Grant County herald. [volume] (Lancaster, Wis.) 1850-1968, 1877-09-13

will not desert her post so / leave
her watching and retire TO my soli-
tary chamber.
When we meet in the morning |
fad that the little old woman has
spoken few words and seems
stronger. Come in with me now
says my wife, and let us try to find
out who she u.s. We fipd her prop
ped into reclining posture with
pillows, and Mary beside Ter feed
ing her.
sHow are you now?' asks Jesse,
bending over her.
Better, much better, thank you,
good lady, she says in voice which
tremhles from age as well as weak
ness, and very grateful to you for
your goodness.
| hear at once by the accent that
she is English.
Are you strong enough to tell me
how you got lost on the moor, and
where you came from, and where
you were going continues my wife.
'Ah | was going to my lad, my
poor lad, and now | doubt | shall
ever sec him more says the poor
soul. with long sigh of WEAKNESS.
'Where is your lad, aud how far
| have you come?
sMy lad is soldier at Fort George.
and | have come all the way from
Liverpool TO see him, and give him
his old mothers blessing before he
goes TO the Indies And then bro
kenly, with long pauses of weari.
ness aud weakness, the little old
woman tells US her pitiful story
Her lad, she tells us, is her only
remaining child. She had sig, and
this, the youngest, is tho only one
who did not die of want during the
Lancashire cotton famine. He grew
up fine handsome boy, the com.
fort and pride of his mothers heart.
and the stay of her declining years.
But a'strike' threw him out of work,
and unable 20 endure the privation
and misery in q fit of desperation he
elisted.' His regiment was quarter
ed at Fort George, and he wrote reg
uIarly to his mother, bis letters gets
ting more cheerful and hopeful every
day until suddenly be wrote to
say that his regiment was ordered
to India, and begged her to send
her blessing, as he had not enough
money to carry him to Liverpool to
see her. The aged mother widow
ed and childless, save for this one
remaining boy, felt that she must
look on his face once more before
she died. She begged from few
ladies, whose kindness had kept her
from the work-house, sufficient
money to carry her by train to
Glasgow and from thence she made
her way, now on foot, now begging
| q lift in passing cart or wagon, TO
within few miles of Fort George,
when she was caught in the snow,
storm, and wandering from the
road, would have persisted in the
snow-but for Laddie.
My wife is in tears, and Mary is
sobbing audibly, as the little old
woman concluded her simple and
touching story, and | walk TO the
window and look Out for moment
before | am able to ask her what
her sons name is. As | tell
her that we are but few miles
from Fort George, and that l will
send over for him, smile of extreme
content ilIumines her withered face.
His name is John Salter,' she says,
He is tall, handsome lad they
will know him by that
| hasten down stairs and write a
short note to Col. Freeman, whom
[ know intimately, informing him of
the circumstance, and begging him
that he will allow John Salter to
come over at once, and | dispatch
my groom in the dog cart, that he
may bring him back without loss of
time. As return to the house af-
ter seeing him start | meet DR. Bruce
leaving the house.
Poor old soul, he says, 'her
troubles are nearly over she il sink
ing fast. l almost doubt whether
she will live till her son comes.
How she conld have accomplish.
cd such journey at her age, | can
not understand | observed.
Nothing is impossible to a moth.
err answers Dir. Bruce but 1t has
killed her
[ go in, but | find cannot settle
TO my usual occupations. My
thoughts are with the aged heroine
who was dying upstairs, and pres
emily | yield to the fascination
which draws me back to her pres
ence.
AS DIR. Bruce says, she is sinking
fast. She lies back on the pillows,
her checks as ashy gray as her hair.
She clasps my wife's hand in hers,
but her eyes are wide open, and
have an earnest expectant look in
them.
AT what time may we expect
them whispered my wife to me.
'Nct before four answer iD the
same tone.
He will be too late, l fear she
says ohO 10 SOeNi"S ANPAolJ "S"nSA'
But love is stronger than death,
and she ,0iH not go until her son
comes. All through the winters
day she lies dying, obediently TAX
ing what nourishment is given to
her, but never speaking except to
say tMy lad, my lad God is good
He will not let me die until he
COMES
And at last hear the dog cart, /
lay my finger on my lip and tell
Mary to go and bring John Salter
up very quietly. But my caution is
needless the mother has heard the
sound, and with last effort Of her
remaining strength, she raises her.
self and stretches out her arms. My
lad, my lad = she gasps, as with
great sob be spings forward, and
mother and son are clasped in each
others arms once more. For mo-
ment they remain so. Then the lit
tie old woman sinks back on nv