Mineral Point tribune. (Mineral Point, Wis.) 1869-1938, 1869-07-31

nae but when | lifted up my ewes
ana saw the heavens so full OF pity
ing stars, and the tender-eyed moon
almost weeping over me, l thought
there IS somebody uo there that toiiL
udtch Orer me and care for me.
Then 1 looked up to the window
of the room where Lucy was sleep
ing, asked the mercifui Father To
keep her always as sweet, and inno-
cent, and pure, then opened the
gate and was gone.
"I'll never forget that night as
long as L live. / have thought of
1t all day, and / always think of it
such night as this.
well, | saw the sun rise at last,
and welcome sight enough il was to
me for then the sleighs began to
pass over the road, and / got q ride
now and then, which carried me
farther and farther from the only
being in the world l either hated or
feared
AT lastIventured to call at farm
house and ask for bit of breai. The
woman spoke kindly to me, al the
old farmer pushed ME a chair D the
blazing fire. | had hardly sat down
before | was fast asleep. The coun-
try people are good to the poor-and
they were good to me. They saw /
was friendless and footsore, and they
had pity on my youth. / told them
my story, keeping back nothing
and they believed me, for they were
honest themselves.
II stayed with them until spring,
when my master went to find Lucy,
but came back with the sad news
that the Doctors family had gone to
the city and taken Lucy with them.
l couldn't keep quiet until / set out
for Boston, although the good peo-
pie where I was promised me every
thing if would only remain with
, them in their Old age. But l thought
only of my darling, and my longing
to see her again. So | went away,
and with begging and living out a
few months at time, managed to
reach Boston about three years after
left the poor-farm.
81 had never lived in a village,
much less had / ever seen a city. |
had never dreamed there could be
miles of houses as there had been
miles of woods, and that / could be
more friendless in the wilderness of
streets than / had been in the forests
of the country.
"But SO it was and my head grew
giddy with all its noise and confu-
sion, and as L went about in my
scared way, asking for DR.. Smiths
family, is no wonder people thought
me dazed, and passed me by.
"a last a policeman found me up
on the stone steps of a stone build
ing where l had sunk down dis
couraged and weeping. l was given
a nights lodging at the station
house, and the next day / began to
wander again and offer myself for
service.
81 did not keep idle long, for was
willing to work, and honest then, as
now. But it ism t much matter how
hard we labor, it isn't eAsy for the
like of us to earn more than enough
[ tOiled both early and late, / could
who / was sure [ should some time
find again.
~ never went into the streets
without thinking to see her-never
passed pretty, fair face without a
Hutter at my heart. | did not know,
then, that one might live in the
same city with another, and never
meet.
''Well, what with labor, and pin
ing, and poverty, was hard look
ing girl enough, it must be confessed; !;
but l was virtuous and upright, and
not one to be ashamed of. I had
many temptations, as all ineXpHi
enced girls have, but l had always
said IWiU neUer DO anything that
aoiU make Lucy blush to oWn me and
| never.
"One day (here Margie drew her
breath hard and long) l went to an
sweT my mistress bell, and who
should see sitting in the parlor with
the best of them, elegant in silks and
laces, but my own sister Lucy.
81 had forgotten how old / had
grown until | saw her 80 tall and
elegant looking-but / should have
known her eyes, and lips, ,and peachy
complexion, the world over o,
Miss, forgot every thing but that l
had found my dazzling / threw my
self upon her neck, clasped her to
my heart, end was sObbing with joy,
when she-She hre,o me from her as
III had been q viper.
20, Margie,", / cried, dropping
down on my knees beside her
you loving her so !"
lSut SiiI S%li tildt--oftt Utt
/ thought she did not know me, and
/ cried out
g i am Margie-your sister Mar
gie-my darling has forgotten her
long lost sister.'
IA scornful smile, such as 1 never
snW. She rose, took the arm of
gentleman friend, and retired like a
queen, leaving me dumb with grief
and amaZement.
MY mistress was very angry at
what she called my stupid mistake !;
and as my heart was broken, 1 did
not care to undeceive her. If Lucy
could do without me, must try and
do without her and when / looked
into the glass and saw how coarse
and vulgar L was in contrast to her,
l did not SO much wonder that she
could not own me before them all and
the gentleman whose wife she was
to be.n
"But you met her again, Margie ?"
"Never. / am now only anxious
to avoid her as l had been to find
her. Sometimes I see her riding in
her carriage with her husband and
child, but she never sees me. But it
doesn't make any difference now: 1
am wearing out, and it doesn't mat
te. how soon / go!
"Ihere, child, that Is all-now go
up stairs-qulck, quick ~
Thank you, Margie, said cling
ing 20 her neck, but she shook me
off and thrust me into the hall and
/ heard a sob as she closed the door.
Poor, dear Margie, I said to my
self; if mamma only knew how sore
your heart is, she would forgive all