10 
NORTH SHORE BREEZE 
A Man With A Will | Ouatrains 
By Margaret L. Rust (By J ‘pecan Torrey.) 
(Reprinted from Boston Post of Friday, Mar. 14, 1913.) 
(The Boston Post prints daily a 
short original story for which it of- 
fers six prizes: $10 for the first prize, 
$5 for second, and $2 for each of the 
other four. The first prize of $10 was 
awarded Mrs. W. C. Rust of Manches- 
ter, last week, and the story was 
printed in the Friday edition. We re- 
print the story in full—Eprror). 
“Yes,” said John Atherton, “I'll 
marry Maria. It was poor Jane’s wish 
before she passed away. Of course, 
my daughters won't like it, but what’s 
aman todo inhis lonely old age? 
They’re married and gone and I’m left 
all alone in the old home, without a 
soul to care for me. True I have old 
Jerry and he’s good company, but as 
we sit by the fireside in the winter 
nights, Jerry and me, we feel kind ’o 
lonesore, and I know Maria will say 
yes if I ask her—Hello, Jerry, who 
comes a-knocking this time o’ night?” 
“Gaod evening, John Atherton, pret- 
ty bad sort of night, kind of lone- 
sone ain't you—thought you might 
like some of my homemade biscuits. 
T know these cheesecakes will taste 
mighty good and I just brought along 
a jar of raspberry jam—Yes, T made 
it myself, so I reckon it’s pretty good.” 
“Why, Maria Hilton, it’s real nice 
o’ you to think o’ me and_ to come 
across that meadow a night like this. 
Won’t you stay and we'll have a cup 
0’ tea together. It'll be kind o’ social 
like.” aie | 
“Well, I don’t mind if I do stay and 
take a cup of tea with you John, for 
it’s a bit lonesome over to the farm 
since the good Lord took my Jim. 
Tillie’s a good sort of a girl acd does 
nretty well around the house and Tim 
he can manage all righ: looking a ier 
the horse and cow, ee? after all it’s 
not the kind of life to live.” 
“Say. Maria, the fire seems to burn 
brighter in that old grate tonight than 
it has for some time and these biscuits 
thev do taste good, and you say you 
made these cheesecakes. Well, I hope 
I may get plenty more like ’em. I 
reckon you may pass me some more 
o’ that jam—it’s the best I ever 
tasted.” 
“Well. John, I’m real glad I came 
over tonight, seeing as how you’re en- 
1oving your supper, and everything’s 
homemade.” 
“Yes, Maria, and everything does 
seem kind 0’ homelike. After all, 
there’s nothing like a woman in the 
house to brighten things up.” 
“That’s so, John Atherton, that’s 
so. Well, I must be going now. I did 
enjoy that cup of tea and I’m glad I 
came over.” 
“T’ll just get my hat and coat and 
walk home with you. Come on Jerry.” 
“Well, this house does seem strange 
and gloomy sure enough. Tillie, Tillie, 
girl, where are you? Come here, light 
this lamp and stir the fire. Put on an- 
other log of wood. Where’s Tim? 
Tell him to see to the horse and cow 
and lock up the barn for the night, 
then come into the sitting room and 
read your chapter.” 
“Yes, marm, and please, marm, 
there’s been a lady here to see you 
while you’ve been gone.. I told her 
you were over to Mr. Atherton’s and 
golly she looked black as thunder. 
She scared me nearly out of my wits, 
she did. Tim says to tell you the 
chores be all done, and law, marm, I 
hope that woman don’t ever come here 
again.” 
“Hello, Lindy, is that you? Kind o’ 
early, ain’t you, this morning ?” 
“Ves, father, I was over to widow 
Hilton’s last night and her girl told 
me she’d come calling on you.” 
“Yes, that’s so, gal; she stayed to tea 
and we had a real nice social time, 
quite homelike.” 
“Well, John Atherton, you ought to 
be ’shamed of yourself. What do 
you think Mary Ann and Christina 
Jane will say and Kate—nice how’d 
you do—an old man like you asking 
a widow to take tea with you.” 
“Yes, that’s so, gal, that’s so, but 
I’ve a mind to ask her to stay for 
good and to take me for better or. 
worse.” 
Bang went the door and off flew 
Lindy. 
John Atherton had been busy all 
the morning and had just sat down in 
his old arm chair. 
“Well,” said he, “I 
earned a rest. 
ry. old boy?” 
At this, Jerry wagged his tail and 
lay down at his master’s feet. The 
old man was dozing and dreaming of 
days of long ago when his little chil- 
dren now married and gone were play- 
ing around his knee. 
“Goodness, Christina Jane, how you 
startled me! I was just dreaming of 
you and your sisters.” 
reckon I’ve 
What do you say, Jer- 
Life comes from dying seeds 
In a dark soil, 
From blood and tragedy, 
From tears and toil. 
COMPENSATION 
Here suffering is our lot; 
In heaven we suffer not. 
Our suffering in a world of sense . 
Will find in earth or heaven a re- 
compense. 
DISCIPLINE 
God might have made a better world than 
this, 
With less of sin and more of bliss. 
It may be that the world we’re in 
Is but a stage of discipline. 
CHARACTER 
Not what you have, but what you are, 
Not where you live but how you live; 
Happiness is near, not far, 
Joy, not what you get but give. 
“Now, father, more like you were 
dreaming of that widow Hilton. 
What’s this nonsense you were talking 
about this morning to Lindy; going 
to make a fool of yourself, eh? Well, 
we, none of us, will darken your door 
again if you do, that’s all I can say.” 
“Well, I reckon that’s enough, gal.” 
And this time when the door was 
shut it shook the house like an earth- 
quake. Z 
The following day, tired and lone- 
some, John had again drawn his arm 
chair up to the -fire and had fallen 
asleep. Softly the door was opened 
and his daughter Kate walked into the 
room. 
“Dear old dad,” she said, as she 
looked at the sleeping figure. “How. 
glad I am his life is now to be 
brighter.” 
She leaned over him and kissed his 
forehead. The old man awoke. 
“Hello, dad, I’ve heard the news 
and I’m glad of it. Maria will make 
you a good wife.” 
“Yes, gal, my mind was made up, 
you see, to change this lonesome life 
and | thought my Kate would stand by 
her old dad.” 
A little girl’s father had a round 
bald spot. Kissing him at bed-time 
not long ago, she said: “Stoop down 
Popsy! I want to kiss the place where 
the lining shows.” —Tit-bits. 
It’s all right to take time by the 
forelock, but don’t tell your troubles 
before they happen. 
——- 
In getting to the top every man 
must be his own elevator. 
