The weekly Shasta courier. [volume] (Shasta, Calif.) 1872-190?, 1873-08-30
Old Margaret's Boy.

There are certain feminine instincts that
assume in many eyes the character rather
of virtues than of instincts, and the manfes-
tation Of which in any individual seems
to touch all other women nearly.
Among these instincts, so to call them, is
that maternal one which causes the year
old baby to hold her mothers needle book
or roll of work on her little breast and hush
it off to sleep, which causes her half dozen
years afterward to wake up in the night
and see if her doll is warm enough, and
which, score of years later yet, knts tie
between herself and every tender little child
she sees. A strange tie, without the i'm
mense joy of mothers love-that Joy
which compensates all suffering, which over
flows the inner cells of the most desolate
heart with vital warmth, which is fulfilled
with satisfaction and with that ineffable
yearning where earth touches close on heav-
en-a barren tie beside that divneIy COM
plete thing, and with more pain than pleas
ure in it. 1t is as if the bitter lot of WON
en- in this world caused them to feel the
pathos of the fate of every child born into it,
and gave them a pity that is all but love.
Little butterfly in the sunshine and among
the flowers" it seems to say, "by-and-by
night is coming, darkness and heavy dew
and the nicht hawk. If only I couid pro-
tect you!''
Whenever | used to see A little bent old
woman 90 by my window with a child in
her arms. those and kindred thoughts would
follow her. | did not know her name. and
| could not see her face but she interested
me far more than the briybt. checked and
golden haired younp creatures that trimmed
bv ON their wav to school. Her clean but
utterly faded calico was so short that if
showed the clumsy village ties and drab
stockings of her knobby and rheumatic feet
her shawl was a threadbare black blanket
her bonnet was A RUSTY poke: an alpaca
apron was her only vanity her moor old
hands were bare and bony and mIsshanen.
but they seemed to me fairer than apy idle
lady's in the land when I saw the wav in
which they clasped the child she held the
way in which as she walked she used to
pause and lit the child higher and lay the
little face against her own, and step off
again as if she were Young and happy.
Day by day saw her pass. As the child
grew, and sat M in her arms and Looked
about. she would straighten her bent form
to bear him more erectly. Often she would
kiss him rapturously as she went along, and
she was always grooming some low tune to
him, or talking loving gibberish that he
seemed to understand Evidently the child
had no mother, perhaps no father either.
for he was clothed in odds and ends a
great sacque and hood wrapped him for
long time and when the spring came. his
head emerged with the short yellow curIs
crowned by hat that seemed to deliobt
him, so often he tore it off with his Gtfle
hands to look at it, and set on again awry.
but which she must have rescued from an
ash barrel, and have secured, and trimmed
with scraps of cambria from her rag bag. I
longed to ask them in while they were slow
" going by but have an uncomfortable
reverence for reserves. and | fancied she
was one of those who had rather sutFar than
be seen to suffer. But when the bahv
grew so heavy that she had to rest evory
little while. she sat down one dav nm NV
garden stem and then Ionened the door -
90 out. and stoned and made friends
with the child. and gave him a Gun of
milk and a cake. and began with her an
acquaintance which if do not in anoth.
er life resume. il will be because am not fit
Years and wears 400 old Narparpt Twins
had been younp IL seems as tbor,b No ono
could pua.s the fact were if not Mainly stat.
cd so CAV and wrinkIad and seamoJ uas
the face with which sba Looked mn az Won
Years and wears apo she said once .I,,s
hard to believe if now whom vor SEQ mo
child but every wrinkle is a care and every
furrow is tear, There were no wrinkles
nor burrows, no cares nor tears-it was all