Orleans independent standard. [volume] (Irasburgh, Vt.) 1856-1871, 1870-10-25


cheeks. "0hl thank God, that l am
able to repay your kindness. Will
you go with me now? l have a car
riage at the door,"
To the astonishment Of little Sue,
the small maid in that small establish
ment, Miss Sarah Winchester drove
off in splendid style with the stranger,
and it was not twenty minutes after,
that the equipage stopped in front of
the tenement house.
"You must tell her-prepare her."
cried the daughter tremulously; "say
that I have brought home riches, and
she shall never suffer more. When
she is ready just hold a handkerchief
to the window and l will come"
Friend Sarah went in with a beam
ing face. Mrs. Clarke sat sewing,
or rather basting, with one of the
little children on her knee, while
near by another child, tidily dressed,
was overlooking the beautiful ma
chine with eyes full Of wonder. Seat
ed in a large, old rocking chair,
across the room, was the mother of
the two children, a sad serenity in
her eyes.
The widow was pale, but her face
looked like an Illuminated picture as
friend Sarah entered.
Il was just telling this little girl
that a good angel sent grandmamma
the machine" she said cheerfully,
"and this is the good angel my dear"
"If am a good angel for doing
thee this small service, I wonder
what thee will think of the good an
gel waiting outside"
The widow looked up puzzled and
then setting the child down, peered
through the window, seeing only some
way off a splendid carriage. and a
lady in soft garments.
"Frieud, thee must be very calm"
said Sarah, loosening her bonnet
strings, for she felt the blood rush
ing over her own face. "Some one
wishes to see thee-who also asks
thy forgiveness-wbo promises hence
forth to care for thee the rest Of thy
life, and to surround thee and thine
with blessings"
"Who can you mean ?' cried the
mother, with clasped hands. There
is but one who could ask my forgive
ness, and She"
rs here" cried low, rich, trem-
bling voice; for unable to bear the
suspense, the stranger had left the
carriage aud entered the miserable
house.
Mother. Annie" was the stimuli
taneous cry, and mother and child
were close clasped in each others
arms.
/ 1t did Eot take long to tell her
story. She had left her home in ar
ger, had fallen in with a family who
were going to California. and there
married a rich man, and according to
her glowing statement as good as he
was rich. Now she had returned to
make her mother and poor sister
comfortable for the rest of their days.
For the latter, it needed only to
smooth her passage to the grave, for
care and grief had done their work,
and she was fast Fastening where the
hectic, and the cough, and the wear
ing fever are unknown.
Annie took her mother to New
York, bought her a neat house and
furnished it. One day Friend Sarah
received a letter from the widow
Clarke, from which | make the follow
ing extract:
at seems as if from the moment !
made up my mind to trust God, bless.
ings multiplied. Annie is the kind
est daughter that ever lived; she is
everything to her poor dying sister
The little ones are hers now; she has
adopted them both and is like a ten
der mother to them. But what else
do you think | have to tell you
Benny has come home. He did not
die in that horrible Andersonville
prison. He has been very i'll in hos
pitfalls at the South; and unable tC
) get word to me; but here he is q
home, and rapidly becoming strong
under my care. And l have hearC
} from that other son-have learned
that he is steady and industrious, anC
! has given up all his wild habits.
at was only week ago that 4;
! carriage drove up, and as | went t.
r the door in the twilight, somethin!
| tall, thin, and covered with mon
5 strous beard, it seemed to me, caugh
g me in his arms, crying out-'Mother
e don't you know me ?"
S "WelI. | had given him up, burie'
= him long ago; and there. he was
= from the graves mouth-my owI
: brave boy-it seemed to me that
could see sweet little Lottie, he
V hair hanging round her like a golde
e glory, and the lustre of a great jo
!. shining in her beautiful eyes. Th
u vision, if vision it was, lasted but
/ momentj yet, oh it was very swee
h | thought of the time when, befor
;, she died, she told me that my chile
a ren would be blessings to me, and
appears now like a prophecy.
IS You will not fail to come and sc
d us-you, who under God, seem t
], have been the means of bringing I
r. all these blessings, who first taugl
d me the meaning Of the word Trust