The L'Anse sentinel. (L'Anse, L.S., Mich.) 18??-current, 1897-11-27

! ag IN he thought, as his obseryant eve
noticed that no smoke curled 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 it as the over
worked beast groaned. AS he turned
MIN In the little woods pasture to "rus-
tie scant supper in the brush he
gave him few gentle pats in lieu of
some more substantial expression of
good will. The donkey burst into n
tired bray, whose mournful cadence
struck dire foreboding 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 wo 9
alert, and, as she caught the sound ~
his football, the groans and muttered
suffering to which she gave vent was
alarming.
Long stopped, listened. hesitated.
then stepped into the doorway.
Lu, am afraid you have had an
other bad evening"" and there was tom
derness in his voice. is there some
thing can do for you before / 90 to
the cows?" 4
oh, me, I'll burn up! 1t seems I'd
give my soul for cool drink. This
dry Ridge will run me distracted 7
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 thng-cabin and all
fer well of good water. If youM
take me where | can get all the water1
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.
! know I'll burn up-what on top side of
earth can be keepn' them kids? Pears
like they know when I'm taken worse
an stay jest TO worry me. Henry, do
hurry and get the work done"
"Now. Lu, don't you let it fret you. :
said Long, conciliatingly, as if he felt
! guilty, and must say something TO APP
pease a just wrath; well do the best
we can. You'll soon feel better, now
that it is growing cool. I'll have one
of the boys go down to Stuarts 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 prayer offered
! for rain. and the house could not ac-
commodate the large crowd that had
! gathered. \ few came 10 scott, some
I ont of curiosity, large number anN-
iously hoping that the preachers pray
er would be answered. The subject of
! the discourse was faith, and TN preach
er's forcibe arguments and apt illustra-
tons made a deep impression on the
| congregation. When they kneeled to
pray many feryent petition rose from
hopeful hearts.
The day at Sullivans was n pleasant
one. Longs dread thar his wife might
drift on to pool water and tobacco and
! spoil the visit for him abated as the
! afternoon wore away, and there took its
place feeling that some wonderful
change had come over her. In his
! heart he sincerely wished that il 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
| hN pothesis was natural, for it had
wrought wonderfully upon himself. lie
| 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 lie had made up his mind TO
! rive up tobacco. He was going To ask
the Lord 70 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
| il. 1t would be hard trial and he
would have spared her-the sacrifice
| should all be his. She had also sus-
picon of his intentions and watched
| Him narrowly as they drove along to
, see if he took his accustomed quid. 1t
gave her remorseful little twinge as
She thought of her browbeating, sharp
words and ingrattude. She was forced
To admit to herself that he was KIND,
self-sacrificing husband and, although
not a good manager, had done the best
he could. She now repented her harsh
| nass nj his show ofreformatiQn.