The Sauk Centre herald. (Sauk Centre, Stearns County, Minn.) 1886-current, 1904-03-03

that the letter was sent different places
before it reached here"
Thereupon she extended the envel-
ope. The old woman became pale;
her limbs trembled and she said anx-
iously:
Still, Marietta, it is from Jean. Who
else could write to me? l have moth
ing to expect from any one in the
world. But if he can no more write
his grandmother's name and his vii
lage, he must be very sick-sick, my
child, all that remains to me on earth
Read quickly, Marietta. l beg"
Both women stepped into the shoe
makers house and Mother Nanette
sank exhausted on chair. Now the
neighbor who served as secretary for
the old woman who could neither read
nor write, deciphered, with pains, the
trembling letters, the short, loosely
arranged sentences of the letter, which
was as follows:
My Dear Old Grandmother: We
were too happy; it could not last long.
| had found a good place, would soon
have come back to you again and We
would have been separated no more.
But it was too hard. You don't know
how hard work is in Paris, always
steps up and steps down.
when the day is ended, one has
scarcely any more limbs, and ones
head swims. | would have done bet
ter to come home; there one has some
air.
q am writing all this to you to say
that / am sick. The doctor believes
it is over-exertion and inconsistencies.
All yes, that is it.
II would have loved to see the village
and you, grandmother, again. And
now it is perhaps impossible.
'My master could not keep me- He
sent me to the hospital, and the head
physician, an old man who appears
right good-hearted and wears a red
rosette, shakes his head when he sees
me-and he is never mistaken.
Therefore, dear grandmother. I say
farewell to you. 1t is bad to have to
die without your embrace, yet we are
too poor for you to come. In this let
ter you may see that your child
thought of you up to the last moment.
Your own loving grandson.
JEAN TANTIA.
Hospital of Charity, Paris"
The grandmother sat in her chair
immovable as if petrified. She did not
cry. One cannot cry when such deep
pain paralyzes all the strength of body
and soul.
Was it possible? Her grandson, her
Jean. all that remained of her family.
far from her in the great city? To die
in a hospital, without one kiss, one
last blessing? No, no; that was a
horrible dream.
She knew nothing more, and the
thoughts whirled in her saddened
brain. But, suddenly she rose and ran
into her house like wounded animal
that fees to it's hole.
In feverish haste, without clearly
knowing what she did, Mother Nanette
on the table; her entire means, kept
until now in a secret hiding place. Her
eyes rested motionless on these petty
savings.
She said to herself, with despair,
that it would not pay for the journey
to Paris. All, yes, she was poor, too
poor to embrace her dying child. And
for the first time, the diligent worker
execrated her poverty.
Many years ago the journey by rail-
road from this village of Auvergne to
Paris cost 80 francs. Thirty francs!
an unheard of sum for an old woman
who earned by spinning scarcely a
franc a week. Wh"re should she get
80 francs, the immediate possession of
which was now her only object in life?
Who in the town was generous
enough to loan her-the poor spinner?
Thirty francs she must have, and she
would serve the giver to the end of her
days.
The old woman pressed her worn
fingers upon her white forehead. for
her Jean lay dying, and the dying have
no time to wait. By this movement she
pressed the thick, snowy tresses and
suddenly rose before her the joking
face of her hair dealer.
81 keep 200 francs to your order
think of that"
Mother Nanette rushed out. Only
stopping to close the door, she ran
across the street. She felt no fatigue.
she knew only that her child. her Jean,
lay dying in a Paris hospital and she
must hasten to him at any cost.
Antoine Honlin was reading at the
table and looked astounded when the
old woman entered.
Two hundred francs. you said, is it
not true?' she cried, breathlessly.
Yes, yes" he replied quickly with
out rightly understanding.
With hasty movements the old wom-
an tore off her hood.
BE quick"
Honlin wished nothing better, for
he feared the old woman might change
her mind. Over the trembling Shout
ders fell the wonderful silver hair, the
precious ornament of her old age and
her former Dride