LITERATURE.

Globe, Volume XXIII, Issue 225, 28 June 1881, Page 4

LITERATURE.

JO LIN'S WIFE. | Whatever posseasod brother 7ohn to go up to the city and marry that little yellowhair3d, blue eyed bit of a school girl, when ho could have jmt had his pick cf girl i nearer home, was something 1 never could underßtaid. There w-:a Lida Bandscombe, just dead in love v ith him, as anybody eju'n see, ad the bread-maker In the whole country, besides taking prizes at the fctate Fair for pickles and jellies, and ever bo much better looking, too, than Myra. No yellow bangs over her eytn; she jmfc combed her hair back off her f ce, and did it up in a hard knot that staid. Bhe sont John a birth day cake, and knit him a comforter, and every body thought it would be a match, but John aaid he diln't lik« her eyes; they were handsome eyes to my idea, and could look you through, they were that clear and bright; but did you ever know a Mn to take advice ? ' Marry that ferret,' said John, * and never have any peace of my life ; well, I guess not! ' and with that off he goes to town and telegraphs baok, 'expeot me,and my wife.' Dear ! such a sh"ck as it gave me, and our spring cleaning not done, and the minister coming to board with us while his wife went home on a visit—it was a trial, you may be sure 1 And when she did come, it was more like having a wax doll in the way than anything else, with her big wondering oyes, and childish ways and silly questions, and hanging on John's arm, and leaning over John's chair, with two little insignificant feet In the rung at the back, and her olothes ! Suoh fallals, just like a doll's rigging, and I just not my foot down that if she was to Jive with ns. she must conform to our ways. I hadn't been forty years in this world for nothing. If she winted to wear fine white lacea and rnfilad aprons, she had to wash and iron them herßelf. I wouldn't be her slave. And such silly questions aa she asked, they juat made me sick 1 * Were there any dear little yellow chloka ?' Dear little yellow ohlcka, Indeed! they were dear enough beforo we raised them and got their heads off, and had them ready for market, and If that silly child didn't sit down and cry bacsuae they were killed ; said Bhe had named evory one of them and watohei them grow up. And she our John's wife, bah! Then she did the silliest thing of all ; went and bought a book called 'What I Know About Farming,' and usol to sit out under a tree studying it by the hour, and one tight when she went down to the bars to meet John I heard her auk : * John I why don't you get a washing machine, and a wringer, and save your own flash and blood ? Look at the blister! on my hands!' And the next thing it was the talk of the neighborhood that we Elliots, who had set our facea againat modern improvements, had given out beforo that little pale-faced tiling, and not only got a wringer and washer in onr kitchen, but several hundred dollars' worth of farm machinery at work. John said he could afford it, bat I apoke my mind and told her what I thought of It after he weni out to hla work, She looked kind of frightened, and pretended she waa going to cry, and then she spoke up quick like and •aid : 'Sister Janet, it's a triumph of mind over matter. You can wash now. and not be all tired out, and alck and nervous, and —and—John can afford It.' Perhaps if I had known that she had paid for it all, and it hadn't cost John a cent, I might have been more forgiving, but I just straightened np and aaid ! ' Mrs Elliot, you may go on and rain your husband with your boarding-school ideas, but as forme, I'll never touch the things. I can work, thank goodness, while I've got my health. I wasn't brought up in idleness.' Bhe never tnok it to heart a bit; the next thing I knew aho was at a little parlor organ ■he had, singing and playing as if that was all there wai in life. And that silly old minister—men never do have a bit of sense, but yon expect more of a preacher of the gospel—but he just sat and talked to her as if she waa a companion for him, and they walked about the field?, and staid down where Juhn was working, and all around 'em souls a perishing for want of the bread of life; suoh a sinful waste of time I n9Ver saw ! ' Janet, do you lovo the hills ? ' Bhe asked one day whan I was scoarlng the knives outside the door. She had offered to do them for me, but law, her white hands were not fit for anything bo useful. ' Love the hilla ! Well, I'd like to know what there ia to love about them ; I guess if you climbed them a spell, you wouldn't love 'em much. They're so high and grand she aaid, looking' up at them; ' they seem so near tho cool, far-off Heaven I I lovo to olimb to the top and drink in the sweet, fresh air ; it does me good hero—here. * She laid her hand on her heart, and stood looking off with a strange expression on her face, and I thought maybe she waa homesick, and told her to go in and cut some carpet raga and sew 'em together, and, would you believe it, ahe up and refused. * No!' ahe aaid, ' I cannot cut any carpet rags. I hate them.' I never aaw her so excited before. ' A fine temper you have,' waa all the answer I made her, bat I naver felt so Insulted in all my life. For a week or two I didn't Bee much of her ; ahe was either ont with John ' sketching,' aa she called It, dabbling away at some bita of pasteboard with a load pencil, or up in her room, where I never went. She came down, singing away, with a large package in her hand, and soon John came up with the Jioniea, and they drove off to town together, aughirjg like two children. I hope none of the neigbbonra noticed them. Anyway they never saw bim conduct himself in that way with me. When they came home sbe was all tired out, and they had a big roll of stuff they dumped down in the entry. ' It's something for you, Janet,' ahe said, laughing hysterical-like. ' It'a carpetraga.' I unrolled it, and there were twenty yards of bright Ingrain carpet! 'Myr»,' said I, ' thia is wicked extravagance,' for 1 knew her money was all paid ont. 'But it Isn't,' she said, laughing; 'I earned it myself by drawing and painting those bit) of sketches, I sold them all, and cm sell all I can do. That was my way of cutting carpet rags.' Well, we put the carpet down, and it did look pretty—thongh I didn't sav so. It isn't nay way to spoil anybody with flittery, and I saw John's wife was getting the upper hand too_ fast. The neighbors were beginning to notice her, and that foolish old minister, when his wife came back, had been over there ; and she led the si aging in church, and pretended aho had got religion, and all the time aho never scrubbed a floor, or waahed a dish, or put her hand to the churn.

