The Kenosha telegraph. [volume] (Kenosha, Wis.) 1860-1888, 1872-10-03
OUT OF THE DEEP.
BY GEORGE s. BURLEIGH.

hO SiS III u udppy CulluuOOu W Ouc
who has never been . happy child is sad
der than solitary misery. So felt little
Jenny Wray, one bright September morn
ing, as she saw the boys and girls flock
by to the fields for merry day at hazel
nutting. Jenny was fifteen; but you
would have thought her of some unknown
maturity ofyears, her face was so sad and
marked by the sorrows that stood there
where laughter and light hopes are used
to play on young faces. A good laugh is
fine thing to shape little face, and the
way to make child lovely 10 to show
love to it. But Jenny suffered more than
he herself could say fer the want of love;
for her poor mother was dead, and her
father was 30 often drunk that what kind
ness he might have had was all burnt out
of him, so that the poverty in which she
grew up was the least of her griefs
Ii her good uncle had lived, she often
thought she could be happy too, and a
child among children.-B 1t he had been
gone so long that it seemed he must have
been lost; for he was a sailor, and came to
them from strange lands with wonderful
gifts. And now as she sat weeping by
the hedge-side, too full of her cares to
follow he happy children .arAong the
hazsl-nut bushes, the DID, old memory Of
him came up, and the two or thrss times
that she had seen him, long ago. seemed
like the Christmas days of little folks, a
great many very happy days. She didn't
think that the thin fingers of her right
hand were enough tO'couns them all on ;
nor that the nine long years since he had
appeared were really so few.
! She gathered her faded plaid shawl
about her shoulders and watched the mer-
ry children, as if they were another sort
( OF people, living in another sort of world
where the sunshine could warm their lit
: tie hearts, while she was alone and chill
ly ta
She had heard enough of what is laugh
h In Sunday schools to know there was |
Great Power over us all but even in thi
e land OF Sunday schools she had suffered
so muce that she began to wonder il tina
. Great Power was a loving Father, WIZ
Q cared at all for miserable girl like her
That name of father had lost its sweetness
d so much that she began to fear that Their
). was nothing in it for her. Fathers o
: little children forget in their unkindn ss
Q that they are profaning the dearest NAM
= deny his tender care.
Jenny Wray hardly knew what she wa
thinking; and yet it was that terribl
doubt of the great goodness that watche
over Us, and secret wish that she hat
never been born; when lifting her eye
from the wayside where she sat, she saw
a stranger near her. He was clothed il
wide trowsers, heavy pea jacket, and
sailors hat, and had the generous, opel
face of a jolly seaman, and long roll il
his gait as if he were walking a deck
The misty, gold light that surrounded tn
memory of that dear uncle, lost long age
= kept her eyes from seeing even. enough t
remind her of him in this stranger, ant
she was about to shrink away and get GU
Of sight, when, with a smile on his wealth
er-beaten face, the man came up saying
"Stay bit, my little woman; don't
slip your cable yet" Gas much as to say
Don't leave YETI
The little old child turned up her sac
eyes and said, "Sir? ?" as if to know wha
he wanted and he, looking at her witt
one question in his eyes, put another wit
his mouth: d.
"Can you tell me Miss, if one JONATHAN
Wray, a cranky old hulk, ties up here
about?"
Startled by the name, but not quite un
Outstanding the question, all that Jenn
did was to shiver and say "Sir! ," agair
The stranger inquired plainly:
"Does Jonathan Wray 1--we near here ?
And he looked at Jenny with that othe
question in his eyes, which waa, II wor
der if you are little Jenny Wray? Poo
thingP'
And Jenny answered both questions a
oHce: m
Eyes, sir; he is my father"
The old sailor caught hsr up in bot
arms with q great hug that quite scare
her at first.
"Ho thought so thought so !! An
where's old Uncle J oe %, ell Where's oil
Uncle Joe ?" And he laughed and shoe
with glee 1T his own question
"He's drowned, sir, gasped Jenny, try
ing feebly to get out of his great arms.
mot bit of it, lassie.i Not hit of i
Do look like ghost? Kiss your oil
uncle. I'm Joe. am. Don't you believ
it," And he dropped Jenny, and bega
to draw up from his deep pockets oranges
pecan nuts, figs, fnery, and silver coins
and tumbled them into poor Jennys lar
= as she sank back again upon messy rock
and all the while filled her ears with NOR
childish memories than we could print il
a whole page of the Banner.
Jenny was sure enough then that Uncl
b Joe had come to life again, and her hap
n py days had really come. Uncle Joe new
IS er left her again, and she never doubte
u the good Father over us any more.
% -" -"
81 II HAVE NO INFLUENCE"