Ottumwa semi-weekly courier. [volume] (Ottumwa, Iowa) 1899-1903, 1900-07-24
: THE WOMAN WHO
COULD NOT DIE.

A Strange and Grewsome Tale
81: 81: By Count Leo Tolls

ed the dark skirt she wore, all but for
q narrow strip in the back, and the
scarf fastened crosswise over her
breast were dazzlingly white. On her
left arm she carried basket of home
made sweetmeats, in her hand stout
cane.
She shuffied along in the attitude Of
half open penknife, but approaching
the bench where l sat, raised herself a
little SO that could see her face. A
veritable network of wrinkles Hers,
said to myself, must have been a
long, laborious life, a life full Of cares
and disappointments if the lines by
which misfortune had marked her
countenance tell it's story.
"Sit down, little mother" / said,
making room for her.
Thanks, my lord. If I may lean
against the fence bit, will be all
right again. When an old thing like
/ sits down and gets up, there is al
ways shooting pain in ones back"
''Then, how old may you be, little
mother?"
Eighty and more years-don't know
for certain. But it's all in the books
at the village parsonage where was
born"
"1'hen you are not Moscow wom-
amp
"Oh, dear, no; I am Ekatrina, from
Wadowice. One of my daughters mar
ried q Moscow lad, Peter, who works
In the nail factory. When I. felt death
approaching, ! went to live with them,
thinking my last hours would pass
pleasanter in the society of those I
love. Ones relatives, if they are not
too hard hearted. will at least place a
handful Of straw under the tired head
when it's all over so the soul may de-
part easier from what has been its sin
full abode"
"And are the children good to you?"
How could they be otherwise? An
old woman, unable to escape misfor-
tune, must be content anywhere. But
things are not exactly going as /
hoped"
whats wrong, then"
death disappointed me. I came
here to die, you know, yet am living,
living, living all the time. Look at me,
my lord. Would you suspect that there
is more than spark left in me? Gods
wrath! seem to have more lives than
cat. Had it all planned out to nice
ty; wasn't going to give them any trou-
bic whatever. After the police had
been duly notified of my arrival that
was to be the end Of it, reckoned. Ny
son-in-law went to the factory as usu-
al, my daughter busted herself about
{ the house. while sat in corner by
the Preside to work over the down
feathers had collected the past year.
My sole ambition was to cure enough
for bed, the Inheritance I meant to
leave behind. And all the time I MUIR
INJURED prayers one after the other and
then began anew. Death, which l
thought so near, should find me well
employed.
Il waited month, another, third
who didn't come was death. run
cold when think Of it." And Ekatri-
ma trembled as she leaned on her cane.
Zone Sunday in the fourth month
the janitor came up. Peter he said.
you must get permit Of residence for
the little mother. That's the law
My son became frightened. Does it
cost much? he asked when he found
his tongue again.
About rubles quarter
"Then my son got down his tobacco
pouch and gave Its contents to the jan
itor, who forthwith withdrew just as
If there were no police in the world.
When he was gone, said: Sonny,
don't you trouble about permit Of res
idence for me. 1 came here to die, not
to live. True, am still breathing, but
ready to collapse any minute
- "And my daughter said: That's
right. Why spend any money on her?
II she doesn't die today, it's tomorrow
or next day. She says so herself, and
dying people don't lie.'
you see, my lord" continued the
old woman, 1--WE all agreed on this dy-
ing business and felt quite satisfied
that it would come off in good season.
But now that death has disappointed
! us don't think, my lord, that 1 was
shamming at any time. Even then, at
the very beginning Of my martyrdom,
II may call it SO without disrespect
to the good saints-even then I was
6uhject at intervals to such agonized
feelings of oppression and helpless
ness that every bone in me contracted,
and 1t became black before my eyes
just as if they were filed with SCOT.
Again I had such fearful pains in my
{ spine that I couldn't have raised my
face to heaven for silver ruble. But,
my lord, VEL beg your pardon thou
sand times; mean we common people
are such sinners and know nothing
about dying, absolutely nothing. A
second quarter passed by, and was
still sitting on the stove bench. a pitt
able monument Of miscaIculation.
II couldn't understand 1t. Is it pos
eible, I said to myself, that the Lord
Jesus has forgotten to call me when
my days are up?
"One evening, just as Peter returned
from work, the janitor walked in rude
ly. What in thunder is the matter
with the old uoypop2, bo ha11oryad