The Saint Paul globe. (St. Paul, Minn.) 1896-1905, 1899-04-09
CLEANED BY A GIRL.

L like to make old ia shiOned calls upon
oldfashioned, commonplace people. FOR
find that often there is that In the ordi-
| nary lives about me which is grand. noble
and pure enough to seem living poem,
or an ideal realized. Yet, nothing is
rounded off and complete in life. Pic
lures of things as they are must be TAX
en- in bits and snatches. and 1 turn away
from them wondering, unsatisied, that
may read but page Of an interesting,
living story in whose outcome l have
keen interest. made all the keener be-
cause 1t must always be unsatisfied I
went to call the ether day upon woman
who lives alone with her piano, her
books and her memories of the past
L have not known her long time, but
since meeting her 1 have often wonder
ed what the story of her lonely life is.
She asked me if 1 would like to see her
photographs. and brought out d large
brown box. containing three or four doz-
en- pictures. After she had passed each
one to me, in prim old-maiish way, she
placed the pictures hack in the box with
the faces turned down, | fell to wonder
ing about those people whose pictures
looked at, some of them young, good
locking, happy, and others. whom all the
photographer earnest efforts could not
redeem from being hopelessly plain.
L
remember apart from the others, the
photograph of a young man leaning
against a marble pillar with an express
sion of mingled expectation and remon-
STRANGE, O. comedy face enough above
low spreading collar.
She did not say anything, as she hand
ed 1t to me, and after an awkward pause
she explained: "a friend of mine whom
[ knew when / was q girl"
| did not mean TO do AZ I did :,
moment later. but as she placed it back
in the box, my eye fell upon 1t, and there
l read, written in bold hand:
To Matilda from Charles, Oct. q, 1874
AS l snatched my eyes from the pic
ture, raised them straight into those of
the woman, and that instant realized that
L had caught glimpse of her holy of
holes. 1t needed not the expression in
her face and eyes to tell me So And
then, she put the photographs away, and
we talked of other things until 1 left her.
and went on my way, but the meagre life
picture l took with me.
1t was a bright warm day in early
spring, and l took a long walk out to a
city hospital to visit a sick friend. On
my way, l met so many happy people,
and their joyous faces infected me, so
that all the world seemed merry, and
all life pleasant.
While waiting in the Office at the hos
pital / found myself studying the face
of man to whom one of the physicians
was speaking. His light hair and beard,
bright blue eyes, and fair complexion
told me he was Swede l wondered
at the extreme pallor of his face, and
then l caught what the doctor was say
ing: You see, Olson. yours is peculiar
case; we have never before had one ike
1t. and l fear there Is no hope for q
cure
l left the office then. knowing that 1
had seen man receive his death SEN
tence. and I wondered who he was, and
how many there were who would mourn
for him, and how much of q story there
may be to this brief. tragic incident,
which fell under my notice, during a
moments waiting.
He was only a common lumberjack.
Every fall he went ''to the woods" up
among the tall pine trees, and with many
others of his kind helped to increase the
wealth of the lumber king. His was the
hard work, the suffering. the danger. the
coarse food, the rough camp; but also
the free air, vigorous health, keen ap-
petite, companionship, and all the beauty
OF the great wild woods. In the spring,
when the camp broke up he came down
with the other boys to the quiet little viii
LACE, and the two saloons In the place
did a wonderful business until every
lumberman had INDUCED in a protracted
spree.
Often the SOLDERING up came only
when the last nickel had been passed
over the bar, and the earnings Of the