Daily Kennebec journal. [microfilm reel] (Augusta, Me.) 1870-1975, 1874-01-31
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MRS. FLOWERS FURS.
oscrrpfp FROM rEsrERDAY.l

cold winter; furs are rery warm' anu i. "ii
growing old. Besides, my husband WISHES
K Shall I wound his feelings NO IN
deed. - And the dame for the moment
felt strong in conscious virtue.
Little, however, would conscience hSten
to this reasoning. She scorned it. 'Coid J!
replied she sternly. There are less ex-
pensive ways Of keeping warm. some
thing short Of furs at four hundred dollars
can do it. What you say about your nus
band is mere excuse. II he sees you
truly content he will be satisfied.
But pleaded keen Desire, II nave
for years so wished for just these things.
can't give them up. Why shonld MOI
near me that 7 should thus deny myself
the gift my husband gives me-"
shutting step at the door, followed
nv a knock. interrupted the disturbed think
Come in" she cried, rising from her
chair.
The door opened, and distant neigh
Dor entered, an ill-favored ungainly man,
noted for his harsh temper and his penuri-
Gus soul. Mrs. Flowers greeted him with
surprise but he soon explained his errand.
Something was amiss with his horse gear
and, seeing light, he had come to bor-
row lantern.
f. I'm on my way to to the poor house,
he said, with sour grin. 'When came
home, at shutdown, what should find but
a worthless brat my wife had taken in,
and she was actually hoping Ia let her
keep it. Keep it, indeed The little rat
was with company of tramps the con.
stable is after. So guess they were glad
to drop it on the road. My wife. like
fool, believes the child's gable, and says
they left her because they couldn't make
her lie and steal. She'd do it as fast as the
rest, I'll venture to say. Her tale is, that
she has no father nor mother, nor any one.
and them tramps picked her up. don't
believe a word of it. So, when l came
home,-though I'd been to the mill. and
it was late, Il says, says l. she don't sleep
in my house a single night. I'll have her
where she. belongs before daylight, as sure
as nv names Peter Turner So as soon
as had done my chores, hitched up and
started with her. Then the pesky harness
broke, and, altogether, I've had more
than my share of trouble with her.
There's the lantnrn hanging on that
nall" said Mrs. Flowers, shortly.
sIll be back in minute" he grutiiy
answered, and after lighting it, opened
the door. He drew back with muttered
OATH "What did you follow me here
for ?" he growled.
A little child stood on the threshold.
Her wan, wild-eyed face, surrounded by
pale golden locks. falling on her emacia-
ted shoulders, might have moved heart
to pity Peter Turner's was too small to
contain so expansive an emotion but Mrs.
Flowers rejoiced in a larger organ OF cir
culation.
.Come in, child she cried, in her cor
dial voice, advancing and stretching out
her hand. Then, turning to Peter, You
can leave her here till you bring back the
lantern"
He made some surly response and dis
appeared. The dame drew the child to
the fire the little. trembling thing gazed
at it earnestly as she crouched before it,
and spread her blue hands to the generous
blaze. What had stamped its mark upon
her; but, though it had dimmed her eyes
and followed her infant cheeks. it had
failed to destroy the impress she bore of
pure soul.
''See her :" cried Conscience. lis there
not a suffering creature near you now
Will you tell me again there is no need to
sacrifice your besetting sin ?'
Mingling with her voice came those
sweet and gracious words spoken eighteen
hundred yeas ago, and which still breath
their accents through this sin-troubled
world as clearly as when first uttered:
''Inasmuch as We did it unto the least Of
those, We did it unto me -
The childless woman and the motherless
child looked into each others faces, each
with longing questioning gaze.
"You are not afraid of me, child, are
you?" she asked, laying her hand gently
on the little ones shoulder.
''No" replied the child. mot Of you ~
and she touched with the timid finger the
good woman's soft cheek; ''but am of
him p CHANGING wildly toward the door
HE is taking me to the poorhouse, she
whispered, with dropping head and trcm-
bling like dying bird.
mot one step shall you go.'' cried the
true-hearted, motherly soul, and she clasp
ed the desolate little creature to her warm
breast.
Great was Mr.. Peter Turner's disgust
on his return with the lantern. $50 you
are opening refuge for stray thieves are
you. Mrs. Flowers" he asked sccrnlully
All have to say is, if Mr.. Flowers likes
to spend his earnings that way, | don't.
But IN help you along" he added with
cutting irony. whenever | see any
stragglers there's a warrant out again, I'll
send 'em on to you - And with that Par
THAN dart he went his way.
Mr.. Flowers, deeply sunk in repose, was
profoundly unconscious of the sudden ad-
dition to his family. He was aroused by
his wife pulling his whiskers, and saying
she had something to show him. After
struggling in ''.lumber's chain for a few
moments, he managed TO open his eyes
sufficiently to discover the sharer Of his
griefs and joys seated on the side oil the
bed. holding on her arm Il sleeping child,
whose golden head nestled on her BOSOM
Mr.. Flowers stared blankly at this sur
prising sight. He was Just celebrating
whether he might be dreaming, when a
sharp pinch from the excited Mrs. Flowers
quite convinced him that she, at least. was
''airy nothing"
"Reuben my dear" said she. ''you gave
me four hundred dollars to buy furs to
keep myself warm, didn't you?"
yes" returned the perpexed bene-
factor. land to look handsome in. he
added, absently, as an alterthought.