Republican news item. [volume] (Laport, Pa.) 1896-19??, 1898-09-22
"A DQel ii The Cold Fields. !
They had been friends all their

They had been friends all their
Gves.
There had been, in their native viii
lage, two vine-covered cottages side
by side, and all one summer on the
veranda of one or the other of these
little homes two young women had sat
sewing through the long afternoon on
dainty white garments, setting each
stitch with prayer and weaving with
the flying needle more precious things
than cross-stitch and feather edge,
as they talked of their babies future,
as loving women will, and planned
great things for the coming ones to
accomplish.
Then these mothers conferred to-
gether about the momentous question
of shortening" and, this decided,
the baby boys had each become ac-
qusinted with the restless pink play
fellows at the edge of his petticoat at
the Identical moment. The women
bore each other company during the
trying period of the little ones teeth
ing, their Group and measles, and, in
due time, cut from one pattern their
first short trousers, their little coats.
When the boys were six, they were
ready for the September term of
school, and the two mothers led
them up to begin the second chapter,
as they had done the first, together.
Red-mittened and tippeted in winter,
they played with their sleds on the
long hill on whose top the schoolhouse
stood, and one day little girl watched
them as they flew down, and began
crying.
The two boys trudged up to her
together.
"You can ride on my sled," said
one.
'I'll pull you up again on my sled, F"
said the other.
And so the story began.
The years went by, and Charles
Paxton and Sidney Harper fulfilled
their promises. Nellie Ransom rode
Oh both sleds; and the boys were her
chivalric defenders and champions In
in every cause. If she failed in her
arithmetic the teacher received black
looks, and if she cried over her gram
mar each boy felt q l ersonal encoun-
ter with Lindley Murray was all that
could wipe out the stain. SO far
the old friendship was as strong as
ever, and they fought, as one, the
battles of the yellow haired girl There
came the swift, strange transforma-
tion or the heart which makes boy
= rlan; these lads turned, on one day,
shy, troubled eyes each to the other
Il ell
something from within had risen to
veil forever their frank and friendly
glances.
They were rivals; and the pretty,
shallow little thing, pouting now,
under Der wide brimmed hat, had
known it all along
Nell Ransom was the beauty of the
neighborhood; little creature, soft
nyed and golden haired, with youth
full curves and dimples. She was the
daughter of farmer; one of half
Iozen girls, but the only one among
lhem with any pretensions to good
looks. So the rough old man spoiled
her.
"When I'm plowin'," he said, in
}eply to some one who reproached him
for treating Nell better than he treat
ed her sisters, 81 run right through
the bouncin betties an smartweed,
but vanny eff I can run over a wild
rose. That little gal of mine want
meant for common folks like us. 1 feel
! good deal like 'pologizin' to her fur
bein' her father. But, seein' she's
ours, I'm goin' to make life jest as
Dasy as [ can fur her, an kinder keep
her on the warm side of the shack"
So the little girl was sheltered and
oetted by the rude but tender hands,
and it is not strange that she grew up
with no care for any one but her own
pleasure and comfort. When she was
16 there were many moths singed by
the brig -4tness of her hair; many
hearts wounded by the darts from her
blue eyes; but she didn't realize that
there was any harm. Hers was not a
pad or cruel heart-she simply
Didn't, and wouldn't and couldn't know
why,
And did not understand.
The two friends whose hearts had
been pushed apart by her little, un-
feeling hands had grown to love her
just in proportion to the way they had
,ome to hate one another. Charles
Paxton tried first; was refused and
went away; no one knew whittier, but
woman grew gray as she sat on the
little, vine covered veranda and turned
her eyes, with their waiting and lis
tening look, westward.
Then Sidney Harper put his fate to
the touch; he, too, left the village, and
two women again sat together praying
and fearing on one of the porches
through long summer.
1t was midsummer in the Klondike,
but the air was as chill as it is when
redcheeked Canadians start journey
ing on onow-shoes over crisp fields OF