Rensselaer Semi-Weekly Republican, Volume 37, Number 1, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 3 January 1905 — How Me and Martny Made Up. [ARTICLE]

How Me and Martny Made Up.

We had a row 'bout a month ago— Me an’ Marthy, an’ couldn’t agree; Somehow or other it seemed as thou;, h Love was a-wanin’ 'twixt her ’an me. I’ll allow that it wasn’t righit, But I had a temper that wouldn't hold, While Marthy, it seemed to me, fer spite, Grew harsh an’ sullen an’ stern an’ cold. Matters come to a p'int at last, She said she reckoned we’d better part; Each go away an’ forgit th’ past— I smothered th’ feelin’s ’twas in my heart, Fer I was proud, an’ I wouldn’t show My feelin’s to her, so, without a sigh, I slammed th’ door ter let her know That that was my only an’ last goodbye. I went to town, but roy heart was sad, Un spite of th’ bitter remarks she'd made, I thought of she past years, bright an' ■ glad, While lovin’ thoughts through my memory strayed. I brought to mind all th’ days gone by, An’ th’ sacred time when we two had wed, An’ a tear, unbidden, come to my eye, As I thought of the words of reproach I’d said. Then came remorse, an’ I turned about, An’ ’twas late when I reached th' farm once more; There was no wife givin’ a welcome out, As I stopped th’ team at th’ kitchen door. I tip-toed into th’ settin’ room, An’ stood, ashamed for a minute's space, Fer there she sat in th’ gatherin’ gloom, An’ th’ tears flowed free down her careworn, face. An’ there on th’ table, a baby’s wrap I saw, with a hood of faded blue; While a little sock lay in her lap, With a curl oi gold an’ a tiny shoe. An’ then I thought of the child that slept, Of th’ golden head that had gone before, An’ I knelt beside uer, an’ us two wept O'er th’ little things that our baby wore. I drew her face to my ftirro-.Ved cheek, Ain’ kissed th’ tears from her eyes, an’ then I sobbed repentance when I could speak, Am’ begged fer th’ ol’-time love again; She smoothed my face with her wrinkled hand, An’smiled at me in th’ old., old way, An’ whispered words of tenderness, and Marthy an’ I made up to stay. —E. A. Brininstool ”in Sunset Magazine for September.