So, the expressman said, they came and got him, and they drove out and loaded her into his express wagon, and he brought her out here.
“Her name is Betsy Gaskins,” says he.
It was cold and stormy, and the poor old soul was in great pain all night.
A few minutes ago I went in, and she was breathing so weak that I put my hand in her bosom to see if her heart was beating, and I found this letter from “Jobe Gaskins.” It seems she is a married woman, and he has been away from home and is coming back. I send it to you, and, if you see him, tell him where he can find his wife.
Now, Mr. Editor, you had better send this old man’s letter back, so that if the old lady gets better she will have it. But I don’t know as she will ever be much better; she seems to be sinking.
Send the old man out as soon as he gets there.
From a friend to Betsy Gaskins,
Hattie Moore.
JOBE’S FOURTH LETTER.
Akron, O., March 12, 1896.