Atlanta semi-weekly journal. (Atlanta, Ga.) 1898-1920, 1919-12-23
THE STORY OF MARIAN SWAMI
~ NHIpG4/pE| Will

brought forth our first wild flowers
I'd been sitting on an DID, moss
covered log when I heard voices.
They came nearer, then stopped
Cautiously, [ peeped from behind
the Ieafy bushes and saw two men
prospecting" just like my own
daddy had done years ago. With a
steel pan they washed gravel from
The branch. And, I overheard ore
say, Look at that! I guess it's the
stuff, all right: [ guess we can
manage and buy it for a song. The
owners out west. Leave it to Bill"
They proceeded farther. down stream,
while 1 smiled 10 myself, glad 10
be next" to what was fixing to
come off On my premises. And. as
l proceeded to the house L. said to
myself, Leave it to Marion Swami"
[ thought it about time to take q
hand in things and to write to my
agent in Kansas, instructing him to
send me any correspondence that
might be sent out to him in re-
gard to my place. Also, I'd. LOOK
into matters regarding the Warren
cid homestead at once, before they
beat me TO it."
Fortunately, Clarke Warren passed
by, and stopped to see how every
cody was And again asked to
ride with him; this time to town.
For once he wasn't racing like
mad. For once, we really talked like
humans. And, incidentally, 1 learned
that he loved his old homestead very
much indeed, and it was a dream of
his to one day own the place for his
country home. He'd grow old, and
retire from active practice. But
that old codger who now owned If
would never sell it reasonable to
him. There'd been a sort of feud
between this man and Clarke's father.
The man, Mr.. Strong, had gotten the
upper hand and obtained mort
gage. Clarke's father died. His
mother, frail and slight of figure.
had three children to care for. One
was stricken with fever and died.
Ihen, his mother died. There. was
heavy debts and the mortgage. and
he was only a young boy and the
remaining sister was quite Young
Their home had to go. There were
no relatives in this part Of the world.
6ut many miles, in a distant place.
an old friend of the family wrote
Tor the two children to come live
with him. 1t was either that or the
home.
This man educated. them. 1t was
Clarke's dream to become a physi
clan. He said it all came to him the
night his mother lay a corpse; she'd
d1ed from physicians carelessness
and neglect, he said.
That night he stood out doors be-
meath the stars, and. looking, up at
them registered his vows He'd be
a real doctor; he'd go when they sent
Tor him; poor or rich it mattered not!
But-he hadn't laid up any money
scarcely at all. He'd been paying
pack along to the man who. sent him
10 college. Even now he bought
DOCKS for study, because there was
SO much he needed and wanted to
know. Therefore, it was out of the
quest1on-llis buying his old home
back again.
1 listened while he talked on and
ON. lie drove slowly, lost in re-
membering the past.
Then, I looked far AWAY over the
fields. l know my eyes were dreamy.
Tor in my heart sprang that wild,
sweet hope. Maybe I smiled ever so
family. Maybe. l turned to meet
his wonderful eyes of deep gray
looking steadfastly into my own.
why do I tell you my troubles?
Somehow, I thought you'd under
stand. I don't usually mention these
things-in fact. you're the only wom-
an on earth except my sister who
knows-but forget it, he exclaimed.
u appreciate your confidence. But
won't ever forget. You're the most
wonderful man t" 1 checked my
self suddenly. I'm glad you told