The Kenosha telegraph. [volume] (Kenosha, Wis.) 1860-1888, 1869-02-04

stopped at the almshouse an attenuated
form was lifted up and carried in, and
the wagon rumbled away. This was Lucy
Dutton, brought to her native town to
die.
She had been in decline for some months
and the miraculous strength which had SO
long sustained her in her weary wander
ings forsook her utterly. Her sister had
died some time before. and the widowed
husband had soon after removed to the
far West SO Lucy had no friends, no home
but the almshouse.
One day about week from the time of
her arrival, Lucy appeared to suffer great
ly, and those about her looked for her re-
lease almost impatiently but at night
she was evidently better, and for the first
time she slept TRANQUILITY till morning.
The matron, who was by her bedside when
she awoke, was stratled by the clear and
earnest gaze which met her own; but she
smiled and babe the invalid "Good morn
ing" to reassure her, when she exclaim ed:
"Where am [ and who are you? do not
know you"
A wild surmise flashed across the mind
of the matron the long lost reason Of the
wanderer had returned. But the good
woman replied calmly and soothingly:
"Why, you are among your friends and
you will know me presently"
''Then maybe you know Edwin and FL
len," rejoined the invalid; "they have
come ? Oh, had such terrible dream
dreamed that they were married! Only
think, Ellen married to Edwin! Strange
4 s. Al. Il. L. Id
"My poor Lucy" said the matron with
a gush of tears, shat was no dream twas
all true" aa ~ i.'5 le
GAIL true!' cried the invalid "then
Edwin must be untrue, and that cannot
be, for he loves me we love each other
well, and Ellen is my sister Let me see
them will go to them"
She endeaY0red to raise herself, but fell
back fainting on the pillow.
What does this mean ?" said She
"what makes me so weak?"
Just then her eye fell on her hand
that old and withered hand She gazed
on it in blank amazement.
Something is the matter with my
sight" she said. smiling family, "for my
hands look like an old woman's.
"And so it is, said the matron gently,
''and SO are mine; yet we had fair, plump
hand when we were young. Dear Lucy,
do you know me f? am Maria Allen-I
was to have been yonr bridesmaid"
can not say more-I will not make the
vain attempt to give in detail all that
mournful revealing-to reduce to express
sive words the dread sublimity of that
hopeless sorrow.
To the wretched Lucy, the last thirty
years were as though they had never. Of
not scene, nor an incident, had she the
slightest remembrance, since the Iecreant
and traitorous lover stood before her and
made that terrible announcement
The kind matron paused frequently in
the sad narrative of her poor friendsmad-
ness and wanderings, but the invalid
would say with fearful calmness-"Go on,
go on though the drops of agony stood
thick upon her forehead When she ask
ed for her sister the matron replied
''She has gone before you, and your
father also.'
"And my mother ?" said Lucy, her face
lit up with a sickly ray OF hope
4 "Your mother has been dead twenty
years"
'Dead All gone Alone, old, dying
oh, God, my cup of bitterness is full
and she only wept aloud.
Her friend bent over her, and mingling
her tears with hers, said affectionately
l"But you know who drank that cup be-
fore your"
Lucy looked up with a bewildered ex
preston and the matron added: "The
i LORD Jesus; you remember him"
A look like sunlight breaking through
a cloud, a, look which only saints may
wear, irradiated the fearful face OF the
dying woman, as she replied =
/ ooh, yes, know Him and loved Him
before fell asleep"
The man of God was called. A few
who had known Lucy in her early day!
came also. There was much reverentla
feeling and some weeping around hel
death-bed Then rose the voice of pray
er. At first her lips moved as her weak
spirit joined in that fervent appeal. Their
they grew still, and poor Lucy was dead
dead in her gray haired youth. Those
who gazed on that placid fact and remem
bered her harmless life and patient sui
fering, doubted not that the morn of al
eternal day had broken on her Might o
years.