The St. Cloud journal. [volume] (St. Cloud, Minn.) 1866-1876, 1872-07-18

"You speak very reasonably, ovn,
sir" said I, not yet quite convinced.
fstill, perhaps she may"
my poor girl, l told you not to
hope" said the doctor, interrupting me.
lie went to Mary, and lifted up her
eyeel'ds, and locked at her eyes whilo
no spoke, then added 'If you still
doubt how she caue by that blow, do
not encourage the idea that any words
OF hers will eulighten you. She will
never speak sgain."
"Not dead o, sir, don't say she's
deaaw
"She is dead to pain and sorrow
dead to speech and recognition. There
is more animation in the life of the fee.
blest insect that flies, than in the life
that is left in her. When you look at
her now, try to think that she is in
Heaven. That is the best comfort I
can give you, after telling the hard
truth"
did not believe him. I could not
believe him. So long as she breathed
at all, SO long I was resolved to hope.
Soon after the doctor was gone, Sally
came in again, and found me listening
Gf1 may call it SOY at Mary's lips.
She went to where my little hand glass
hangs against the wall, took it down
and gave it to me.
"See if the breath marks it," she
said.
Yes; her breath did mark it, but
very family. Sally cleaned the glass
with her apron, and gave it back to
me. As she did 50, she half stretched
out her hand to Mary's face, but drew
it in again suddenly, as if she was afraid
Of soi|ing Mary's delicate skin with
her hard, horny fingers. Going out,
she stopped at the foot of the bed, and
scraped away little patch Of mud that
was on one of Mary's shoes.
81 always used to clean 'em for her."
said Sally, "to save her hands from
getting blacked. May take 'em off
now, and clean 'em again ?"
nodded my head, for my heart was
too heavy to speak. Sally took the
shoes off with slow, awkward tender
ness, and went out
An hour or more must have passed,
when, putting the glass over her lips
again, J saw no mark on it. l held it clos.
er and closer. I dulled it accidentally
with my own breath, and cleaned it.
I held it over her again. 0, Mary,
Mary, the docto: was right ! I ought
to have only thought OF you in Heav-
en-!
Dead, without word, ~ithout
sign,-without even look to tell the
true story Of the blow that killed her !
could not call to anybody, I could rot
so much as put the glass down and give
her kiss FOR the last time. I don't
know how long I had sat there with
my eyes burning, and my hands dead
ly cold, when Sally came IN with the
shecs cleaned, and carried carefully in
her apron for fear of soul touching
them. At the sight Of that
I can write 40 more. Ny tears drop
so fast On the pcper that I can see moth
ing.
March 18th. She died on the af.
ternoon Of the eighth. On the morn
ing of the ninth. wrote, as in duty
bound, to her setepmother, at Hemmcr-
smith. There was no answer. I wrote
again my letter was returned to me
this morning, unopened. For all that
woman cares, Mary mi eht be buried
with pauper's funeral. But this
shall never be, if pawn everything
about me, down to the very gown that
is on my back. The bare thought of
Mary being buried by the workbouse
gave me the spirit to dry my eyes, and
60 to the undertaker's and tell him
how I was placed. l said, if he would
get me an estimate of all that would
have to be paid, from first to last, for
the cheapest decent funeral that could
be had, would undertake to raise the
money. He gave me the estimate,
written in this way, like common
bill:
A walking funeral complete 1898
Vestry . 4 4
Rector D 4
Clerk l 0