The Wyandot pioneer. (Upper Sandusky, Ohio) 1853-1868, 1868-05-21

bear to keep 1t. And she knows
what it is to loose what you've sot
on keepin, she says our baby's dead
now
Mrs. Gringe grabbed the parrot.
Your mother is a good woman,'
she said, 'and you're a good boy. I
think | promised half q dollar for
Poll, but I'll you what, you shall
come and see her when you like
that'll be better. Good night.
And the door shut, and locks and
bars were fastened; and Mrs Gringe
took Polly up stairs, fed her, kissed
her and slep with one hand on the
cage.
She grew better from that hour,
and was about again in a week at
furthest. so
But poor Perkins, what with damp
and too much beer, and great deal
of trouble about food and fuel, and
rags for the children, went down hill
very fast; lost his health entirely,
and at last died and was rid Of this
worlds care, The eldest boy died,
The eldest girl went to service, and
Dave, the third, took up his faith
er's trade and tried to feed the child
ern and their mother. In the years
that had gone by, he had grown to
be young man, a good hearted,
hopeful sort of youth who had scrap
ed a little knowledge of books to-
gether at odd times, he had thoughts
of corner shoe store, to be
possessed at some future time. Yet,
after all, sickly as wretched fare,
and'a succession of fireless winters
could make him, weak at the chest,
STOPPING at the shoulders, and with
limp that came from a nights hard
freezing Of a foot.
Only a pretty pinched face, and a
pair of big blue eyes to recommend
him and with hands full enough al
ready with providing for his ready
made family.
Consequently, Cupid, who de-
lights in mischief, threw in his way
a pretty, lovely girl of sixteen, Gre
ated grand passion, not always ex-
pressed in the most grammatical
language, but very deep, and mar
ried the two after three months
courtship.
The garret was Paradise at first
The shoemaker happier than Adam
in his happiest hours. Even when
bread ran short, and butter was not.
upon the table. the two could smile
though the mother wondered why
Dave should marry when the fried
pork never went round before.
And Dave, to mend matters work
ed harder and broke down, and the
corner store loomed in the distance
no longer; and twins came, and lit
tie Dawes and Armies one after the
other; and if the shoemaker had Ia
ken to beer, he might have lived his
fathers life, ard died his fathers
death.
But he fought on, sober always,
gentle always, loving always to the
faded woman he called his wife,
sickly, STOPPING shoemaker, but
more a man than thousands with
burly frames, and broad chests, and
mighty bank accounts after all.
Sometimes better and more pros
porous, sometimes poorer and on
his back again; he lived and strugg-
eled until at last, great misfortune
happened to him. Heaven knows
how, he drove an awl into his right
hand, and stopped his work out
right.
For month, perhaps, and in that
time what might not happen, starva-
ton, the poor-house, nothing too
terrible to come.
The last ray of hope was gone,
when, one, night, the shoemaker
groaned:
Tomorrow I must beg or see
them die and hid his face, too
heart rt-broken even to pray.
It was midnight, but he sat, from
force of habit, near the empty stove
with his wife on the other side
weeping and rocking, and neither of
them heard foot coming up the
stairs, until some one knocked at
the door.
Who is there p asked the wife.
And voice answered:
i want Dave Perkins. I've been
sent for him by woman that is dy-
ing. Can he come.
Somewhat of q. fright stole into
the wifes mind, and she cried, hold
ing him fast:
No, you can't go, Dave
But he put her aside gently, and
opened the door.
who is it wants me?' he asked.
And the man said.
i don't know her name I only
came the errand woman sent me.
Dave put on his hat.
'I'll go with you he said. 1T may
be some old neighbor, Annie
He followed the guide through
the dark streets to house he seem
ed to remember plainly, though
who's it was he could not have said,
it appeared to the shoemaker that
this night had been drempt of be-
fore. The dark door, the dripping
rain, and the light in an upper win
dow were SO strangely familiar, even
the click of bolts and locks ere it
was opened.
A woman admitted him and led
him up stairs, and when they went
on tiptoe to another door and beck
oned him in.
And David Perkins, awe-stricken
ed, paused and saw picture.
A woman on the bed with one
hand grasping parrots cage, two
gentlemen standing at the foot,
looking solemnly upon the changing
face upon the pillow, and, in the
cage parrot, green and one-eyed.
Mrs. Gringe and Polly.