The Winslow mail., 1898-07-30

We got IN the spring wagon and drove
home, and she was jes' all excitement
tellin' me what y time they had that
day and how ought 10 learn to dance
1t was a beautiful night, and it made me
SO happy to know she was enjoyin' her
self so.
1.-TWO days after some ladies drove
round in their carriages and asked her
to go to the springs with m again. She
said NO. but when she seen was anx
ious to have her go, she went with them.
They drove back after supper, her and
the two ladies' and young man, and
they all told me I ought to lave been
there That night she seemed kinder
unresless. She talked heap bout the
nice things they'd all said bout her at
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 q lady there
said what she needed was cuitivatin'. I
didn't like this, talkin' bout her like
she was a field to be plowed up, stead
of flower jes' to grow an bloom nat
j
laughed and slapped her hands over my
mouth. She went to the springs right
regular for time, then she wouldn't
go no more. Somebody sent her some
books, four or five of IN. She com
menced to read cne of 'm out loud to me
one night. Twas a nice story about
some rich folks, some artists, and how
they was lovin' each other, and the
things they went to, but while I got to
iillin' the pesky books after awhile, [
told her al 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
a-readin' out loud, took to teachin'
her, tellin' her what thought bout the
books. I told her that life was reality,
and that even if there was snch people,
they wasn't 20 better off than us. cause
there's advantages an disadvantages
everywhere, an it all mounts to bout
the same, an everything in its place is
the best. That's the way I'd write if
wrote books.
"Maybe it was readin' in them durn
books bout the fashion an the wealthy,
or maybe it was them people at the
springs put foolish notions in her head,
or maybe it was ies' cause she come to
know she was too good an pretty fer
mar like me, but anyhow she com
merst to pine an droop like a flower
that's witherin'. I'd beg her TO SO to
the springs an enjoy herself like she
was invited to do, but it warnt no use.
She wouldn't DO It, Arter bout week
Of this thing that same lady from New
York drove up to our gate and asked
Mary to come in and pay a visit to her at
the springs. She wanted her to stay as
long as she would, and then Mary did
agree to go and stay week, maxim the
condition that was to come to see her
every day. It's a lonesome time I had
then. I didn't go TO see her but three
days, and every day it seem 10 me was
unweicCmer than before, so [ thought
I better not go no more and let the chile
enjoy her visit. 1t look to rGe like the
harder l try to please her tie more
things would go wrong. Wimmin folks
is curious little things, stranger, and a
awkward fellow like me don't know jes'
how to handle 'em. L 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 m she ies' cried an said [ was too
good to her. Then [ got her 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 I
never wants to see them again, an if
God spares me / never will. There's
nothin' else 10 say now, but that lef'
cause couldn't stan the sympathy ard
the tall,ir' Of the nelghbors after got
this letter.
Here he paused and took from the
inside pocket of his corduroy coat a
square envelope addressed in round,
grlish 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:
'I hope that you will understand ard for
give me, Jack, although [ know that God
never will. I was never happy with you,
and never was able to make you happy.
noble unselfsh man like you deserves
a better wife. When you get this Will be
far away. Don't try to find me, for you
never can. MARY"
After the correspondent hal read and
returned the letter, both men were
silent. They watched the little knots of
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 cf the lazy restlcssness Of
camp life. The Hancock volunteer was
the first to speak. "What posters me
most in the letter." he said in a voice
tremulous with suppressed emotion, SIS
that she says that she knows that God
never viii forgive her, and sure God (if
there is any) shouldn't be mere unfor-
givin than one of His creatures. If
bleved prayers was ever answered, I'd
be prayin' for that little girl now, out
as It's the bes' thing can do is to go to
the front an fight for my country."-
St. Louis Globe-Demccrat,
SPANISH PROVERBS ON WOMEN