The Lancaster ledger. [volume] (Lancaster, S.C.) 1852-1905, 1854-06-14


his name been mentioned in that fathers
presence. Oh a wretchcd heart was Mr..
Rs-morc wrctched even than that Of the
pale woman in the corner, us he sat there,
| crouching over the dying cmbers, and dared
not again meet the silent rebuke Of a tear.
The room began to grow chilly, and the
cmbcrs few, 50 that Mr.. r. was flin, at last
to make ready for the night. He drew the
Goals, one by one, into little heap, and then
went on to cover them with ashes, pausug
between each shovelfnl, to listen to the how
ling of the storm without. Dreadful
dreadful" !" he muttered, rs the last coal dis
appeared" Poor James then dropped
| his head on his breast again. lie did not
notice the quick start of his wife, her nvoI-
untary exclamation, and the flush on her
check. Poor woman! for five long years
that Iiame had never passed those lips, uu.
coupled with imprecatons and now to hear
it uttered gently, had well nigh unnamed
her. How shc longcd to plead once more,
from Il mothers full heart but the recol-
lection of past brutal repulses crushed the
first germ of hope, aud she sank back into
her former listlcssncss.
The wind kept bowling louder and louder,
round the corner of the house ; the sect kept
pattering harder and hnrderngainst the Win
dow panes. Z" "Hark !" cxclaims Mr. r., start
ing up;" some one knocks; and yet it can
no: be, for what poor wretch could wander,
unhuuscd, at this time of night, in such II
storm. But, wait-thcre it is again. Stir
up the fire, Lucy we surely cannot turn him
adrift again, whoever he be-" SO saying,
Mr.. r. seized the lamp, and proceeded to
unbolt the hall door-slowly at first, and
with the precautionary question, Who's
there?" No answer, save the voice of the
storm! Now Mr.. Rs heart begins TO beat
faster, as he opens the door very little way ,
and shades the fickering lamp with his left
hand There's certainly no one there. The
slcct comes driving into his face, and through
it he can discern nothing but the ghost-like
trees, over the wa. lie steps back, still
gr,sping the door firmly with his left hand
sets down his lamp, then puts his ear to the
crevce; for he had half imagined that he
heard n human voice above the wall Of the
storm. All, there was no mstakc-hcrc it
Mr.. Il. does not hesitate now. The door
opens wide. The Pickering lamp goes out,
with the first inburst of the wind /; yet none
| the less speedily does the eager man dscov-
iI,, AZ
walls. He lifts up the little bundle, already
half covered with sicct, from the cold stone,
, and clasps half frozen infant in his arms.
The spi-itlcss and pale woman WAS at
once wide awake. A blazing wood fire soon
ditlused warmth and chccrincss over the
! room again. Poor little thing, how came
| il there! p "Whom can il belong to 2 and
a score of Other questions, asked the now
busting housewife, never waiting for an
answer, rs she kept on divcsting the sobhtng
child of the manifold ntegnments in which
it was wrNpped like an Egyptian mummy.
! A thick shawl, flannel blanket, and an in
fant cloak, were all stripped of before any
thing like year-old baby appeared, with
thin naXen cnrls struggling out from its IT.
tie worsied cap, and the tinicst of little hands,
done up in the tiuicst of mittens. Mr.. r.,
who had been watching proceedings with
! keen interest, now be- an to show signs OF
uncasincss-to rub his hands vigorously
! and actually trembled when the child stretch
| cd out its little mttened hands to him, lisp
ing, in half sobs, " Take baby, papa" But
| when the little cap was withdrawn, and the
! thin faxcn ours fell down over high, snow
white brow, an unmistakablc likeness smote
! the fathers heart.
my God!' he exclaimed, watching thc
! infant, that is 3nmes child. Don't you see
his brow, his eyes, his hair, his whole face q
Then, ciosping the child in his arms, he
| groaned, only rs heart stepped in agony
can groan, but he could not weep.
! the child, now warmed and soothed, star
I'd with his great hazel eyes into his grand
fathers face, in infantile wonderment a mo-
ment, then clappcd two plump, dimpled
hands on his brown checks, puckered up his
own little lips into n smile, and said "Poor
papa, poor papa" All, that simple appeal
touched The right chord, the unconscious
child had unsealed tho fathers heart--too
late, to be sure, but the poor man knew il
| not.
How the tears now ran down and wet the
Aaxon curls, Till the infant looked up again
with that same troubled expression, in lis
grandfather's face How the pale woman
wept, too. The gladness was well-nigh too
much for Ler feeble frame,
The cmbers died away second time, and
the lamp began to flicker, yet there sat the
conscence-stricken father and'the overjoyed
mother, weeping and wondering over the
sleeping infant, olasping tenderly its little
yeIyety hands, and stroking It's thin curls
! eTo-morrow," sighed, ominousIy perhaps
Mr. R., as he turned, for the last time that
nigh, from gazing at the fac-simile Of hi
ealscarded son, as he lay asleep on The sofa