The Cape Girardeau Democrat. (Cape Girardeau, Mo.) 1876-1909, 1897-11-27

EOtictu Inat no smoke CURED from the
chimney, and missed the CLEAN of the
kitchen fire through the chinks. a
sigh escaped him, something hard came
into his throat, and his brow became
troubled. He gave the mule a dig in
the ribs, then regretted il as the over
worked beast groaned. AS he turned
him in the little woods pasture to rus
tie a scant supper in the brush he
gave him a few gentle pats in lieu of
some more substantial expression of
good will. The donkey burst into a
tired bray, whose mournful cadence
struck dire f~oreboding into Longs al
ready troubled bosom.
The cows were waiting at the bars,
and the children not having returned
from the fields where they had gone to
"chop cotton, he thought to steal in
after the milk vessels and not disturb
his wife. But that individuals ear was
alert, and. as she caught the sound of
his football, the groans and muttered
suffering to which she gave sent was
alarming.
Long stopped, listened. hesitated.
then stepped into the doorway.
"Lu, l am afraid you have had an
other bad evening"" and there was ten
derness in his voice. us there some
thing can do for you before 1 90 to
the cows?"
"Oh, me, I'll burn up! 1t seems I'd
! give my soul for a cool drink. This
/! dry Ridge will run me distracted. !
! am scorched with fever, but the
thought of that nasty pool water turns
: my stomach. l don't see why you
squatted on the old Ridge. anyhow.
I'd give the whole thing-cabin and all
fer a well of good water. If you'll
take me where l can get all the water l
can drink, I'll take in waShin' an board
you an the children; an you can go on
spendin' all you make fer tobacco. Oh.
l know I'll burn up-what on top side of
earth can be keepin' them kids? Pears
like they know when I'm taken worse
an stay jest 10 worry me. Henry, do
hurry and get the work done"
Now. Lu, don't you let it fret o Il
said Long, conciliaingI,, as if he felt
guilty, and must say something 10 APP
peaSe a just wrath; well do the best
we an. You'll soon feel better. now
that it is growing cool. I'll have one
of the boys go down to Stuart's after
some water when they come. Yes. an
if you are able. we'll go over to preach
ing Sunday, an spend the afternoon
with Sullivan; he has the best water in
the valley. you remember"
He did not wait for the chatting reply.
but FASTENED out in the night to the cow
pen.
The following Sunday was a bright
day, and the Longs drove over TO the
valley church. 1t had been noised
abroad that at the conclusion of the
sermon there would be n prayer offered
for rain, and the house could not ac-
commodate the large crowd that had
gathered. A few came TO scott. some
out of curiosity, a large number IN
iously hoping that the preachers pray
er would be answered. The subject of
the discourse was faith. and the preach
er's forcible arguments and apt illustra-
tons made a deep impression on the
congregation. When they kneeled to
pray many n fervent petition rose from
hopeful hearts.
The day at Sullivan's was a pleasant
one. Longs dread that his wife might
drift on to pool water and tobacco and
spoil the visit for him abated as the
afternoon wOr away, and there took its
place a feeling that some wonderful
change had come over her. In his
heart he sincerely wished that it might
be lasting, but long experience taught
him to take little comfort in the hope.
He could attribute the spell to nothing
but the sermon of the morning. This
h. pothesis was natural, for it had
wrought wonderfully upon himself. He
had taken tobacco but once during the
evening, and then when walking
through the fields with Sullivan. There
was a strong resolve forming in his
bosom. He had made up his mind to
give up tobacco. He was going to ask
the Lord 10 help him: if he only would.
In the cool of the evening the Longs
drove up the clayey road that wound
along the side of the Ridge toward their
home. \ bank of clouds that lay low
in the west turned TO blood and gold as
they reached the summit of the hill. y
hopeful sign. They rode in silence.
Each seemed to feel that something had
come over the other, and the result
was a passing reticence. Neither cared
that the other should know what was
passing in their minds, yet they each
had instinctively guessed it. Louise
Long had determined to quit her nag
cling and fretting, and her husband felt
it. 1t would be a hard trial and he
would have spared her-the sacrifice
should all be his. She had also a suS-
picion of his intentions and watched
him narrowly as they drove along to
see if he took his accustomed guild. 1t
gave her a remorseful little twinge as
she thought of her browbeating, sharp
words and ingratitude. She was forced
to admit to herself that he was a kind, |
self-sacrificing husband and, although
not a good manager, had done the best
he could. She nov repented her harsh
ness at his show of reformation.
1t was dark when the wagon ratified
up to the little cabin. An occasional
fash of lightning Illuminated the clouds