Evening Republican, Volume 14, Number 36, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 11 February 1910 — SAREPTA'S HOLIDAY. [ARTICLE]

SAREPTA'S HOLIDAY.

It DM Not Coot Much Bat It Broach* ’ RefreshingThere were people who maintained that Sarepta Town carried the duties and responsibilities of life too lightly. It must be confessed that times and seasons were treated by her with scant ceremony upon occasions; and rites of house-cleaning, for instance, were performed by her according to the mandates of an inner voice, entirely regardless of the calendar, and she had been known to omit a sweepingday entirely, because, as she declared, there would be fifty-one other sweeping days in the year, but not for twelve months again such another hour of May magic. Occasionally even Sarepta’s devoted family rebelled against such serenely claimed freedom from custom and convention, but In general they ackhowledged it a small price to pay for the joyful zest in life which she carried about as an atmosphere. It was part of her philosophy that a holiday fas a change of mind, not a matter of the calendar. When she felt the need of refreshment, she could find it by dropping in to dinner with the next-door neighbor or going to spend the night with ft, friend round, the corner. “I can give my mind a change of air next door exactly as well as if I went to Atlantic City,” she declared, “to say nothing of its being so much cheaper." • It was in pursuance of her theory that she decided one Monday morning that she needed a change, and, accordingly, leaving a message for the family, she set out. This time she decided to go to a friend’s in a suburb, twenty miles away. meant 80 cents, but she would save that by doing without a pair of gloves she had Intended to buy; she could Clean her old ones; just now her soul thirsted for refreshment rather than for gloves; and by this plan she could squeeze out money for a new magazine. She found a magazine with a story by a favorite author, and hugging herself with delight, climbed joyously on board the train. It happened to be on the end track, where light sifted down to her window. She assured herself that she had her mileage book, and then settled down to her magazine with a sigh of bliss. The story was a long one, and she read on for one hour —two, and then came to herself with a start. The train was still motionless, and she its only passenger. The Westboro trains had been leaving all the morning from another track. She closed her magazine, left her private car, and half an hour later walked in upon her family, just assembled for luncheon. She explained the situation gravely. “But why didn’t you go, after all?” her family asked. “Why should I?” she retorted. “I had a perfectly beautiful morning and all the feel of a journey, and what else did I need? At least you’ll have to acknowledge nobody can manage holidays as cheaply as I.”—Youth’s Companion.