Morgan County democrat. (Versailles, Mo.) 1900-1906, 1904-02-26
THE letter is from my grandson,
Innn Tanfia -

before it reached here"
ThcreupOn she extended the envel-
ope. The old woman became pale;
her limbs trcmbled and she said anx-
iOusiy:
Still, Marictte, it is from Jean. Who
else could write to me? | have moth
ing to expect from any one in the
world. But If he can no more write
his prandmother's nam and his viii
lage. he must be very sick-Sick, my
child, all that remains to me or earth.
Read quickly, Marietta, | beg
Both womcn stepped into the shoe
makers house and Mother Nanctte
sank exhausted on a chair. Now the
ncighbor who served as secretary for
the old woman who could neither read
nor write, dcciphcred, 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 NJ more.
But it was too hard. You don't know
how hard work is in PGris, always
steps up and steps down.
when the day is ended, one has
scarcely any more limbs, ana ones
head swims. would have done bet
ter to come home; there one has some
air.
II am writing all this to you to say
that | am sick. The doctor believes
It is Dv%cr-rXcrtiOn and inconsistencies.
All, yes. that Is il.
81 would have loved to see the village
and you, grandmother, again. And
upw II is perhaps Impossible.
"My master could not keep me. He
sent me Ia the hospital, and the head
physician. an old man who appears
right EOOd-hcartcd and wears a red
r~uscttn. shakes his head when he sees
mc-and he is never mistaken.
"rhcroforc, dear grandmother. | say
farewell to You. II is bad to have TO
die without your embrace, yet we arc
too poor for you TO cOmr. In this let
ter You may see that your child
thought Of you up to the last moment.
Your w loving grandson.
JEAN TANTGA.
"IIospital Of Charity, Paris"
The grandmother sat in her chair
immoyablc as if pctriHcd. She did not
cry. ono cannot cry when such deep
pain ~paIalyZos all the strength Of body
and soul.
Was II possible? Her grandson, her
Jean, all that remained Of her family.
all that she loved in the world, to die
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 whirlcd in her saddcncd
brain. But, suddenly she rose and ran
into her house like a wounded animal
that fees TO its hole.
In fcyerish haste, without clearly
knowing what she did, Mother Nancttc
had thrown the few pieces of silver
on the table; her entire means, kept
until now in a secret hiding place. Her
eyes rested m~OtiOnlcss 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
cxccratcd her poverty.
Many years ago the journey by rail
road from this village Of AuycrgGe to
Paris cost - francs. Thirty francs,
an unhcard OF sun for an old woman
who earned by spinning scarcely a
franc a week. Who're should She get
30 francs, the Immediate possession OF
which was now her only object in life?
Who in the town was generous
enough 10 loan hcr-thc poor spinner?
Thirty francs she must have, and she
would serve the givcr 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 t%resses, and
suddenly rose before her the joking
face Of her hair dealer.
II keep 200 francs to your order
think Of that"
Mother Nancttc rushed out. Only
stopping 10 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 tho
table and looked astOundcd when Tho
old woman entered.
'TWb bnnlral francs van luip la n