The southern enterprise. [volume] (Greenville, S.C.) 1854-1870, 1855-02-23

Mary; oh! do help him to. the bed, and 90
forthe doctor /; we'll pay you well; indeed
we will" ~ a9r%. as2r. -. s.. SIS. 70
The doctor came. The wound he said
was not dangerous, but without medical aid
might become SO. He dressed the young
mans head, and prepared to go. Pausing
before John, who lift his lustrous and smiling
face to the doctor, he said: .'a.sE =
You seem very well pleased, sir 1 wish
you joy. .. .'...,.
Mary had told him all. -'
The sick man only bowed his head and
then as he languidly laid it back again the
doctor gazed compassionately upon him. r@
Il thought my Heavenly Father would
never forsake lis" he murmured feebly ;'.and
so told Mary. Thank God, when am
gone, she will have son. Oh, God be
praised ~ ID. neg. ~ .,.a ~.
"You are cold and exhausted,p said the
doctor, laying, his hand gently on the dying
mans brow show long have you felt thus Z"
My feet became very stiff just before dark,
and since then / have been failing fast"
His voice had grown husky. .....
''Be careful" whispered the doctor, rs Ma
ry uttered an exclamation of alarm, and he
pointed to the young man, whose pale cheek
seemed stamped with the hue of death :" the
least excitement, aud cannos save him. You
must perceive that your husband is nearly
gone; be thankful that he seems so well pre-
pared-and let your grief be as quiet as pos
sibie"
allow can l." sobbed Mary, with stiAed
voice. "Dear John, won't you rest your
head on my bosom ? Oh, how can l, how
can !, how can l give you upw
He turned his dying eyes upon her with
unutterable love he leaned towards her, and
his long curled hair fell OH her bosom his
lips moved-the doctor bent down-"For
this my son was lost and is found" issued
thcretrom sit is something of the Joy we
shall all feel when we meet in Heaven, ,sn'tit!
Have you any neighbors?" asked the
kind physician, as wailing sobs seemed rend-
ing the heart of the poor mourner.
NO"
"Tacn will send you somebody. He looks
very peaceful and happy--you should be
more thankful for his slight suffering; as
| sure you he breathed at the last like an in
fant--he will never feel pain any more"
Mary TOLD him she was not afraid to stay
with her dead and the doctor sprang into
the carriage that had been waiting at the
door, and hurried away for assistance.
The next morning, frost had gathered up.
on the crazy windows of Mary's habitation,
but the bright fire sent out heat and light
into every crevice. Her husband, sheeted
for his last home, lay with happy smile,
making death beautiful on his wan features.
The son, still very faint and weak, had been
able to tell his story Of wreck, poverty, want,
and, lastly, good fortune. Adopted by the
rich citizen of a foreign land, he became q
thriving merchant, and his only grief was
the silence ofhis parents. For he had writ,
ten them letter after letter, and as yet receiv.
ed no reply, they having frequently changed
their residence into neighboring towns and
cities. AT last he set forth, leaving the maid
en- he loved, and to whom he was betrothed
his prosperous business, and severing all the
new but closely knit ties Of friendship, to seek
his parents. From place to place he had fol.
lowed them, grieved to behold in the gradu.
al decline of comfort, in each successive
dwelling they had occupied, sure evidence OF
their decaying prospects. 1ncautiously, while
stopping at an eating house, in tho vicinity
ofthe alley where he had learned his parents
lived, he had displayed gold, and, tempted
by the sight, villain followed him and fel.
led him to the ground, where he must soon
have perished. Fortunately, the bulk Of
what money he had was dexterously conceal.
ed in a belt around his person, the means to
bring to the home Of poverty, luxuries that
had not gladdened it for many day.
Poor Mary could not eat. The thought
that if he could only be sharing with he,
these simple deiicacies, if it were but fol
once, shut out the faith that should have seen
him feasting on the fruit of Heaven, renew.
cd in beautiful and perpetual youth-nevel
to wipe tear away, never to breathe sigh
again.
Even so doth grieffor time cloud even
the glory of revelation. ...r
Mother" said Henry, after the coffin had
been loweredto its last resting place, and the
few mourners had come back, II will try tc
be what he was to you, dear mother. You
shall never know want--above all, while
live, the want Of love. They told me iu the
land of the orange and the palm, to bring
my father and my mother back with me.
will tell then< 70 give to YOU the doubleiaen
derness thatthey would have cherished fol
lyou both
/ 81 have been ungrateful = ,nasinured Ma
| ry, as she stood leaning on the arm. Of he,