enough to have
her, why don't you marry at once, in
stead of spending your best years in
counting and waiting?'' asked Steve of
his friend.
"Oh, I can't afford it!'' answered
Jim, STOPPING to knock the ashes from
his pipe. "Em's good girl and has
promised to have me; but l told her
she, or rather we. must wait until /
could see my way clear to support a
family"
''What did she say to that?'' inquired
Steve, with a curious expression on his
face.
'She said of course we couldn't ex-
pect to marry at once-you see, that
was five years ago-and she was will
ing to wait, but didn't want me to
think she cared for money. To be with
me poor would be happiness enough for
her, and so on. You know how girls al
ways talk under those circumstances -
eyes, and know Emma Willis al
ways means what she says. Jim, if you
had married her four years ago, you
would have been a rich man now"
ga rich man! How?''
"Well, to tell the truth, I see good
many signs of neglect about your farm
which know would never exist where
Emma Willis lived"
Jim colored at this intimation of his
Incidence, and answered stiff1y:
"Well, when it's all my own, I'll
take more pains with the old place, and
marry En- in the bargain.
''Don't wait for that, old boy. Do
both right away, and, my word for it,
you'll never be sorry
These words rang in Jim Randall S
ears as he walked back in the starlight
to the only home he had known since he
was boy
Here he had lived with his GRANDPA
ther and the old housekeeper ever since
first going to school, then assisting il
the care of the farm until the whole
charge gradually fell upon him. But he
never took much interest in tit was
too much like working for nothing.
"Wait until it is my own" he would
say to himself; "then you'll see some
thing worth looking at. For Jim was
his grandfather's expected heir, and
some day, not far off perhaps, these acres
would be in his possession. Then he
would bring his wife here and fxup the
old place and show folks what he could
do. But now he might as we'll take the
world easy and not work himself to
death for his board and clothes.
Thus he had always reasoned, until
tonight he began to wonder whether he
hadn't done wrong.
"Wife," said Steve Hall that night,
ST do believe Jim will live on and on
in the old place until the old man dies,
before he will better himself He has
fallen in this careless, indolent way OF
letting things go, until it wouldn't sur
prise me to hear that EN- herself slipped
away from him.
SIT is shame" rejoined Mrs. Hall
warmly, "'to let such sweet, pretty
girl as Emma Willis waste the best
years Of her life waiting for such man.
declare I'd marry somebody else just
in spite!'
''No, you wouldn't, my dear. But il
is too true that Jim doesn't seem to
know what he's waiting for. I can't see
that his prospects improve at all. -
''They may before long, for old Mr..
Randall has seemed unusually feeble
lately"
Even as he spoke, Jim Randall was
trying to rouse the old man from sleep
in the big chair, where be was surprised
to find his grandfather at this late hour.
But in vain. No earthly power could
arouse the old farmer from the SLEEP
that had come upon him alone and un-
expectedly. So the news later spread
throughout the town, and a few days
later they laid him beside the compan-
ion of his youth, who had gone years
before
Then Jim Randall felt desolate
enough, and his only comfort was in
the thought that the farm was now his,
| and he could do as he pleased.
The relatives assembled after the fu-
neral to hear the will read, which
seemed mere matter of form to most
of them, as Jim's expectations were
shared by ALL
After several small requests the law
yer read the astounding passage:
In consequence of the apparent dis
Like of my grandson, James Randall, to
the pursuit Of agriculture, hereby give
and bequeath my farm, consisting of
25 acres, with the house and outbuild.
ings thereon, to my brother, William
Randall, and to my grandson, James
Randall, the sum of 81, 900, to be paid
one month after my decease. %
Everybody in the room sat stupefied
until the lawyer commenced rolling up
the parchment which had brought such
confusion in the camp. Then general
movement took place, and the less for
tunate legatees took their leave
William Randall came up to james,
anG taking him by the hand said:
This was entirely unexpected and
undeslted by me. 1 supposed and had
no other wish than that you would be-
the fortunste one.''
This was said in a broken voice, witt.
tears standing in the speakers eyes, fo,
he was plain. hardworking farmer,
and entirely overcome by his good for.
tune.
James grasped his hand, and said
hoarsely:
"You are welcome to it, Uncle Viii
liam. There is no one else Iwould rath.
Ell have it go to. I'll see you tomor:
row, :" turning hastily away.
When he was left alone, he covered
his face with his hands and groaned
Where were his prospects now? What
had become of all his fine plans for i'm