Buchanan County bulletin. [volume] (Independence, Iowa) 1869-1891, 1875-10-22
CAST THY BREAD UPON THE
WATERS.
BY EMMA GARRISON JONES.

BY EMMA GARRISON JONES.
"Only five dollars left!'
Mrs. Grayson smoothed ont the
crisp, green bill in her fingers and
sat down before the waning fire with
a dreary sigh.
Only five dollars lett. The last
bill of her poor husbands wages, and
he lying in the little back bedroom,
with his shoulder dislocated by that
dreadful fall-down for the winter
so the doctor said.
Only five dollars and the coal bin
empty, and the bitter December wea-
ther at its worst, and three little curly
heads nestled down in the trundle-
bed, with three little hungry mouths
that must be fed, and three pairs OF
restless feet that must have shoes and
stockings.
A dreary prospect, truly. The poor
mother folded and untolded the crisp
green bill in her tired fingers, irreso-
lutely, and the tears rose in her eyes
as she glanced toward the halt-closed
room in which her husband lay
She caught the sound of his voice
moaning as if in pain, and started to
her feet He must have food and
medicine, and the wintry night was
closing in.
She caught up her shawl and hur-
ried out, closing the door after her
Down the frozen, icy street. the keen
blast driving the sleet and rain III her
face, into the low, noisome thorough
/ fare that led to the coal yard.
| She was unused to that portion of
the town, and the sight Of the squal-
lid dwellings,, and the ragged women
and children, and the loathsome fume
of whisky and tobacco, made her sick
and faint.
She was burrying on with quicken
ing steps down toward the smoky
wharf, where the coal boats disgorg-
ed their contents, when shrill cry, Il
woman's cry of agony arrested her
attention.
She was passing a restaurant, and
the cry proceeded from its door,
about which a group Of degraded and
besotted men were congregated.
Mrs. Grayson paused almost invol-
unfairly in her rapid walk.
"Oh, don't-don't take my boy to
Jail! he's innocent tell you he's
innocent" cried woman's voice in
imploring accents; end at the same
moment the woman herself came IN
view, a poorly-clad, but decent look
ing person, with a sturdy little lad
clinging to her hand
/ 81 tell you my boy is innocent-he
never stole your money, and you
shan't take him to jailw she cried, in
piteous accents, trying to get her son
through the crowd.
But man in the garb of an officer
followed in her steps, and the keeper
Of a vile den rushed out in front of
her with clenched fists and glaring
eyes.
"And tell you he shall go to Jail"
he thundered. Hes got my money,
the young sneak, and he won't give
it up. He's stole my money and he
shall CO."
81 didn't steal your money, sir"
replied the lad, his clear young eyes
blazing with Indignation, II didn't
touch it, you know didn't. Pm not
thief"
"Silencer roared the dealer in
rum. "Don't stand there and tongue
me. Officer, do your duty. Arrest
him."
The officer quickened his steps and
laid his hand Oh the boys arm.
ooh, don't! Oh, for the love of
Heaven, don't take him from mel
He's all I've got, and tomorrow his
father comes home from over the
seas. Twill break his heart to find
his only son in jail. Don't take him
from me-"
The landlord had heart, but it
was terrible hard. He was used to
tears and entreat:es, for day by day,
while Heavens bright sun shone, and
night by night, while Heavens holy
stars glittered, he tippled rum for
livelihood-measured and sold liquid
by the glass-full, to send mems souls
to ruin, and break the hearts of low
ing women.
e'Give me back my money then,
and he may go Free" he said sui
lenly.
But the poor mother only wrung
her hands in answer.
81 haven't got it," she cried, 81
haven't five dollars in the wide world,
but wait till run home, and Pll sell
the last thing l own to raise it, and
keep my boy from prison.
Mrs. Grayson had heard the whole,
standing in the bitter winter rain
She advanced to the poor mothers
side, and pnt her hand upon her arm
gently.
"My frlend," said she, 81 wish l
could help you, but am poor myself.
But why did you suffer your boy to
come near this dreadful place."
"Ah, why did II" walled the poor
creature. "Whcn the father was at
home he never tasted drop, and he
would shun grog shop like a snakes
den; but he's gone over the seas, the
father has, and we got short O bread,
and the little mouths at home be hun
CRY, end poor Johnnie tried to help
bit doing chores for the landlord
yonder. And now he calls him a
thief and sends him to Jail, and his
father a-lying in Boston harbor. Oh,
they shan't take him from me. Mad
am, for Heavens sake, if you have a
son of your own, pity me-"
Mrs. Grayson had son at home, a
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