The weekly mountain Democrat. [volume] (Placerville, El Dorado County, Calif.) 1861-1862, 1861-10-26
students that evening in a distant portion

I've half n mind to throw myself on the
lounge, which looks so provokingly com.
Portable this evening, and not attempt nm
encounter with the elements. It's absurd
to think they'll expect me such night as
this. In short, ] won't tempt an influ-
enza by showing my face outside the
door, was The conclusion Of my mono
logue.
remember that wheeled up the sofa
in comfortable proximity to the fire, loca-
ted the lamp so that its rays fell softly
upon the volume intended TO commune
with, and that had settled myself for a
long quiet winters evening.
But it would not do. NY eyes wander.
cd liStleSsly along the pages they could
not engage my attention. A strange un-
accountable feeling Of rcstlcssness and
anxiety seemed to possess me. At last
resolutely closed the book, and few min
utes later ! was in Broadway, mentally
censuring my folly in yielding to feeling
| could not resist.
All me looking back through the eight
years that lie between that weary night
and the present, how clearly can ! discover
the great Fathers love in it all
What is it you want here, little boy p
Il see him now just as though had seen
him this morning, and the light from the
tall window is falling on him just as il fell
then, revealing his ragged dress and pale,
pinchcd features, and the cold rain is drip.
ping of his thick brown curIs, just as it
did then. II is strange, mournful pic
turc-the dark ground in the background,
and the little ragged boy, and the brilliant
lights, and the great store, with all sorts
Of rare confcctiops, in front. No wonder
it touched my heart. The boy started as
] laid my hand gently on his shoulder,
and looking up with his wild, eager, clear
eyes into my face
oh, sir! he said, after a moments
earnest perusal Of my features; Il was
thinking if only could carry one Of those
cakes home to Ellen; she is very sick, and
and Ohe little fellows lip quivered,)
We haven't had anything to eat for two
days
| did not speak another word but I
caught hold Of the child, and pulled him
after me into the store.
Hand me down a plate Of those cakes
! cried to the astonished clerk, who turn
cd with more than ordinary alacrity to
fulfil my request. drew the boy into
small sitting room at one end of the eStab-
/ llshment.
| Now cat these as fast as you can, and
then tell me who Ellen is
Ills hungry look, the strange avidity
with which he grasped the food, almost
rung tears from my eyes.
Ellen is my Sister-my only sister since
the baby died. We are all alone now
Last month. just after they buried mother,
she grew sick. s'pose it was because
she cried so much: and she's been grow
ing worse all the time
And there is nobody TO take care Of her
now, but you, my little fellow
Nobody but me-the money mother
left is all gone, you see, sir, and though ]
sometimes earn sixpcnce by selling pa
pcrs or cleaning sidewalks, ! could not
leave Nelly for the last week, she grew so
much worse. U, sir, how good these taste!
I can't thank you, but ! want to-
well, you needn't, my boy; want no
other thanks than your enjoyment of
them
but mayn't take the rest home to
Nelly? She'll he frightened, I'm gone SO
long. O,sir, if you'd only go home with
me y
I'll come and see yon and Nelly to-
morrow said, If you'll tell me where
you live; and now while you are eating
the remainder Of your cakes, III get some
thing that Nelly will like better
procured basket, which | saw well
stocked with variety Of fruits and con-
fections most likely to tempt the appetite
Of an invalid, and adding 10 these all the
money had with inc, l returned to the
child.
Go home to Nelly with these as fast as
you can, said. and tell her that | will
come to see her Tomorrow morning
Now, be man, my little boy, and take
good care of sister Ellen till then
And all these for her?' said the child,
as his large wondering eyes rOamed over
the basket. And Shg7has been moaning
in her sleep after m orange the whole
week. U, sir, We will pray God to bless
you for oil this, and he will, for mother
used to say he would hold those in ever
lasting remembrance who forgot not the
widow and the orphan, and tears Of mill
glcd gratitude and delight were shower
ing down the little fellows face rs We
parted.
The next morning, Hattie, ] received
that letter which summoned ME to my
fathers dying bedside. I had, of course,
no time to fulfill my engagement with the
little orphans, in whom | had become so
greatly Interested; indeed, the mOurnful
circumstances which drew INC once more
to the home of my childhood banished
them from my mind.
If you will look down to that time, my
little sister, you will remember that April
was weaving her green carpet over the
meadows before we parted, and | returned
to the city to complete my studies, and
then to enter that service in which, be-
fore my fathers dying bed had sOleInnly
pledged to spend oil the life that God
should grant me.
had forgotten the name Of the boys
residence, but know that made several
attempts to discover it after my return to
the city, all of which proved Intellectual.
It was the sunset Of bright day in
the early May time, and even in the great
city looking fairer for the sunshine that
plated the house.tops with gold, and
swept in golden fiukps und dimpies along
the pavclnents up which I was passing
with some fellow students TO supper.
Now, Marshall, remember to call for
US in time, for tho lecture commences at
seven, and it will certainly be crowded,
called out one Of my companions, as we
reached the corner where our paths d.
verged. 'A-"a-'
/ Ibowed my assent and adieu, and was
huFryiDg forward, when my coat was
suddenly grasped, and an eager but timid
voics said, Please, sir, is your name
Marshallf'
turned and looked at the speaker. It
was little girl, apparently about ten
years Of age; ber long curls falling in
bright. tangled mass about her small, sOr-
rowfVl.looking face, while her large blue
ewes were fastened with kind Of painting