Year: 1875

mOtner was compelled TO SIT down ana
take him in her sheltering arms.


In half an hour or 50 he was ready
to sit down on the floor on a quilt, and
she left him long enough to carry three
or four pals of skinned milk to the
pigs-two pailsful at time, and she
went on the run. She always fed the
pigs; when she asked her husband
unce to carry the milk to the pen, on
bis way out to his work, be said, THAT
belongs to a womau's work a man
whose name is put up for commission.
er shouldn't be asked to slop the pigs
that's little too Steep"


1t was no trifling job to feed those
pigs; the pen had been made out of
some old house logs, and the opening
through which the pals had to be lift
ed before they could be emptied was
so high that it just came even with her
neck, was only wide enough to admit
the pail with the pail lying down.
Twice when she was dressed up clean
had the unsteadily poised pail tipped
back and poured the contents upon
her, from her neck down to hei little
feet, as by water spout.


Withal the little mother was quite
patient, and almost every day could
her unframed voice be heard, even
down to the lower field and the school.
house, singing: "a Charge to Keep
l have;" or "God Moves in Myster-
ious Way"


But before another year change
came. The strong, hard man, her
husband, was stricken down with ty-
phoid fever, and for long weary weeks
he lay balancing between life and
death. His recovery was very slow,
and his confinement irksome no pris-
on walls could have been gloomier
than were the home walls that held
him prisoner. Day after day the
patter Of his wife's patient little feet
fell upon his ear; he could hear them
up stairs and down, now here, now


there, her voice always kind and ten
der, her hand ever ready to minister
to her dear ones, her words full of con-
ISOLATION, and love, and cheer.


John Jones was not wholly unim-


pressible; slowly the scales fell from
his eyes, the light came, and he was


as one born into a higher and better


life. He drew his bony hands across


his ewes; often the sobs made him


catch his breath suspiciously, and he


marvelled much that he had walked


beside this little woman for fourteen


years and not known that he was


mated with an "angel unaware" His


voice grew softer, tenderer; his great


talony hands touched her forehead and


hair lovingly, as would a woman's-


touched her as though he was afraid


she would fade away white mist.


Weeks afterwards, when he was able


to ride out, the old whimsical buggy


that had done good service in the days


of his church-going parents, was made


comfortable by soft wooden blanket


and an armful of sweet smelling oat
straw. John didn't tell where he was


going, but he looked wise, and his
mouth had a perky look about the
corner that seemed to say: "Just let


me alone, know what I'm aboutl"
1t was evening when he came home.
He was still as wise as when he went
away. His cup of tea was waiting,
and his toast and the tender little pull.
let fried nice and Brown. He seemed
really happy-jolly. He trotted the
} baby on his foot that night, and he
called his wife Jenny" as in the days
J when he won her, and he let Johnny


play horse with his boots, and there
was such contented, rich-man ex-
preston in his face that his wife
, couldn't help wondering what had
made such a change in him.


The next morning the crazy old rig


was called out again, and the soft
blanket spread in it, and John Jones
took the lines in his emaciated hands


and drove off in the same direc-
, tion as he did the day before.


When he returned, he was accompa-


MED by broad shouldered, good look
ing German girl, whom he introduced
, to his wife as "our girl"
She looked with amazement upon
"our girl" and then stared at John.
He soon explained things to her sat
isfaction.


"The upshot O. the matter is, Jane,
that I've abused yon long enough the
Lord helpin' me, I'll never see you
make drudge O. yourself ag'in. It's
J a burnin' shame for any great lout
like me to expect frail little body like
, YOU to be a man an dog, an wife, an
} mother, an nigger, an me savin' an a
} hoardin' up mouey an means to leave
to the Lord knows who. | beg your
pardon, Jane; and now you'll tell
this girl, Barbara Groetz, how you
want things done, an let her take