The Ely miner. [volume] (Ely, Minn.) 1895-1986, 1898-05-04

| eler nerSel1.
| AS the train pulled out, with the
trembling Miss Marg'ret holding her
breath in the seat where the solicitous
porter had deposited her beneath her
bundles, the poor lady's eyes caught
last fleeing glimpse of the old house
on the hill, up the slope from the sta
ton; there was an indistinct blur of
the messy old stone walls through the
lace-like trees and the purple clouds of
lilac blooms and in the very foreground
rose view of poor Toms rough, red
| face, drawn in a tangle of knots and
wrinkles which reminded Miss Marg'ret
of the day that her father, the old doc
tor, was carried out to the hillside
graveyard, to sleep among the friends
whom he had known since Towertown
had first welcomed him 60 years be-
FORE Miss Marg'ret craned her arch
ing throat for glimpse of the ceme-
tery-when it all at once dawned upon
her that she had left that place miles
behind by this time, and that her train
was already speeding through scenes
| she had not seen since her father had
taken her to the city on that one mem
orabe visit to the great outside world,
| Just after her mother had died. But
the most unreasonable thing that had
come over poor Miss Marg'ret's fond
| old heart was the memory of boy who
had, 20 years before, set out from this
same Towertown on just such spring
morning, over this self-same road. He,
too, was going to the city. But he never
came back and perhaps that was why
there never was much springtime in
Miss Marg'ret's heart after that, no
matter how bravely the trees budded
and the lilacs waved their fragrant
plumes.
When she was finally tucked safely
in Edwards home, only three hours
later, with the big Edward smiling in
diligently, the little Edward munching
the seed cakes she had brought him,
| Lollie's pretty white hands making the
| most tempting tea, and, best of all,
| the rosy little namesake doubling her
| fists right in the very face of her ador-
| ing old auntie, poor Miss Marg'ret won
| dered why she had dreaded it all. But
| that night, when Lollie had finally
tucked her gleefully in bed, almost as
early as the jewellers of the nursery.
| Miss Marg'ret could remember only
one thing distinctly of all the doings of
the wonderful day. And that one thing
| was a mere name which had stood out
| before her surprised eyes as they had
passed the mouth of the river on the
| way home from the station. She had
| not had time to do more than be GER
| tain that she was not mistaken in the
long, black letters across the spotless
white of the vessels hull, for the cab
was lodging in the most reckless way
among the wagons and other cabs
about the railway depot. Besides, Ed
ward was talking away in terrific
| fashion about the wife and babies wait
| ing at home to welcome her. So she
| hadn't said word about it to anyone,
but as she folded her thin white hands
in restful gratitude after so much wor-
riment and confusion she could think
| of nothing but those long, black let
ters, spelling out her own name: "The
Margaret L. Bradshaw"
Lollie took Marg'ret to see the city's
long drives next day; excursions to
art galleries, long hours in the COR
geous shops and the wonderful offices
left the visitor little time to think much
of the strangely-named boat. But some
way, when the second night came and
Lollie again tucked her into bed, tired
but happy, her thoughts flew again to
! the long, black letters on the snowy
| boat.
| At the end of the first week Miss
| Marg'ret was more and more convinced
| that it was matter that needed inves-
| tigation, but one which she herself must
puzzle out, without aid from anyone
else. The first day of the second week
dawned rainy and damp, so much colder
and more dreary than soft summer
rain in the country that Miss Marg'ret
refused to venture out on the shopping
tour which Lollie insisted on. So the
young wife went alone, with a prom
Use to go back for lunch, and Miss
Marg'ret set her thin lips with a de-
| termination that might have been
dreadful if there had not been tremu-
ious fear in her dear, gentle chin. Still,
the maid was amazed to see her ap-
pear in the lower hall few minutes
| later, with an order that cab be called.
The maid hesitated, but hers it was to
obey, and in a little while Miss Marg'ret,
with her skirts carefully tucked up and
her best gray shawl crossed over her
knees, was being jolted down the river
where the X. Y. & q. trains come in"
The driver had in his lifetime received
much less definite directions than these
and in an incredibly short time, be-
fore the timid passenger had begun
to get her courage up to the sticking
point, they drew up before the office of
a local steamship company. There was
no doubt that this was the right place,
for just across the street was the long
smoky tunnel of railway station.
And, to settle the question, there in the