The Fremont weekly journal. [volume] (Fremont, Sandusky County, Ohio) 1867-1877, 1872-10-25

03 Ao oAoOO
said. ''He's got to be a real heath
en-, worse than the ones he lives with
for he knows better. He's righ
clever, Abner is; and was so seri
ously inclined. But he's took K
strange gods, and you're well rid o.
him. 1 tell you, you might be glad.
Somehow I wasn't glad. No,
vas all the more sorry.
One day in March, coming home
from market 1 lived with a board
ing-house-woman then J, Imet Rosy,
the laundress at Brier Bridges, and
fell to questioning her eagerly about
my boy.
You wouldn't believe, having only
known him three little days, how 1
hungered after him; how many's the
time I've tramped out to Brier Bird
ges and hung about the road in
hopes Of seeing him, but never did.
l saw Abner, and hid from him, but
never my Brightest.
"He's got nurse-oh, yes, an
old one, such as they had before.
He's never had but the two, unless
we count you in. The first-she
had him from a baby. He never
took to her; still she was good
enough, but she up and died. Then
they tried you-now this one. Thst
was a great mistake you made
talking religion to such a baby"
81 didn't talk religion exactly" I
answered. 81 only told hlm the sto-
ry Of the Saviour. 1 didn't mean to
disobey orders, I'm sure 1 didn't
Nor did l at all understand what
they believed or what they wanted
of me. Still I can't be sorry, even
though the end was what it is, and l
hope he doesn't forget"
"He does though, they've put it all
out of his mind. They took good
care Of that. You see he has an
uncle sea-captain. He goes to
Spain, and has brought Bright ever
so many pretty things from there
and from the sea. They told him it
was Spain you meant, and Christ is
a Spanish prince. You didn't get
the story right, and it wasn't worth
remembering. They could tell him
heaps of stories pretties than that.
They did,. too, and he forgot all
about what you told him, depend
upon it,"
The second anniversary of the
three days spent at Brier Bridges
found me working in a mill. NV
health was very miserable, the noise
hurting my head so 1 hardly had
time to get over it and sleep a little
at night before going back into it
again.
At last came an evening 1 never
forget. It was the twenty fourth of
December = Christmas Eve = and
close upon six o'clock. All the girls
we're buzzing about the morrow, on
y l was silent, and feeling more and
more as if every shuttle beat my
brains, and all the wheels and pullies
were bruising my bones, when sud
denly / heard a voice inquiring for
Prosy Potter. 1t put life into me at
once, for it was .Abner's voice, lost
to me months on months before.
"Little grille" he said, in just the
old way, you don't forget meY'
l have no recollection of what I
but he took possession Of
me at once, put on my hood and
shawl, and led me out into the snow
5trewn street.
"Prosy," he said, "Pve been a
'raitor to my God and you; if you
,orgive me l can hope He will.
He had found me all weak and
weary; life came with his coming;
what else could l do but forgive2
Then most gently he told his er-
and. Bright Ray was sick-dying
hey feared-and had asked to see
Prosy Potter-would Igo?
We started at once, my anxious
leart flying on the wings ofthe wind
before me.
"Mrs. Ray, here is Prosy."
She was on the sofa, with her
beautiful hair all wild about her
shoulders and her face buried in her
hands. She raised when Abner
spoke and came toward me.
''Prosy Potter, she said, searching
ny face with strange eyes and all a
Mothers anguish in her tones, 'if
you have any power 1 have not,
money has not, save my childp'
1 had for answer only a few broken
words, and whether she clung to
ne, and together we went to the bed
'ide of my boy.
He was lying like a storm beaten
lily, my precious one, my Brightest,
lis golden hair astray on the pillow,
lis sweet eyes half closed, his parted
ips blue and cold. A great agony
mote me and for the moment turned
ne blind, for I knew the shadow of
he Death Angels wing was over
lin.
"You cannot save him anymore
han l can" spoke Mrs. Ray in
loarse whisper, clutching my arm
md reading my face with her great
,laring eyes. "Where is the God
Iou boast of?''
"Save him and you shall have half
# what l own," said Mr.. Ray on
he other sideof me.
at rests with Heaven" 1 answer
d.
"Prosy, come. I want Prosy; I
Tant her to tell me-tell me" He
topped-the frosts of death blurred
he window opening into the past
the story and him-my
,reath warmed it away with kisses.
Tell you what, my darling" press
ng my Hps again and again to the
Weet, cold mouth.
He opened his eyes and looked at
ne With a radiant, recognizing smile.
About the beautiful Christ-child;
here never was a story like that
tory; take me up in your arms and
ell it to me again"
''Before I could answer, or ask
cave to try to raise him, he dropped |
gain into Inconsistencies. The |
who had not left him once
uring his four days sickness, check
d Mrs. Rays outcry with a few,
amt words of encouragement.
The distant city clocks tolled the |
low hours away. By and by the