The representative. [volume] (St. Paul, Minn.) 1893-1901, 1899-12-14
MRS. BRANDON'S
DISAPPOINTMENTS

Mr.. Brandon was dead and lay in his
long, narrow coffin dressed in his Sunday
Clothes He had never spent much on
clothes, and the shabby greenish- black coat,
with its worn cloth buttons and frayed
binding, spoke mutely of a long life of self
denial which would have been pathetic if
it had not been useless. His socks were
neatly darned. and his shirt-a white one
had been laundered SO often that it had
turned a y%ellowish-w white like the dead
mans face. But these things had never
troubled him much while he lived, and they
certainly did not trouble him now as he
lay between the two windows of the front
room, with his big toll hardened hands fold
ed in unnatural placidity on his heart, and
his thick sandy hair just beginning to be
brindled with gray parted neatly above his
furrowed brow.
Only the woman sitting by his side noted
them will a choking sensation in her ach-
ing heart, and was glad that he would not
need a hat for his last journey, as she re-
membered the dingy old felt one, which
still hung in it's accustomed place in the
hall. No amount of brushing or cleaning
could have made it presentable.
The soft breeze stole through the open
window, stirring the rusty folds of her
JAIN AdW II Co.'S, duu lA1tlu6 luc udIk HALT
from her pale brow. Out on this gallery
some men were sitting. chewing tobacco,
as they. talked in the low, suppressed tones
which we use in the house of death, and
in the kitchen two or three women were
making coffee. One of them came in and
offered her a cup, but she shook her head.
1t seemed a part of the vague unreality of
things for her to be sitting thus like a
stranger in her own home, while other wom-
en- handled her best china and dipped reck-
lessly into her coffee and sugar; she did
not care. They whispered to each other
that she did not cry or take on much,
and remembered as they slipped their coffee
and furtively examined her safes and
china closet, that they had never seemed
very fond of each other.
He had been excitable and visionary-a
hard working man, but one who always lost
more than he gained by his labor. He had
always some new scheme, which always
failed and left him poorer than before.
And in politics and religion it had been the
had never stuck to one thing long,
but changed his views and opinions as often
as a chameleon does it's colors.
Hes like a batty-cake,'' said an old
farmer once, when a politician had an
nounced that Jim Brandon was on his side.
~ Z PuC yOul III HILL. ne 3 like ~
batty-cake, l say. Never done until he's
turned"
He had never been very popular; he had
a quick, overbearing way and a confidence
in himself in spite of his many failures,
which was not conciliatory; but his wife |
had never grown impatient with him,
her faith must have been shaken |
years ago. Always gentle and acquiescent. !
never asking for either praise or love, she
had lived by his side; e~c0nOmizing when his
farming prospects failed; smiling when they |
succeeded-which was not so often-and
manlike, at times he had wearied
of her unfailing meekness and would have !
liked her better if she had sometimes on
posed her will to his. But she never had. |
and now he was gone, and the farm was
hers to manage as she liked. No one ex-
pected her to grieve much. Some who dis
liked him were whispering that she was
better off, but she had taken it even more
quietly than they expected. Some of them
remembered how bitterly she had grived
ong ago when they had carried her week
Did baby out in it's little coffin.
Mrs. Brandon remembered too. and she
never looked at a half-grown girl without
pang OF regret. The baby would have
'een 10 nova pretty half-grown girl
ust beginning to lengthen her skirts, who
would have brought sunshine into the old
lone and stirred the stagnant waters of
he mothers life. Some one to sit and
ak and sew with-who would have SYM
with her when the bread was sour.
II the butter wouldn't come, or the COWS
,ot in her flowers, or Mr.. Brandon was
ross. Some one who would have rejoiced
when things went well, ana who would have
owed her. She had wanted her daughter |
IL those Is years; but the baby had died
'efore she had ever known her mothers
ace or cared for her love.
8 b is such a little thing they had