■ John can afford to keap hired help,'ahe aaid to me one day, ' and I'm not very strong, and my mother died of consumption.' Then she began to cry like a baby, and John came iu and locked at me aa if it was my doing. I must Bay she could succeed in doing all aorta of naeleaa things— raising flowers in every nook and corner, making pets of all the animals, and painting, or playing on the organ. She waa leal ornamental, and I suppose some folks thought she was pretty. John did for one. I d"n't know that *he made me much work, either. Hie did her own washing as long as John would let her, and kept hor room neat enough, thongh it was mostly littered up with flowers and birds and her sketches, and at first she sung from morning till night, and aho did have a real lovely voice, I'll allow that but after awhile she didn't sing, and didn't talk much, and then John began taking her meals up to her. r Xhe first time I saw him getting a tray ready, I said : * It's a good thing you were brought np to be handy, John, sating jou'vogot an invalid wife.' He didn't say anything then, but a few days after he came to me and said : ' Janet, get a girl as soon as you can, and let Aunt Betsy come over and stay with Myra ; aha is nervous and low-spirited, and needs company,' Well, I suppose you've gussed tho upshot of it all; a little daughter was born to John, and it seemed to mo that a miracle was worked in tho house. Pdxhaps I had never really loved John's wife—she was bo different in her wayßfrcm me—but when I heard that baby cry I felt thrilled to my very boul,

and 1 juat threw my work apron over my head and cried for the firat time In years, Myra didn't get atrong, and the days wen' on and still Bhe didn't get up, and I felt ;.« if It waa my duty to go and tell her that Bhe mustn't favor herself that way, that alio couldn't lie a bed, and let atrangers take care of her child, and that shod never get strong till she got out, but I made up my mind to speak in a gentler sort of way. I had boen thinking it over, and about concluded to let Myra live her own way and i>ot try to miiko her over, especially since John seemed so well satiafied with her, and I went upstairs and opened the door softly and stepped inside. John waa standing at one window looking out at the aunret—it was all red and gold, and the room waa in a flame ; he turned aa I camo in, and the tears wen; rolling down hia cheeka, I never aaw John cry before sinoo he was a grown man ! ' What is it ? ' I whiapered, going up close 1 3 him. Bs made a motion with the back of his head towarda the bed. I went over there. Aunt Betsy was in a rocker by the side of it reading the Bible Myra was looking at tho sunset, then at her baby's sleeping face. I'm not dull 1 1 see things, and I Baw there what made my heart tarn cold—it waa the valley of the shadow of death! That all happened these years ago. There is a simple ruatio crosa up in the graveyard with ' Myra' carved on it, and little Myra and I go up there every Sunday and carry flowers to decorate it, and the dear child sits In my lap and puts her blessed little arms abont my neck and whlsperß,' Auntlo, talk about my mamma in heaven,' and I tell how patient and gentle she was, and how ahe anng and played, and how she shall do the very same thing some day—for I know now that flowers are aa neoesiary to God's creation aa the wood and grain, and the least little thing that makes sunshine In the world is of great value in the dark places, and I feel sure, when I look up to the hills ahe loved, that Myra has reached far off heaven before me. Perhaps—perhaps Bhe will intercede for me there.