Yorkville enquirer. [volume] (Yorkville, S.C.) 1855-2006, 1872-09-12

lady had given me, bearing the name and ad-
dress of her daughter, who kept boarding.
house. That remembrance decided me if |
could find lodging at that place, would re-
main overnight in Lancaster.
There were plenty Of conveyances around
the depot, and summoning a driver, to me, l
showed him the card, and asked him if he
knew the address.
"Certainly, mum, take you there in ten
minutes; Mrs. Elwoods clearinghouse ;qui-
ct place, but excellent accommodations"
Thus assured, entered his carriage, and
he fulfilled his promise by setting me down,
after short drive, in front Of two-story
frame house, whose quiet, orderly appearance
made it look very unlike a boarding-house.
A clearinghouse it proved to be, however,
and in the land.lady, Mrs. Elwood-who
came to me after had waited while in the
parlor-I traced at once so strong resem-
blance to my old Quaker friend as to con-
vince me had found the place [ sought.
AS she was leading me up stairs to my
room, ventured to state that had met her
mother two years before, and had formed q
travelling acquaintance with her.
Mrs. Ellwoods pleasant smile upon hearing
this, encouraged me to ask if her mother was
living with her, adding that I should be
pleased to renew the acquaintance if she was.
The reply was in the affirmative.
"You will meet her at dinner, which will
be served at two, and she will be glad enough
to have chat with you, I'll venture to say"
1 wrote out my telegram to father, and
Mrs. Elwood promised to have it attended to
at once for me; then, after doing everything
for me that kindness could suggest, she left
me to the rest was beginning very much to
feel the need of.
A tidy-looking little maid came to me when
the dinner-bell rang, to show me the way to
the dining.room and there the first person |
saw was my little old lady, already seated
near the upper end of the long table.
She bowed and smiled when she saw me,
but we were too far apart to engage in any
conversation. After the meal was over she
Joined me, shook hands very cordially, and
invited me to come and sit with her in her
own room.
was glad to accept the invitation, for in
my loneliness the kind face Of this chance &C.
quaintance seemed almost like that Of friend;
and soon-in one of the easiest Of low-cushion-
ed chairs, in one of the coziest of old lady
apartments-I was seated, talking more cheer
fully and unreservedly than 1 had talked
since my baby's DEATH
I expressed some surprise that she had re-
cognized me so promptly, to which she re-
piled:
II had always a good memory for faces,
though names I am apt to forget; when my
daughter spoke to me about thee, could not
at all recall thee to mind-yet as soon as thee
entered the dining-room remembered thee"
"And yet do not look much like [ did
two years ago." I said, sadly.
"That is true, my dear thee has altered
very much. I almost wonder now that l
should have recognized thee so promptly.
Thee has seen trouble, I fear," she added,
gently touching my black dress.
"Yes," said, II have had both sickness
and death to battle with I neither look nor
feel much like the thoughtless, happy bride
whom you met two years ago."
"Is it thy husband who has been taken from
thee?"
"Oh no, no, no." 1 cried, the ready tears
rising to my eyes ;"I don't think l could have
lived if had lost him. 1t was my baby
who died-that was hard enough; the dearest
little blue-eyed darling you ever saw-just ten
months DID,
My old friend s face betrayed her sympathy,
as she sat silently waiting for me to regain
my composure. After little while she said,
signing:
"It is hard to lose child, whether young
or old. can fully sympathize with thee in
thy trouble, for I, too, have lost son since l
last saw thee, though wear no outer garb as
a badge of my bereavement"
looked at her, little surprise mingling
with the sympathy I tried to express.
81 thou ght remembered your telling me
you had but one son ?"
"That was ALL" she said, sorrowfully.
"God never gave me but the one, and him He
has taken away"
I stared at her now in undisguised aston
ishment.
"Was not that gentleman-surely, madame,
I was not mistaken in thinking the conduct
or-the gentleman who brought you into the
cars when we met two years ago-was your
son ?"
"You are right; he was the son of whom I
have spoken"
"The one-eyed man~ I'gasped, forgetting
delicacy in astonishment.
The old lady flushed little.
eyes, friend, I understand whom thee
means; my poor Robert had lost the sight of
his left eye.''
"I saw that man this morningw cried.
ri saw him from the car window, before we
entered Lancaster! What strange misunder-
standing is this ?"
Thee has mistaken some one else for him,
that is ALL" said my companion, gravely.
"My boy thee could not haveseen, for he died
fifteen months ago the 18th of this month.
He died of cholera, after only two days ILL
ness. Thee could not have seen Robert.
II did, thought did," cried, excitedly;
and then 1 related to her the whole incident,
dwelling particularly upon the signal l had
seen him make-a signal 1 had never seen but
once before in my life, and then made by him
when he explained it to me. "1 was not mis-
taken," concluded; II could not be; your
son was not an ordinary looking man, and l
remember his appearance distinctly. Surely
as sit here, saw this morning the man who
you tell me died fifteen months ago.
The old lady looked white and frightened,
while, as for me, was growing so hyster;cal
with bewiderment and excitement, that she
would allow me to pursue the subject no fur
ther
She led me to my room, and persuaded me
to lie down-leaving me then, for she was her
self too much agitated by the conversation
we had had to be able to soothe or quiet me.
l saw her no more that day. I did not 60
down to tea, for the restless night [ had passed
in conjunction with the excitement Of the day,
rendered me so seriously unwell, that l was
not able to rise until a late hour the following