The Placer herald., 1872-11-16
NUMBER 13.

stayed him, SAYING "Gin ye Haze travelled
a the way fra India, ye maun be tired and
hungry. Bide hit and eat and drink wi US.
Marcy, come down, and let US set ON the
supper
The two women soon prepared quite
sumptuous repast, and all three sat down to
it, Mrs. Anderson, rcverenty asking a bless
ing. But the merchant could not eat. He
was only hungry for his mothers kisses, only
thirsty for her joyful recognition yet he could
not bring himself to say to her. 81 am your
son." He asked of himself, half grved,
half amused, "where are the natural instincts
| have read about in novesF'
His hostess seeing he did not eat, kindly
asked if he could suggest anything he would
be likely to relish, 81 thank you, madam,
he answered, "it does seem to me that 1
should like some oatmeal porridge, such as
my mother used to make, if SO be YOU had
any"
"Porrdge?' repeated the widow. "Ah,
he means paritch. Yes, hae' little left frae
our dinner. Gle it to him, Margery. But
mon, guess it is cauld.
"Never mind; know | shall like it, he
reoned, taking the bowl and beginning TO
stir the poridge with his spoon. As be did
so, Mrs. Anderson gave a start and bent
eagerly toward him, then sank back in her
chair with sigh, saying in answer to his
questioning look. "Ye minded me Of my NAL
come then; just in that way he used to stir
his parch-giving it whrl and fir.
All, gin ye were my puir laddie!"
''Weel then, gin were Malcome, said the
merchant, speaking for the first time in the
Scottish dialect, and in his own voice, cor
gin yer boy were brown, and gray, and bent
and old as | am, could you welcome him TO
your arms and love him as in the auld lang
syne? Could you, mither ?"
All through this touching little speech the
widows eyes had been glistening, and her
breath coming fast, but at the word "mher,"
she sprang up with cry, tottering to her son,
and fell almost flinting on his breast. He
kissed her; kissed her brow, and her lips,
and her hands, and the big tears slid down
his bronzed cheeks, while she clung about
his neck and called him by all the pet names
and tried to see in him the dear young looks.
By-and-by they came back, or the ghosts of
hem came back The form in her embrace
grew comelier; love and joy gave it t second
youth, stately and gracious; the first che then
and there buried deep in her heart, sweet,
beautiful, peculiar memory. 1t was mo-
ment Of sweet remuneration in which she gave
up the fond material illusion she had cher
ishcd SO long. Then looking up suddenly in
to the face of the middle aged man who had
taken the place, she said:
"Where hae ye lett the wife and the
barns?"
sat the inn, motLer. Have you room
for us at the cottage?"
"lndeed | have-two guide spare rooms
wi large closets, weel stacked wi linen l
have been spinning or weaving a there lang
years for ye bath and the weans. y
"Well, mother, dear, now you must rest"
lejoned the merchant tenderly.
INA, ma | dinna care to rest. There will
be time enough between that day and the
resurrection to fauld my arms in idlcness.
Now 'twould be unco' iIksome. But 60 my
son, and bring me the wife. hope shall
like her; and the bairns, hope they will like
me-"
l have only to say that both the hope of
the good woman were realized. a very
happy family knelt down in prayer that
night, and many nights after, in the widows
cottage. whose climbing roses and woodbines
were but outward signs and types of the
sweetness and blessedness of the peace and
love within.