The Indianapolis journal. [volume] (Indianapolis [Ind.]) 1867-1904, 1903-04-26

"And what with the sun, and this here
yeler sand ablowin' and ablowin' and
ablowin', it only needs fur the people TO
be what they air. TO make it just plain h.
1 won't say it, but you know what mean
What kind o. critters air they. anyway
.I think they must be Texas siftings,"
said the lady. grimly.
Its Good mornin', Mis- Briscoe, hows
your gardin? Got any hens asettinT but
they don't care pin whether you've got
as much as a mess o. greens. or whether
your hens ever set till Gabr'ers trump.
but they call IL bein' neighborly, and they
want to be that in case they may need TO
| use you sometime. But for one OF 'em
TO come set on the steps in the mornin'
with her broom and tell you all about what
she thinks and is adoin' and bein' interested
in what you're adoin'-'taint done"
Loves, hates, joys. tears-the pulse
| beat hard The loves were OF the dearest,
| the hates bitterer than death; the joys OF
youth knew no comparison, and when tears
flowed their source was the innermost soul.
| There were no idle tears. there was no
J empty indifference.
| I'm about cried out continued the
woman. "Cryin' don't seem to help no
| more, anyway, and 1 have to be so keer-
full not to let him know IL. Him and his
f, mother and brothers feel like it's great
/ things down here; couldn't git 'em to say
| Kentuckys anywhere TO IL. and they all
| think ii shows lack o female feelin's in
me when I've got them and my six chill
| dren here. to still have my heart set on
| Shelby. but my mammy's there and my
| sister," she added. half whispering,
$50 your in-laws are with your said the
lady.
Yes" returned the woman; don't you
| hate emf
] .I haven't any," the lady replied. 'but
| think / should be thankful even for in-laws
| If had to stay"
| "Oh, and you're goin' back!' sighed the
woman. But this country shows in your
| face your eyes air as holler as mine. My
| brother died of gallopin' consumption. and
some days, when can't get my mind on my
| work. and feel kind o. sick and mixed about
mother and Shelby, and all the home folks.
1 think maybe I've got IL, too. Wouldn't IL
| be awful to die down here?''
mot quite so awful as living down here"
said the lady.
"Oh, 1 dunno; at home folks air missed
when they die; here nobody even steps to
J the winder to see the hearse go past"
II know" said the lady; 81 know
! - Death came, drawing one and another
| away from the charmed life; but no one
there was to replace them. Each man was
individual-none could replace him. One
there might be to come and stand near, TO
perform his duties, to finish his work--with
unobtruslveness, with gentle reverence.
that, in spite of the empty chair, the old
| spirit might linger about the spot undis-
| turbed forever.
well, I'll be goin'," said the woman. IT
was so put to IL this mornn' that I told
Emmy. my girl. that I'd just got TO git out o
the house or go ravin' crazy. don't mind
tellin you, now she said simply, that
the album amt really fur sale. We wouldn't
part with 1t fur nothin; Emmy's beau sent
1t to her, and he's the first beau she ever
had. I put a big price. SOS no one would
take 1t. 1t was an excuse you know" she
finished. Ito git 70 talk to somebody q
little"
The lady nodded. and again they faced
each other. The lady put out her hand.
well, goodbye" said the woman. hold
ing it; II don't guess I'll ever see you
again. but I'm glad happened in here this
morning. you seem kind o. like home folks.
And If you ever anybody from Shelby.
tell em"-she turned away.
II WILL said the lady. huskiiy. 'T'n tell
them that you'll be home again, after
while"