Soon arter they had gone Tom Osborne come a ridin by and brought me a letter.
As soon as he said “letter” my heart leapt. I knew it was from Jobe.
Tom said he was sorry to see me out here in the road, and the man really shed tears. He lives some eight miles from here, and wanted me to go home with him for the nite. But I jist couldent go. So he rode on.
Arter he was gone I got a lamp and sot down by the fire I had built in the stove, with some quilts around me, to read poor Jobe’s letter. And every word seemed to be another knife stuck in my heart.
Poor Jobe he is havin it hard too. I jist cried like my heart would break as I read what he writ. I send it to you to read. I want you to return it, as it is from the only person in the world that cares for me. Here it is—you can read it for yourself. You see it was writ at different times and places.
JOBE’S FIRST LETTER.
Elyria, O., Feb. 22, 1896.
To Betsy Gaskins.
My Dear Wife:—I have put off ritin to you thinkin I would be able to rite you somethin to make you happy, but to date I cant.
I got into Lorain the third day arter leavin you. I found a big iron works there and lots of men at work, but on the sides of the door to their office and at all the gates around the big fence they have signs stuck up, readin: