Butte record., 1857-01-17

| lIoMH lOr snort Ilme'
4 value your love more than life,
peace or happiness
%, Dot you don't think we leave
peace and happiness behind =
we leave goodness
Dot raised the window and looked
out. As they dashed by the college a
dark fig ire was leaning against a tree.
She drew back, shudderingly, and bow
ed her head on Fred's shoulder, he
seemed like calm, accusing spirit.
As the carriage passed John Tenn
pie moved rapidly away.
'As | feared, she has eloped with
him. Human nature, how prone to err
But wilt thou not, 0 God watch over
that lamb which has gone so far
astray? What have [ to live for but
to watch over and relieve her when the
day of trouble cometh, for come it will.
When we sin we suffer
CHAPTER VI.
Her lonely home unghted hearth
And hopes frail blossoms crushed 10 earth.
Five years had passed since Dot Ell
der left her fathers roof to follow the
fortunes of Fred Broadwell. Had all
her happy dreams been realized Had
she found his love like the sturdy oak,
swaying not one way or the other, but
ever reaching out his arms to support
her? Had be ever remembered his
vow to love and cherish her in sickness
and health She had married him
without fathers blessing-without a
mothers's clinging embrace and a NUT
tered God bless you!' She had left
them all, and left them entirely, for
appeal after appeal had been made in
vain. They would receive her no
more, and then she turned to the bright
idol of her youthful dreams, expecting
to find happiness but she saw his love
fade as the curly dew. When she
brought not the glittering millionf, he
left her neglectfully. and sought COM
panionsbip elsewhere,
Dot saw it all, his lovo 60 out--he
turns to others for sympathy-his soul
become welded to what Was vile and
corrupt; and yet all she oonld do was
to see and feel. o. it is indeed mis-
cry to see love or loved one fade; to
watch the slow decay, day by day, and
yet have no power to stay it. She al
so watched a young life come into ex-
istence and pass away, alone ; and she
folded the white sheet over the icy
breast, she pressed her inwardly bleed
ing heart and thought it would be sweet
to die. When she looked over life she
saw naught but blasted hopes and bril-
liant anticipations fallen. In the past
she saw her error-the future WAS a
blank-and the present art-bursting
sorrows. No heart was there for her
to turn to, no arm to receive her, she
prayed for death. From this lethargy
she was aroused by the overwhelming
intelligence of the death of her husband
by collision on the railroad. His
bleeding corpse lay before her. She
folded the stiffened hands across his
cold heart, and felt her task was done.
Like the prodigal she would return to
her father.
o when the erring are laid before
US by the relentless hand of death,
when we look at the repulsive wind
ing-sheet and touch the cold lips. when
we remember every tone of that voice
now stllled forever, and every motion
Of that form so soon to be the food of
worms, how small their errors appear.
Then what would we not give to have
them with US again, that we might bear
their faults more patiently and make
them more happy.
CHAPTER VII.
The day came for the journey which
she expected to take alone, but in the
midst Of it kind hand and a support
ing arm was offered her. John Tcm>
pie stood again at her side, and in his
quiet way was making her happy.
When Dot reached her home her
father stood in the gateway, His hair
was white, and his form bent by pre-.
mature old age, opening his arms, she
was folded to his heart without a word,
For her mother, he pointed to white
tombstone cleaning in the moonlight,
and told tale of death bed at which
a daughter was missed and her ab-
sence mourned over.
Dot spent a quiet year in that shell
tered home, learning to say 'Thy will
be done in all things, and help me to
acknowledge it, Ere the flowers
bloomed again, her father slept beside
her mother meath the sod, and Dot
was again alone in the world, then
came John Temple with words like
these:
The world has used thee i'll, darling,
! by its cold selfshness, and care has
pierced thy tender breast with many
an arrow, thy wings are bruised, and
thy spirit broken. Wilt thou not rest
in my arms They will never grow
weary of holding thee, the heart
against which thon shalt rest will new
er become cold, aud | will watch thet
with the tenderest care to keep thee
from HARM
She placed her haud in his, saying
/ would be at rest
se- A Professor having been feast
ed on pig for three or four days, salt
to the landlady Madame, this PIC