The Seattle post-intelligencer. [volume] (Seattle, Wash. Terr. [Wash.]) 1888-1914, 1900-03-11

~HE broad rays or the setting sun
~ fingered on the yellow buttes
~ turning to gold the brown bunch
~ grass and sagebrush on the river
- banks. The sky looked like some
rare rose and blue-tinted porcelain. The
air was still with mellow warmth, with
now and then hint OF a cool breeze from
the Columbias rushing tide
The great yellow peaches that hung
thick on the trees of ranch that stretch
ed along the east bank OF the river rival
ed the color OF oranges in the bright sun
rays.
In the yard, by the log barn, a weary,
gray-haired woman was milking g small
black .siwash" COW. Seems as though
he might get rested some time" She
sighed as she looked across the garden
patch to the house, where her husband
sat in his rocking chair, reading a paper.
under one Of the pine trees that they had
left in the yard for shade
Lorenzo Smithson was tall, angular
man of perhaps IS years, who was per-
petuaily resting--he called it--from what
labor no one but himself knew.
Mandy. his wife. devoted her time to
caring for him and trying to be farmer
and housekeeper at the same time.
She carried her trimming pain OF milk
to the house, strained II. and washed and
put the pail away. She measured out a
pan Of flour and started to set the
bread to raise for next day. when she
heard a sharp call OF Mandy Mandy.
you haven't shut the chicken house UP.
and there is a pesky coyote a running
away with the old yellow hen. Pears to
me you are mighty careless
Mandy ran out and shut the chickens
up. Lorenzo greeted her return with:
you ouehtnt to be so shiftless; that
hen was a-laying right along, and eggs
are Is cents a dozen down to Wenatchee:
besides 1t stirred me all up. an lost my
.'ace in the paper"
Mandy neekly reolie5 that she kind OF
forgot. She had MIXED the cow and got
the kindling. fed the calf and pigs, be-
sides washing the dishes since supper:
seemed like she wasn't so spry as she
used to be. well" Lorenzo answered,
you ought to take pattern after Wilder
Strongweler: she is hummer, now, I
tell you. Gets around lively, keeps two
men to work. besides a woman: no slack
doings there"
Mandy's tired blue eyes filled with tears
as she turned to enter the house to finish
her work. She thought OF the pretty
daughter who had bean such help ana
so much company year ago. But young
Faston had taken her, BRIDE to his
oanch up the Methow. and 'Ohi" thought
Mandy, that dreadful rough country!
WIN ever see Bessie again? Seems like
she Is a long way on"
MdDuy spent u TeSteSS night. The heat
seemed sitting. Next morning she felt
languid and had no appetite for the nice
breakfast she called Lorenzo to- She
plodded through her work, did her baking
and drove to the landing with n load OF
peaches for the boat to take down the
river to wenatchee.
1t was 10 O'Clock before she reached
home, and a strong wind was blowing the
white sand from the river shore, sending
it in clouds over everything. Mandy shook
and busted things to keep them neat for
Lorenzo. Yet he grumbed and said he
wished "she would be a little heater:
things was all dusty
Somehow her head ached; she was tired
at last, and after dinner laid down to rest
Before night she was in high fever. and
kept fretting because she could not see
to things for Lorenzo.
He wandered around the house liks n lost
child Everything went wrong. now that
Mandy was sick. A kind neighbor did all
she could for her. Yet In one short week
Mandy had gone TO rest.
When the funeral took place her friends
gathered to pay their last respects. They
spoke of her good heart and mild ways.
One woman whispered TO another that Il
was nothing In the world but hard work
that killed her. anyway She made per-
feet baby of that great Lorenzo Smithson.
awaiting on him so?'
The minister from tho lake had come