Delaware tribune. [volume] (Wilmington, Del.) 1867-1877, 1868-01-02

her. Around some i.ding embers on tn,
hearth the family were gathered. Johr
Pearson, no longer the hale, hearty man
decently clothed, and Boosting of his snut
hoard in the savings bank, sat, with hi
elbows on his knees, looking moodily into
the fire. His wife, with many low sgf
and furtive glance towards him, rocked ant
hushed her fretful baby; and two or three
fair-haired little girls huddIed together to
listen to ghost story, told with evident guste
by an intclligent-looking boy of twelve,
whose frost-bitten hands and feet were
swathed in bandages. They all started up
when the tall figure darkened the doorway,
but 1t was only the mothers quick eye that
recognized the long g-absent one. Dropping
the babe into the lap of the boy, she pushed
the other children aside and came forward.
calling, in Joyful tones, to her husband
"Why, father, father, see it's our Lucy,
God bless her How she have grown, to be
sarel"
The mothers heart beat as warmly In the
miserable cottage as ever good
Queens in her palace, and Lucy was fondy
hugged and cried over ere she could salute
her father, and address the hushed and tmid
little ones. With baby eagerly claimed, and
Tapped beneath her soft, warm shawl, she
drew the Others to her knee, and tried to
speak cheerfully.
"They do not know mel" she cried, as
she pressed her lips to the faces shyly raised
to her own, "No one remen bers me but
Johnny, y,-poor Johnnie land it is so dark
that can scarcely see any of you."
'No," said the mother, looking uncasiy
towards her husbad we must have light
and fire. o John, the poor child is shiv-
ering with the cold, and she aint used to il,
Can't us have bit O. fire to warm her p
Pearson turned away from the beseeching
look with nod, and left the cottage; but
when he reached the door of the empty
wood-shed,he leaned against it, and groan-
ed heavily. A loaf In the cupboard, to serve
for the mornings meal, was all they had in
the shape of food, and Heaven only knew
weere more was to be procured. Firing
there was none, for every stray chip had
been raked together to warm his chilled
limbs when he came In from the fields, an
hour previously. Bitter, indeed, is that
poverty which may not welcome home a
beloved child! Lucy had always been so
generous and thoughtful in forwarding part
of her earnings, that her parents, to save
her from grieying and repining, had stoical-
ly withheld the worst of their trials, and
rejoiced that one, at least, of their offspring
was spared the keen pangs of hunger. But
now she had come to see and know for her.
self the depth of distress into which they
had fallen, and Pearson, in his pride and
natural regret, felt that he could have for
borne the gladness Of beholding her to have
spared her the shame and grief of witnessing
their changed fortunes. But he reused him
self presently, and returned to the cottage
with such an armful of sticks that the little
ones cried out in wonder, and were only
silenced but his stern "Hush" aud appraised
hand. 5. aN-
Lucy's heart was full already; and when
the blaze betrayed the pinched faces of the
children, and the haggard looks of her pa
rents, she knew not how to repress her grief;
but she turned upon them bright face and
a hopeful smile, until the reason of her com
ing was asked The sick child on whom she
had been In attendance was dead AL that
wealth snd skill could devise had proved un-
availing Lucy's services were no longer re-
qulred: but previous to seeking another
situation, she had resolved TO visit her long
unseen friends; and then the tears flowed
freely. She wept 80 long that the mother
began jealousy to wonder,in her own mind,
if Lucy would have "took on" so had she
been at home when the girl next to her in
age had the fever and died. Poor woman,
she did not guess how long the "coming
home" had been the dream of Lucy life, DOR
how loving remembrance of that pretty
home, of fathers cheerful smiles as he work
ed in the garden, amid the gay dower-beis;
of the hum of the bees, the honeysuckle in
the hedge, and the merry song of mother as
she sat working in the porch, had been dwet
upon and thirsted for, in far distant and per-
haps more beautiful scenes.
"She's tired out, said Pearson, with a
shrewd guess at what was passing in his
childs Thoughts; stake her to bed, mother"
Mrs. Pearson looked at him helplessy.
''Take her to bed, say!' her husband
repeated; 'she can sleep wi you tonight,
and I'll make shift somehow"
The wife cast doleful glance at the damp
bricks, and the old sack that was carpet,
hearthrug, and all; but the same sense of
shame which had hitherto kept her silent
made her lead her daughter away without
remonstrance, and hope that, as there was
a good fire, he would contrive to keep him
self dry and warm. A crust off the loaf at
daybreak, draught of water from the pail
at the door, and John Pearson, stiff and
aching with the rheumatism which had con-
tinually tormented him since he came to
Patchet Mead, plodded away to his work;
and Lucy, glad to exchange the close cham
ber for the fresher air without, started up
to see what she could do to better the con-
dition of her family. Nothing could make
cottage at Patchet Mead fit for dwelling
house; but it wore cheerier aspect than 1t
had ever assumed before when John Pear
son came home to dinner, and sat down to
discuss a. savory stew with the zest half
famished man brings to meal. And Lucy
stood and watched him as he ate, and nurs-
ed the baby, when her mother supplied the
wants of the other children. .I-
"You'll get away from here, father" she
said, ''as soon as we can hear of better
cottage; and, please God, there will be no
more of these dark days. 1t isn't much I've
saved from my wages"
"Child, how could you, when you've done
so much for us ?" her mother interposed,
'It isn't much I've saved" Lucy went on;
''but, besides my mourning, Mr.. aud Mrs.
Spencer gave me, when came away,a five
pound note, with kind words that were
worth as much-to me, mean," shc added,
smiling, and tossing the baby. Gas for the