Oxford Democrat. [volume] (Paris, Me.) 1833-1933, 1870-07-29

her hair grow-anu never 81 Such nalr
on anybody in my life-like yellow gold
almost.
All. dear Lord-well. it's a comfort TO
think of her in heaven, aud almost the
only comfort I've got too. know she
can't suffer. Eor make me suffer-" she
added, with half savage energy.
"But what became of the rest of thy
children?"
A bitter look crossed the careworn face
They grew up-two boys and two
girls. Lottie said they would be a com.
fort 10 me, but I've looked and looked for
that, and not found it yet.
Mary and Ann We're handsome girls,
but Mary did the same thing with her
eyes open. that had done ignorantly-
she married drunkard, and is living in
New York in worse misery than am.
But warned her and don't know as Id
help her if | could. Why did she put
herself deliberately in the fire? She writes
me sometimes, but she's always worse of
and worse off and now there is n pros
pcect of her going into consumption
She has two little children to live in mis-
cry, suppose"
AT this moment the postman tapped at
the door. He brought a letter. The
widow tore it open eagerly, read it. and
burst into tears.
"Wcll-oh it's only more trouble. l
have been expecting it. There's never
good news comes to me-" she cried de-
family. They talk of God remember.
ing all his children-no, no-He's clean
forgotten me. He cares nothing for me.
"Oh. l cannot hear thee talk So" cried
her visitor. in distressed voice.
"Of course not. because you know
nothing Of the misery that is killing me by
inches, day after day. l dare say you
have pleasant home. and everything to
make you happy. What should you say
if you held in your hand letter telling
you that your daughter writes from a sick
bed, that her husband died last week,
and asking in Gods name. for shelter
with her mother, for herself and two
miserable children. am in such beauti-
ful circumstances you see-barely earn
bread enough for myself"
"Do try and trust God, my poor sister.
He has sent me here, and pledge thee
my word will do all can 10 help thee
and thy child. There there" she said
soothingly, for the woman had relapsed
into piteous weeping-more At the kind.
sweet tone of sympathy than for her own
trouble She got so little OF it, poor soul.
II didn't tell you about my boys, one
of them followed the ways Of his father"
she said after n short pause. land Is a
wandercr know not where. The other,
my noble. my brave boy Benny-went
into the army. and the last | heard of him
was that he died \. Aadersonvile. Oh .
that broke my heart, The poor boy went
into the army to help his country: for
work fell slack. and just before that we
we were getting along SO nicely. Some
times lie awake nights. thinking OF him
till AIN nearly crazy. OH would have
gone in the midst of danger. only to see
him before he died; but the good Lord
of heaven only knew whether he starved
to death or went mad; they tell such
horrible stories you know. Then there's
| Anuc-she left ME because | would not
let her have anything to DO with wild
young man who wanted TO keep her COM
pany. One day we had high words, and
she said things no child should say to a
mother. | told her to leave my house.
Heaven knows they were thoughtless
words, but she went The next day she
was not to be found, nor have heard from
her from that day TO this. All that was
year of suffering travelled after her, |
advertised-l wore myself sick-but she
was gone. lost, perhaps, in more terrible
ways than that one Of running away from
home.
There you have all my history; but
YOU can't know, only from the words |
spcak-you never could know-what aw.
full anguish | have suffered; and that has
made my hair turn gray before | am IN
old woman. Would you believe that
am only iorty-one? and every year OF
that life has known something OF the
bitterest anguish. Do You wonder that
say and feel that have been deceived
from my youth up?-that have no faith
in God?n
"But never. never lose faith in Him,
my friend" said tho visitor, in fearful
earnest. Remember what He has OF
thine in keeping. and can thee not trus,
One who has taken to His own heaven
the good and pure child"
.'You have given me comfort murmur-
ed the pale seamstress "Others have
been so cold and mercenary, seeming to
look on me as if | were Il machine, little
dreaming that l have known as well as
themselves what it was to have some
Iluxuries at my command, an elegant
home, aud kind father. But l know ii
is wrong to mourn so; something tells me
| should be less rebellious, and so hap
pier. You see, however, that one trouble
comes crowding on another. Now, in