The weekly Ottumwa courier. [volume] (Ottumwa, Iowa) 1857-1872, 1859-10-20
81 will call again tonight" said he, on

81 will call again tonight" said he, on
going away.
How the words smote upon her heart.
"Again to-nightr' Then there was indeed
danger!
By this time Annals fever had greatly in
creased in violence, and she moaned and
tossed about restlessly. The medicine left
by the doctor did not seem to make any i'm
preston. There was rather an exacerbation
than an abatement of the worst symptoms.
Towards ten o'clock the doctor called again.
He came in with a serious, professional air,
and sat down by the bedside, without speak
ing. After feeling the child's pulse, he bent
over and examined her skin.
"Is it scarlet fever, Doctor?''
The voice Of Mrs. Lewis was husky and
tremulous. She held her breath, waiting for
an answer to her question.
at may be only mild case of scarlet rash,"
replied the doctor. But there was evasion
in the tones Of his voice, and the anxious
iiUtltcI was nOJ ueCelNcu.
Continue the medicine as before. I will
see her early in the morning"
And with nothing more to encourage their
fear-stricken hearts, the father and mother
were left for the night with their sick child.
Neither slept, for there was no abatement of
fever, and the little sufferer cried or moaned,
or threw herself restlessly about through all
the weary hours, until day-dawn. When
the doctor next came, he made no attempt at
concealment. All the signs were clear. 1t
was case Of scarletina, and by no means
light one.
Unhappy mother! All her soul was filed
with terror. Naturally of tender and low
ing nature, her heart had become bound UP
in her children, and the thought of losing
this one, her first-born, pierced her with
sharpest anguish
Alas if this had been all. But never for
moment, could she thrust aside the memo
ry of her unkindness and neglect-of the
sharp, angry repulsion with which she had
driven her child away, when, suffering from
the encroachments of disease, and in a state
of consequent irritation of mind and body,
she had sought her care and attention. How
many times during the next five or six DAYS
of anguish and suspense, did she steal away
to some secluded place, and, bending tear
fully in prayer, ask that her child might not
be taken from her.
"Oh spare her, Heavenly father-spare
her this time! Do not take nv child and
leave my heart borne down with double
weight of sorrow and self-reproval"
This was the burden of her oft-repeated
prayer. The richly embroidered garment
in which her mind had become so much in
terested as to cause her to forget, for the
time, the real wants of her children, was
hidden away. The sight of it rebuked her
as with stern words.
Rapidly the disease ran its course, and
little Anna was brought to the brink of the
river of DEATH her white feet barred to 60 down
into the darkly flowing waters. And still,
from the mothers heart, went up the almost
wildly-uttercd prayer, "Oh, spare me my
child! Spare me my child ~
AT last the long suspense was over the
struggle with disease ended, and The uncon-
scious one lay white and still before the
hushed weepers; not still in death, but in
the calm of exhausted nature, for life vet lin
gered about the heart, and crept along the
veins in feeble currents.
"The crisis is past there is hope"
1t was the physician who spoke, bending,
as he did so, to the mothers ear. She did
not start, nor answer. but stood motionless
for an instant, and then fell forward upon
the bed, lost for time to all that was pass
ing around her.
Back from the river of death, down into
the waters Of which little Annals feet were
about passing, came the beloved child to her
mothers eager arms and as she lay, in slow
convalescence, day after day, upon her bosom
the promise of wiser consideration of her
in the future were over and over again renew
ed. And these promises were kept. If, at
any time, she was tempted to forget them,
memory had only to take her back to those
days and nights of terrible fear and suspense
to give them all the power of fresh resolu-
ton.