Cottonwood report. [volume] (Cottonwood, Idaho) 1893-1901, 1896-01-31
Story Of Womans Love. SuF-
fering and Death
THE LETTER ON IT'S TRAVELS
a Romance of the Composing Room.
The Foreman Reads 1t to the
Dying Wanderer.

S' AZ 9iHipie anu tOucnlng words
the tale of two lives. says the Butte
Miner.
Like in all newspaper offices, there is
a pox in the composing room of the
Miner into which Is put the mail for
the men who work in that department
or the mail of any one who may wish
TO have 1t directed there The box ia
never empty and often the accumulation
is torn into tatters by the frequent
handling 1T receives from printers who
are ION the road" and who are con-
stantly coming and going, for there
always has been and probably always
Will be a class of printers nomadic in
nature. 1t is here today and some-
where else tomorrow, but wander as
they may they always keep in COM
munication with some of their former
associates. A letter addressed to one
of those wanderers may often travel
thousands of miles in criss-cross way
before 1t finds the man to whom 1t
belongs. Often it finds it's way into a
box where it remains for months, the
man for whom it is intended having
failed to forward his address; or he
may be on the road to the place where
the letter is awaiting him.
Last August letter directed in a
feminine hand found it's way into the
box in the Miner composing room. The
postmark it bore showed it to have
been mailed at Petaluma, Cal. After
remaining here several weeks an order
was received to forward it to Denver,
the owner having changed his mind
about coming to this city. Before 1t
could reach him he had shifted
his abiding place and it was sent to
Tombstone, then to Tuxton, San An
tonic, New Orleans, Memphis, Little
Rock, st. Louis, Springfield, ILL.,, and
finally found it's way into the box of
one of the large Chicago offices. The
many erasures and postmarks 1t bore
caused the letter to excite more than
the usual amount of comment. In the
course of several weeks the letter be-
came the subject of talk in all the COM
posing rooms of the city, because no.
body had ever heard of the man to
whom it was addressed. Finally the
foreman said he would send it back to
Petaluma, saying it was from woman
and she ought to know that it had failed
to reach the man to whom it was
sent. One of the printers persuaded
him to keep 1t longer, saying the man
would call for it some day, as he had
known such letters to be claimed after
they had been in the box for year and
even longer.
September, October and November
came and passed and December had al
most gone when one day tired, wan
and sickly looking man walked into the
room and showed the foreman his work
ing card. There was nothing, however
oP tI,a two, IN, Sc.
Still the wear and tear of travel, and
his eyes and complexion showed that
the fatigue with which he was suffering
was of the kind of which there is no rest
on this side of the grave. He asked for
a drink of water and slipped it slowly.
1t revived him slightly and then he
asked If there was any mail for him.
The foreman remembered the torn
and dirty letter and the feminine Chi
Biography of the superscription and fair
ly flew to the box and got it, for at last
the owner of 1t had called AS the
foreman handed the stranger the letter
he remarked that it had Travelled some.
The stranger replied that he, too. had
been travelling to get it. His hands
trembled so from weakness and excite
ment that he could not open the letter
and asked the foreman to open 1t for
him. The foreman opened one end of
the envelope and took out the letter.
The stranger said he was very tired
and asked the foreman If he would do
him the favor to open the folds and
read.
The request was complied with and
as the foreman unfolded the letter three
new 800 bills fell to the floor. He
picked them up and handed them to
the stranger, who took them carelessly
and put them into his pocket. The
foreman read the letter. 1t was indeed
from woman and showed a woman's
devotion and constancy to the man she
loved. 1t was in simple language, but
more beautiful by far than the most
radiant picture ever penned by poet
or author.
Dear Jim: I hope that this will find
you and that it will do you good.
wish l could have gone with you, but
we couldn't both go, and I can die here
where it won't cost anything. / have
worked hard for this, but it will never
do me any good. 1 saved 1t for you,
Jim, because 1 knew long time before
you would admit it that you had that
disease which kills, and which is drag
ging me down.
81 thought, Jim, this would do you
more good toward the last than when
you were here, and when you went
away, as the doctor said you had to do,
was on the point of giving it to you
then, but 1 knew you had some and I
thought would send it to you later.
wish could say that hope you are bet
ter. But 1 know it is not so. If could
have had my own way, Jim, l would
have liked to have died with your arms
about me, but, Jim, a woman is nobody
without a man, and 1 didn't want to
stay here alone. I know it will be all
over with me, Jim, when you get this.
If you live till Christmas. Jim, come
back, won't you, if you can, and come
out to the cemetery, where we spent
the last Sunday you were here, and sit
down, just a little while, by my grave,
and tell me, Jim, what you told me last
Christmas. Maybe won't hear it, but
1 think / will know.
"Jim, Good-by. Here's the money to
come, if you are able. / know it won't
be a happy Christmas to you. and I
won't wish it. God bless you, Jim. Is
the last prayer of your MARY" :
The word Mary was the last thu
stranger heard in this world When
the foreman read it the tired spirit Of