Delaware weekly Republican. [volume] (Wilmington, Del.) 1841-188?, 1857-03-26
IHAVE NOMOTHER.

PFtHhtiy t0sf, IS fOs' forever.
; IHAVE NOMOTHER.
Maynt stay, ma'ami I'll do anything
you give me cut wood, go for water, and de-
all yopr errands."
The troubled eyes of the speaker were filled
with tears. 1t was a lad that stood at the outei
door, pleading with a kindly-looking woman
who still seemed to doubt the reality of his
! good intentions.
The cottage stood by itself on bleak moor
: orwhat in Scotland would have been called
such. The time was near the latter end of
september, and atierce wind ratified the boughs
ofthe only two naked trees near the house, and
I fed with shivering sound into the narrow
, doorway, as il seeking for warmth at the bla
= zing fire within.
y Ow and then snowflake touched with It,
soft chill the cheek of the listener, or whitenet
with the angry redness of the poor boys be
} numbed hands,
The woman was evidently 10th 10 grant the
boys request; and the peculiar look stamped
upon his features. would have suggested to
any mind an idea of depravity far beyond his
years. .
But her woman's heart could not resist the
sorrow in those large, but by no means hand
some, gray eyes.
"Come in, at any rate, till the good man
! comes home. There, sit down by the fire !:
you look perishing with cold !" and she drew
rude chair up to the warmest corner; then
suspiciously gancing at the child from the
corners of her eyes, she continued setting the
table for supper.
Presently came the tramp of heavy shoes, the
door was swung open with quick jerk, and the
''good man" presented himself, wearied with
labor.
A look of intelligence between his wife and
himself; he, too, scanned the boys face with an
expression not evincing satisfaction but new
ertheless made him come to the table, and then
enjoyed the zest with which he dispatched his
supper.
Day after day passed, and yet the boy beg
ged to be kept sc only till tomorrow 20 so the
good people, after due consideration, coneu-
ded that as long as he was so docie, and work.
ed so heartily they would retain him.
One day, in the middle of the winter, ped
lar, long accustomed to trade at the cottage,
made his appearance, and disposed ofhis goods
readily, as if he had been waited for.
:" \ OH have u boy out there, splitting wood,
see" he said, pointing to the yard.
" Yes do you know him ?''
sively.
"And wherei Who is he What is he 2"
:" a Jail birds" and the pedlar swung his |
pack over his shoulder. "That boy young as
he looks, l saw in court myself, and heard his
sentence" Ten months" He's hard one
you'd do well to look carefully after him.
D there was something so horrible in the
word "jail," the poor woman trembled as she
laid away her purchases nor could she be |
easy till she called the boy in, and assured
him that she knew that dark past Of his his
tory.
Ashamed, distressed, the child hung down
his head his cheeks seemed bursting with the
hot blood his lips quivered, and anguish was
painted as vyidly upon his forehead, as if the
words were branded into the flesh.
:" We'll" he muttered, his whole franc re-
laXlng, as If burden Of gIilt orjoy had sud-
denly rolled off, 81 may as we'll go to ruin at
onc'ti there's no use in my trying to do better;
every body hates and despiaes me; nobody
sac ShFss aboyt me ! may as, well go to ruin at
SO Tell me,'' said the woman, VINO ss.--
off far enough for flight, if that should be
necessary, Z" how came you to go to that
dreadful place Where was your mother
where %
% exclaimed the boy, with burst of
grief that was terrible to behold, g o ! hain't
no mother ! OF hain't had no mother ever
since was baby. If I'd only had mother,'
he continued, his anguish growing more vehe- |
ment, and the tears gushed out from his strange |
looking gray eyes, Sc wouldn't ha' been bound |
out, and kicked, and cufed and laid on to with |
whips. | wouldn't ha' been saucy, and got |
knocked down, and run away, and then stole
because / was hungry. OH hain't got no
mother; hain't got no mother; haven't had
no mother since l was baby
The strength was all gone from the poor boy
and he sank on his knees, sobbing great cho-
king sobs, and rubbing the hot tears away with |
his poor knucllles. And did that woman stand |
there unmoved2 Did she coldly bid him pack |
up and be ohS-the Jail bird
No, no; she had been mother and though !
all her children slept under the cold sod in the
church-yard, she was mother still.
She went up to that poor boy, not to hasten |
him away, but to lay her fingers kindly, softly
on his head; to tell him to look up, and from
hencetOrth find in her another Yes, she even,
put her arms about the recl of that forsaken'
deserted child; she poured from her mothers
heart sweet, womanly words swords of counsel
and tenderness.
O, how sweet was her sleep that night how
soft her pillow! She had linked a poor suffer-
ing heart to hers, by the most silken, the
strongest bands Of love; she had plucked some
thorns from the path OF u little, shining but
striving-mortal.
Did the boy leave her.
Neverl He is with her still, vigorous,
manly, promising youth. The unfaV orable cast
Ofhis countenance has given place to an open,
pleasing expression, with depth enough to
make it an interesting study. His foster-iather
is dead; his good foster mother, aged and
sickly but she knows no want. The once poor
outcast is her only dependence, nobly does he
repay the trust.