The daily silver state. [volume] (Winnemucca, Nev.) 1903-1907, 1904-02-05
'che Bachelor Cousin

Mandy, he's coming again this year.
the same as before. About how many
years has Cousin Jim been coming to
stay the SUMMER"
Twenty. counting the last stop.
which was from May until November;
really, that makes twenty n a half
ye.urs your cousin Jim has visited us.
Tfe began early and stayed late the last
time, you know. What has Jim Fos-
dyke got to say this time, Silas?"
Same old thing, Mandy; same old
thing. Jim never changes his tune:
works on my feelings and tells how he
longs to visit the old hooks and corners
of the farm once more. Speaks in a
fetching sort of way about the old
swimming hole dow under the vii
lows; also grips me tighter than a burr
about the fishing place below the mill
dam, where he once yanked out a four
pound pike with a minnow nook. Jim's
got the same old gift of drawing folks
to him that he always had. Poor old
boy! he has not changed one bit since
he went to the city to build up a for
tune. He's cut out for a bach.ls - and
will always go 1t alone to the end. If
he was married n was going to bring
along a naughty wife and a lot Of fresh
and saucy children, I'd think different
about his coming here year after year.
The poo lonesome old boy clings to the
place, If he has got barrels Of money.
I 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: I will say this
about Cousin Jim-he never finds fault
with things; he never complains, warm
meals or cold; they're all the same to
Jim. He really seems to enjoy plain
fare the best, and always tells me not
to fuss with fancy dishes. He crawls
up the narrow stair to the little cham
Der without a murmur. Come rich old
bachelors who live most of the year IN
heightened hotels n fashionable
boarding houses would find lots of
fault. He don't: he's common like and
easy to please; just likes to tax off
his coat and loaf aroun1. Hugs on
the fence as If he was watchin' the
grass grow; loves to sit on the stoop
in the evening like any poor man lis
tening to the tree toads and frogs. 81
las, your cousin Jim has never risen
a peg above you If he has got barrels
| of money. Poor Jim! I saw that he
was ailing when he was here last time.
Perhaps that was the reaso why he
came so early and stayed SO late"
"I don't like to write and tell him
that crops look poor n that we are
a little pinched. and don't really care
for company this"
Don't you do it. Silas; don't you d.
it: why, that would be cruel and wrong
and 1t would break the poor old bache-
lor's 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 together.
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 b
| tickled to see him again. Tell him the
| appale tree limbs are humping up ag-
| ainst 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 churn-
ing was the best / ever turned out
since we got the new cows. Mention
a word about my raised biscuits. ard
say a little something about the bees
and the nice honey. 1t will come like
a breath from the old sweet home.
when Cousin John reads all that. He
will hardly be able to wait. poor boy!"
1t was the same old homecoming.
only Cousin Jim hunched over a little
more in the buggy as Silas drove from
the station through the shady lane OF
naples leading to the little farm u
esconced 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, faltered n
rubbed his chin before replying. When
Old Gray turned down the lane where
the robins were singing and the squir-
rels chippering, a trace or the OLD ltgnt
came back to the bachelors eyes. n
the faded, sunken cheeks giowed a wee
trife.
ISL he murmured. laying his thin
hand upon the others knee. let me
! drive Old Gray through the lane.
The lines hung Lstlessly from his
hands as the old mare slowly walked
along the familiar place toward the
house, where Mandy stood in the door
way with a glad smile of welcome ov-
e~rspreading her kindly face. Then,
when the horse halted at the block. he
said, handing over the lines:
II think 1 have been driving right
into heaven. ST."
why, Cousin Jim! I am so glad to
see you again. 1t seems so like old
times to see you and 81 driving home
! thronuh tho lanai And the good W0-