The Kootenai herald. [volume] (Kootenai, Idaho) 1891-1904, 1904-01-22
TIFF BACHELOR COUSIN.


Mm ANDY, he's coming again this
JNVl year the same as before About
how many years has Cousin
Jim been. coming here to stay the
summerT"-
Twenty, counting the last stop
which was from May until November;
really, that makes twenty and a half
times your cousin Jim has visited us.
He began early and stayed late the
last time. you know. What has Jim
Fosdyke got to say this time, Silas?"
Same old thing, Mandy; same old
thing. Jim never changes his tune;
works on my feelings and tells about
how he longs to visit the old hooks
and corners of the farm once more.
Speaks In fetching sort of way about
the old swimming hole down under
the willows; also grips me tighter than
a burr about the fishing place be-
low the mill dam, where he once
yanked out four-pound pike with
minnow hook. Jim's got the same old
gift Of drawing folks to him that he
always had. Poor old boy He has
not changed a bit since he went to
the city to build up a fortune. He's
cut out for a bachelor, and will al
ways go 1t alone to the end. If he
was married, and was going to bring
along naughty wife and a lot Of
fresh and saucy children I'd think diff
ferent about his coming here year
after year. The poor, lonesome, old
boy clings to the place If he has got
barrels of money; 1 can't say as he
throws his wealth around when he
does come"
only pays ordinary price for board,
that's all and no more. l will say
this about Cousin Jim-he never finds
any fault with things: he never COM
plains, warm meals or cold; they're
all the same to Jim. He really seems
to enjoy plain fare the best, and al
ways tells me not to fuss with fancy
dishes. He crawls up the narrow
stairs to the little chamber without
a murmur. Some rich old bachelors
who live most Of the year in high
toned hotels and fashionable boarding
L
don't; he's common like, and easy to
please; just likes to take off his coat
and loaf around; hangs on the fence
as though he was watching the grass
grow; loves to sit on the stoop in the
evening like any poor man listening
TO the tree toads and frogs. Silas,
your cousin Jim has never risen a
peg above you if he has got barrels
OF money. Poor jim! l saw he was
ailing when he was here the last time.
Perhaps that was the reason why he
came so early and stayed so late"
IL don't like to write and tell him
that crops look poor, and that we are
little pinched, and don't really care
for company this"
Don't you do 1t, Silas; don't you
do 1t. Why, that would be cruel and
wrong; and it would break the poor
old bachelors heart. You are the only
one he has got left of the old stock
in these parts; the rest are all gone to
the city. Silas, Cousin Jim just pines
for the sight of your face, and the old
place where you and he were boys to-
other. 1t Is like a heaven to him TO
get back here with you and the dear
old familiar things he loves so much.
Now you sit right down and tell him
we will be tickled to see him again.
Tell him the apple tree limbs are
humping up against the window Of the
little chamber; tell him the grass is
greener than ever, that the SNOWFALL
bush hangs heavy, and that the roses
were never so sweet You might tell
him that my last churning was the
best ever turned out since we got the
new cows. Mention word about my
raised biscuits and say a little some
thing about the bees and the nice
honey. 1t will come like a breath
from the old sweet home when poor
Cousin Jim reads all that He win
hardly be able to wait poor boyF'
1t was the same old homecoming.
only Cousin Jim hunched over little
more in the buggy as Silas drove from
the station through the shady lane of
naples leading to the little farmhouse
ensconced among the apple trees at
the further end.
During the short drive he said but
little; and when Silas asked him a
question he hesitated, falteredan rub
bed his chin before replying. When
Old Gray turned down the lane where
the robins were singing and the squir-
rels chlppering. a trace of the old
Light came back to the old bachelors