Grant County herald. [volume] (Lancaster, Wis.) 1850-1968, 1850-10-10

uetp sign he Hun tff's y saw ncT,
she was ute composed; only for the
white che * and black dress, you would
not know hat the burning feel of child's
last kiss ad ever touched her lips.
My fat ier's wife lnourne,l for him af-
ter anoth,r fashion. She could not sit
quiet she must work hard to keep the
life in thu N to whom she gave it-and il
was only in the evening when she sat
down bel ,re the fire with Mary in her
arms, .hs 1 she used to sob and rock her.
self to ar fro, and sing low, vailing
keen for the father Of the little one,
whose in ,ocent tear was always ready
to fall wi en- she saw her mother cry
About Ii S time my mother got an offer
from son Of the hucksters in the neigh
borhood, who knew her honesty, 10 go
three tin. es week TO the next market
town, to miles off, with their little mo-
ney, and bring them back supplies of
bread, groceries, soap and candles. This
she use, TO do, walking the twenty
miles, ten of them with heavy load on
her back, for the sake Of earning enough
to keep us alive. Twas very seldom
that Richard could get stroke Of work
to do; tie boy wasn't strong in himself,
for he lad the sickness too; though he
recovered from it, and always did his
best TO earn an honest penny wherever
he could | often wanted my mother to
let me 0 in her stead and bring back
the load but she never would hear of it,
and KEEP me at home TO mind the house
and it'll, Mary. My poor pet lamb !
twas little minding she wanted. She
would g after brcakfact and sit at the
door, ard stop there all day watching
for her mother, and never needing the
neighbors' children that used to come
wanting her to play. Through the i've
long hours she would never stir, but
just kee p her eyes fixed on the lonesome
by-road, and when the shadow of the
mountai n ash grew long, and she caught
glimpse Of here mother ever SO far off,
coming towards home, the Joy that would
flush on the small patient face, was
brightc than the sunbeam on the river.
And FAINT and weary as the poor wo-
man us cd to be, before she sat down
she'd have Mary nesting in her bosom.
No matter how little she might have Gu
ten herself that day, she would always
bring nome a little white bun for
Mary and then the child, who had tas-
ted not thing since morning, would eat it
so happily, and then fall quietly to sleep
in her mothers arms.
At he end of some months | got the
sickness myself, but not so heavily as
Richard did before. Any way, he and
my mother tended me well through it,.
They sold almost every stick of furni-
ture that was left to buy me drink and
medicine. BY degrees recovered, and
the first evening was able to sit up,
| noticed strange, wild brightness in
my mothers eyes, and the hot flush on
her thin cheeks-she had taken the fc-
yer.
Before she lay down on the wisp Of
straw that served her for bed, she bro't
little Mary over to me: +" Take her,
Sally she said-and between every
word she gave the child kiss" Take
her, Sally, she's safer with you than she'd
be with me, for your over the sickness |;
and 'tisn't long any way I'll be with you,
my jewell" she said, as she gave the lit
tie creature one long, close hug, and put
her into my arms.
'Twould take long to tell you all about
her sickness; how Richard and /, as
good right we had, tended her night and
day and how when every farthing and
farthing's worth we had in the world was
gone, the mistress herself came down
from The big house, the very day after
the family returned home from France,
and brought wine, food, medicine, linen,
and everything we could want.
Shortly after the kind lady had gone,
my mother took the change for death I;
her senses came back, she grew quite
strong like, and sat straight up in bed.
"Bring me the child, Sally, oleagn,"
she s;lid. And when carried little Ma
ry over to her, she looked into the tiny
face, as if she was reading it like book.
you wont be long away from mi, my
own one," she said, while the tears fell
upon the child like summer rain.
.'Mother," said |, as well as ] could
speak for crying, "sure you know III
do my best to tend hcr."
~ know you will accushla; you were
always true and dutiful daughter to me
and 10 him that's gone; bat Sally, there's
that il my weeney one that won't let her
thrive without the mothers hand over
her, and the mothers heart for her to
lean against. And now" it was all
that she could say: she just clasped the
little child to her bosom, fell back or my
arm and IN a few moments all was over.
At first Richard aud | could not believe
she vas dead; and il was very long be-
fore the orphan would loose her hold Of
a.. st;Frarioa, fu0crs. but xyken tho