The Kenosha telegraph. [volume] (Kenosha, Wis.) 1860-1888, 1865-10-12

longed to ask how | had learned her home
nancy es'ma am; | am Jane and they
call me Body =
SIS Susy very sick?7 .trn i
pretty bad, guess maan. She can't
> sit up, and she coughs most all the time,
and mother sent me after doctor this
morning"
E | asked her where she lived, aud she men
toned number on Pleasant Street.
s'WelI," | said, ''tell Susy not to worry. |
shall get along nicely, and | will come to
see her as soon as ] can make tine-to- night
if not before"
Eyes, ma'am."
She went away then. She had lazy
sort of voice. and spoke lingeringly-quite
unlike the quick, characteristic utterances
of little Brains. How well | remembered
that first day, and the brisk "Yesn" that
broke In upon my musings.
1t was quite late in the afternoon before l
could make time to go to Pleasant Street
found the Morys living in the third story
of a .comfortable-looking house. | first
went into a room which seemed to serve as
kitchen and sitting Mrs Mory, a
tired looking woman who had been pretty
once, was stirring something in saucepan
over the fire She turned to greet me, and
invited me to 60 into the next room, where
Susy was 1t was small bed room, but
Everything was neat and clean. There lay
poor little Brains, with a bright flush burn
ing on her cheeks, her eyes gittering, and
her poor little body shaken by a paroxysm
ofcoughing. AS soon as she could speak
she put out her hand
Thank you, Miss Macgregor; it was
very kind Of you to come didn't mean
to give up i'll that way, and disappoint you.
And suppose yon will have to get some
one else. | thought first that perhaps Body
could do my work for week or two until
got better; but don't suppose she would
answer"
mo, fear she wouldn't; aud besides,
while you are i'll your mother will need her
at home. But III keep the place for you
L shall nave to get some one else to be sure
but I'll get them with the understanding
that you are to come back just as soon as
you are able and they must be ready TO
give up to you at any time
''Oh. how good, how good you are" the
poor little morsel cried, with kindling eyes
Il was so afraid that should lose my place
that it was worse than the sickness
Her gratitude touched me profoundly, for
it seemed to me, even them that she would
never be any better; and it was so hard to
think of that poor little patient life going
out 80 early, quenched in its dawn.
1t brought on her cough to talk, so did
not stay with her long. In the way out |
said to her mother,
I ''Do not be troubled by any fear of want
| shall pay Susy her wages just the same
/ ! fcba 7 - 6
| am prospecting in my business, and if she
wants any thing that you cannot get her
you must let me know"
AS | went out of the house caught
faint red glow of the March sunset. shoot
ing up high enough to. show glimpse of
its splendor even to the jewellers ia brick
walls. Would little Brains see many more
| days decline? | longed to take her away
into the country and give her before she
died, one glimpse Of wde-stretching fields
OF sunsets, and sunrisings. But it was too
late. She was not well enough to be
moved, and if she should never get any bet
ter she would see a light before long such
as no sun ever kindled, breathe airs of heal
ing, smell flowers that grow not on any
earthly soil. Her country would be
brighter than any of her dreams-the land
that lies 'veiy far off"
The next day went to see her again. |
had not thought of going SO soon, but
spell seemed to draw me- 1t was reward
enough to see her poor little face brighten
| and her eyes grow eager with welcome
I when | went in. But she was no better.
She never would be, thought L asked
her mother what the doctor said, and she
answered me with burst of sobbing,
Il don't think he has much hope of her.
He thinks it might have been better fshe
had staid at home when she first got her
cold, but couldn't keep her. She was such
an ambitious child. Oh, ma am, if God
takes her, how shall bear it? Since her
father left me, little as she is, she's been
what depended on"
l could we'll understand it, The girl had
one of those natures on which weaker ones
rest instinctively. She was thoroughly reIia-
Bile, with a courage, patient hope, a quiet
strength, utterly out of proportion to her
tiny frame. / could not say ANYTHING to
console her poor mother. for knew too
well what she was losing, and it seemed
so idle to talk about heavenly consultations
to ears deaf with misery. The soul is so
seldom ready to accept them until after the
blow has fallen, and God himself speaks to
the stricken one through the darkness of
desolation, | could only say,
''We need not quite give her up yet, and
we ought to think of Der now--of making
her as comfortable as we can
Then went out again into the March
twilight
Every night after that found me at Pleas
ant Street. 1 could not stay away Be-
sides all my interest in her, an unaccounta-
BILE impression took possession of me that
she was III some wise associated with my
fate. L was going, 50 it seemed to me,
straight towards my destiny--a destiny, in
some dim, undreamed of way, connected
with Brains and her little room.
have said that from tie first | had not
much hope of her My hope lessened every
day. She would never come back to the
place had engaged another to fill till she
got we'll. | should never watch again her
tidy little ways, or be amused at her quaint
womanllness. had not thought that it
i was III me to care for her SO much, but my
heart grew heavy as saw her fading away
She suffered terribly with her racking cough,
and the constant wearing pain in her side
and chest; but she did not loose her bright
cheertuness. For long time, too, she CON
tlnued to make light of her Illness and tell
me that in little while she would be back
doing my errands as of old.
The first time she said any thing else was
one April night, | went to her little later
than usual, and found the doctor with her
had never seen him before, this DR.. John
Sargent. His name seemed somehow
strangely familiar though could not recall
at the moment where l had heard it, He
was bending over poor little Brains when |
went in, but he raised his head and met my
eyes with his own so kind, so pitiful SO Sc
rlous, that felt drawn towards him at once.
, The child put out her hand ''You'll have
to keep her Miss Macgregor," she sid with
a sad smile.
did not think at first who she meant,
and l asked her
/ ''Ihe girl that took my place, you know,