St. Tammany farmer. [volume] (Covington, La.) 1874-current, 1898-08-06

could touch her when it comes to LOCKS.
She seemed to enjoy bein' within SO
much that I coulGI't help kinder stand
in round and lookin' OH for awhile,
but then | hurried on back for had a
lot o. hoein' to lock after. We'll, sir, !
was the proudest man in the world
when 1 went back there for her that
night. Everybody crowded round,
even the old ladies', and told me what
pretty dancer Mary was. All the young
folks in the country was there. but
Mary was the populares' of'm all. They
wouldn't hear to cur drivin back then,
but made us both come right in to sup
per. didn't exactly calculate en- doin
this, but Mary looked like she wanted
to, so l did. They tried 10 make me
dance. but don't know how. 1t was the
openin' of new summer hotel, you
know. a young fellow that set next to
me at the table, and was mighty polite
in handin' me everything, said he was
gonter be there at the hotel for some
time, ard that we mus come round
often. OF course, / asked him to come
see us, too. He was pretty glib talker.
When we was leavin' and tellin every
body good-by and promisin' tc come
again soon, l heard lady from New
York say to an Jther one: Wouldn'
she be a queen with the right trainin'?
we got in the spring wagon and drove
home. and she was jes' all excitement
tellin' me what time they had that
day and, how / ought to learn to dance
II was beautiful right, and it made me
SO happy to know she was enjoyin her
self 80.
"Two days after some ladies drove
round in their carriages and asked he'
to go to the springs with m again. She
said No. but when she seen was anN
ious to have her go, she went with them
They drove back after supper, her and
the two ladies and a young man. and
they all told m. ought to a.ave been
there. That night she seemed kinder
| unresless. She talked heap bout tht
nice things they'd all said bout her al
| the springs, but mostly talked bout
| how nice it would be if we could go an
travel an go to New York an every
| where, an she said we ought to read
books an the like, an that lady there
said what she needed was cultivatin.
didn't like this, talkin' bout her like
she was a field to be plowed up. stead
Of a flower jes' to grow an bloom nat.
ural. an when told her this she jes
laughed and slapped her hands over my
mouth. She went to the springs righ'
regular for a time. then sh. wouldn'i
60 no more. Somebody sent her some
| books, four or five Of m. She com
| menced to read cne of IN cut loud to ms
| one night. Twas a nice story about
| some rich folks. some artists. and bow
they was lovin' each other. and tht
| things they wen. to. but while got t.
iikin' the pesky books after awhile.
| told her all the time that it was jes
stories, and that there wasn't no such
folks in Paris or New York or any
where else. Since she was teachin' me
lIb1eSdssse OCT sssa. Il look 70 ate.scSin
her, tellin' her what thought bout ths
| books. told her tha: life was reality
| and that even II there was snch people
they wasn't no better off than us. cause
there's advantages an disadvantage.
everywhere, an 1t all mounts to bout
| the same, an everything in its place is
the best. That's the way I'd write il
| wrote books.
Maybe ii was readin' in them dnrr
books bout the fashion an the wealthy
or maybe il was them people at ths
springs put foolish notions in her head
or maybe il was jes' cause she come te
know she was too good an pretty for a
mar like me, but anyhow she com
| menst to pine an droop like flower
that's wi;herin'. I'd beg her to go te
the springs an enjoy herself like she
was invited to do, but it warnt no use
She wouldn't do it. Ar;er bout week
Of this thing that same lady from New
York drove up 20 our gate and asked
Mary to come in and pay visit to her al
the springs. She wanted her to stay rs
long as she would. and then Mary did
| agree to go and stay week, maxim the
condition that was to come to see hel
every day. It's lonesome time I had
| then. l didn't 60 to see her but three
days. and every day it seem 10 me was
| UNIV elcomer than before, so / thought
| better not go no more and let the chile
| enjoy her visit. II look to me like the
harder l try TO please her the more
things would 20 wrong. Wimmin folks
is curious little things, stranger, and a
awkward fellow like me don't know jes
| how to handle 'em. I had done mort
gagged my farm again an went in town
| and brought her silks and dresses and
gloves jes' the right size. and when she
see IN she jes' cried an said was toe
good to her. Then l got her a piano
but nothin' would suit. This was befo
| she went for the last time to the springs
| The things is all at home now. but
| never wants to see them again, an il
God spares me l never will. There's
nothin' else 10 say now, but that lef
cause I couldn't stan the sympathy and
| the talkir' of the neighbors after l got
this letter"
Here he paused and took from the
inside pocket of his corduroy coat q
square envelope addressed in round
girlish hand. The faint odor of violet.
sachet which had once permeated the
| pages could still be detected, though
| mingled somewhat with the aroma OF
tobacco. 1t read:
Il hope that you will understand and for.
| give me, Jack, although 1 know that God
| never will. I was never happy with you
and 1 never was able to make you happy
A noble, unselfish man like you deserve:
better wife. When you get this will b.
far away. Don't try to find me. for yor
| never can. MARY"
After the correspondent ha.! read and
returned the letter, both men were
silent. They watched the little knots oi
officers and privates talking together
under the shade trees, the squads of un
uniformed recruits crossing the
grounds to their various commands. the
amateur cooks preparing the midday
meal, and all of the lazy restlcssness OF
camp life. The Hancock volunteer wa.
the first to speak. "What posters ms
most in the letter." he said in a voice
tremulous with suppressed emotion, Il:
| that she saws shat she knows that Cor