Wausau pilot. [volume] (Wausau, Wis.) 1896-1940, 1903-01-27

shall | put hery' but ere she could reply,
l said, "On grandmother's bed"
And there, among the soft pillows and
snowy linen, on which | had often look
ed with almost envious eyes, and which
n5w seemed so much to rest me. / was
laid OF the weary weeks which follow
ed, have only a confused recollection.
know that the room was darkened as
far as possible, and that before the win
dow at the foot of the bed, grandma's
black shawl was hung. one corner being
occasionally pinned back when more light
was needed. They sent to Spencer for
DR.. Lamb. who. together with DR.. Grit
fin, held a council over me, and said
that must die. saw mother when they
told her She turned pale as death, and
with a cry of anguish pressed her hand
upon her side; but she did not weep,
wondered at it then. and thought she
cared less than Lizzie, who sat at the
foot of the bed, sobbing so loudly that
the fever burned more fercely in my
veins, and the physician said it must not
be; she must leave the room, or keep
quiet.
1t was Monday, and a few hours af-
terward, as Sally was passing the door
grandma handed her my dirty. crumpled
sun bonnet, bidding her wash it and put
1t away. Sally,s voice trembled as she
replied, mo, no; leave it as it is; for
when she's gone, nothing win look so
much like her as that jammed bonnet
with its chewed-up strings"
A gush Of tears was grandma's only
answer; and after 1 got well, | found
the bonnet carefully rolled up in sheet
of clean white paper and laid away in
Sally's drawer. There were days and
nights of entire Inconsistencies. and
then with the vague feeling of one awak-
ening from a long, disturbed sleep. 1
awoke again TO life and reason. The
windows of my room were closed: but
without, l r-aad the patter of the Sep
TENDER rain, and the sound of the au-
tumnal wind as it swept past the house.
Gathered at my side were my father,
mother, brothers, sisters, grandmother;
and all, as my eyes rested upon their
faces, | thought, were paler anG more
careworn than when | last looked upon
them. Something, too, in their dress dis
turbed me; but, before | could speak, a
voice which | knew to be DIR. GritIin's,
said, "She is better; she will live"
The fourth day after the crisis l was
alone with Lizzie, whom, for a long time.
l importuned to give me a mirror that
| could see myself once more, Yielding
at length to my entreaties, she handed
me a small looking glass--a wedding gift
to my northumberland with the CON
selling remark that Il wouldn't ALWAYS
look so, awaited the result | am older
than l was then, but even now | cannot
repress a smile as bring before nv mind
the shorn head, the wasted face with
high cheek bones, and the big blue ewes.
IN which there was q look of crazy
SAL which met my view. With the an
cry exclamation, They'll hate me worse
than ever, I'm SO ugly" / dashed the
mirror upon the floor, breaking it in a
thousand pieces. lizzie knew what l
meant, and twining her arms about m,
neck, she said Don't, talk so, Rosa: we
love you dearly, and it almost killed MS
when we thought you couldn't live. You
know big men never cry, and pa the least
of all. Why, he didn't shed a tear
when lit"
Here she stopped suddenly, os if on a
forbidden subject; but soon resumina the
conversation, she continued: But the
day DR. Lamb was here and told us you
would die he was out under the cherry
tree by our play house, and when Carrie
asked him if you'd never play there any
more, he didn't answer, but turned bis
face toward the barn and cried so hard
and so loud that grandma came out and
pitied him. smoothing his hair just like
he was little boy. Brother Charlie, too,
lay right down on the grass, and said he'd
give everything he'd got if he'd never
called you bung-eyed,' nor made fun of
you, for he loved you best Of ALL Then
there was poor jamie kept calling for
'Yosa'
Here Lizzie broke down entirely say
ing, Il can't tell you any more; don't
ask me-"
Suddenly it occurred to me that | had
neither seen nor heard little Jamie, the
youngest of us all, the pet and darling of
our household. Rapidly my thoughts
traversed the past. Jamie was deady'
l did not need that Lizzie should tell me
so. l knew it was true and when the
first great Shock was over, | questioned
her of his DEATH how and when it oc-
Cured. 1t seems that L was at first taken
with scarlet fever, which soon assumed
another form, but not until it had com
municated itself to Jamie. who, after a
lew uuyS SuueTlllS, 4du uleu. 0du ever
been his favorite, and to the last he had
called for me to come: my grandmother,
with the superstition natural to her age,
constituting it into an omen that l was
soon to follow him.
Desolate and dreary seemed the house;
and when | was able to go from room
to room, oh. how my heart ached as
missed the prattle of our baby boy. Away
to the garnet. where no one could see it,
they had carrieS lis empty cradle; but
sought it out I'D as l thought of the
soft, brown curls l had so often seen
resting there, and would never see again.
sat down by it's side AID wept most
bitterly. The withered, yellow leaves of
autumn were falling upon his grave ere
| was able to visit it, and at its head
stood a simple stone, on which was in
scribed, Our jamie" As l leaned
against the cold marble, sud in fancy
saw by its side-wbat had well-nigh been
another mound. and another stone,
bearing upor it the nar1e of Rosa"
involuntarily shrGdercd; while from my
heart there ws2s ~. a silent thanksgiv-
ing that Col, in dis wise providence,
had ordered it otherwise.
From that sickness | date a more
healthful state of mind and feeling. and
though l still shrunk from any allusion
to my personal appearance, l never again
doubted the love of those who had mani
tested so much solicitude for me when
i'll. and who watched over me so tender
" during the period of my conyalescence,
which was long and wearisOme. for the
SHOWS of an early winter lay upon the
frozen ground ere | was well enough to
take my accustomed place in the cid
brown school house at the foot of the
long hill.
CHAPTER III.
Thanksgiving, How many reminis-
eences of the olden time does that word
call up. when sons and daughters, they
who had wandered far and wide, whose
locks, once brown and shining with the
sunlight of youth, now give tokens that
the autumnai frosts of life are falling
slowly upon them, return once more to