Alpena weekly argus. [volume] (Alpena, Mich.) 1871-1893, 1877-03-21

give him some air. Poor man !
But he's nobody to blame but him
self, after all. / don't uphold DISC
bedience in children, of course ;
but deared, sweeter girl than his
daughter, Margaret was her name,
never was. Many and many's the
time I've carried her in my arms,
when she was a baby, and her
mother was alive. How are you
feeling now, sir 7"
This last sentence was addressed
to her master, who, with a deep
drawn sigh, opened his eyes.
"What, what is the matter :" he
said, looking vacantly from one to
the other. "Yes! | remember"
Putting his hand to his brow.
Margaret"
His eye, wandering about, fell on
the boy, who, during this episode,
had entirely recovered conscious
ness, and was now looking up, and
with a strange sort of wonder, at
Mr.. Ascot.
"Please, sir" said the lad, seeing
he had attracted the old mans eye,
"can you tell me where Mr.. Ascot
livesl I was to go to him-only ]
lost my way-mother's very sick
and she's had nothing to eat to-
day"
With these words he broke down,
with a great sob, the tears stream
ing along his thin, wan cheeks.
"Where's the note-the notep
~Order the carriage" said Mr..
Ascot, incoherently, rising to his
feet. "Is it from Margaret Did
somebody say she was starving =
His poor weak. shaking hands
vainly tried again to unfold the pa
per, which the policeman handed
to him. "I-I am not as strong as
| used to be. l think / am getting
old" and he looked piteously at
Mrs. Somers, and sank again on
the sofa.
"Drink this, sir" said the house
keeper, handing him restorative
He drank it and rallied. "Ah
| it is her-her hand writing" speak
ing to himself. "She is widow.
Her only child is named after
after me"
He stopped reading, and turned
to look at the boy.
"Are you grandfather ~ said the
latter, timidly. 81 think you mus
be, for my mother has a picture
she looks OF, and cries over, anC
it's like you
The letter fell again to the floor
But this time it was because b,
opened his arms, and the boy
catching his meaning, came to him
"You won't let her die, will you :
said the boy, looking piteously in
to his face.
"Die, die p cried the old man
rising up; and his voice and al
were that of youth. "She sha
not die. Where is the carriage !
will go at once. She shall com
home tonight. The carriage,I say
$ he cried, almost angrily, and h
{ turned toward the door, wher
: the footman now appeared.
4 "The carriage waits, SIR sal
: the servant, obsequiously.
: "Get your cloak and bonne
Mrs. Somers. A few blankets
J. bit of food-not minute to los
g Good God! Margaret dying, al
we wasting our time here. No, u
/; brave little fellow" he said, "yo'
/. mother shall not die"
d In a few minutes, daring viii,
IS the thoughtful housekeeper h
m provided a biscuit and some t
n, for the boy, and the little party $
,e forth. While the carriage is ro
RS ing over the snow, its destiuati
)r being one of the most distant a
te obscure streets of the great metz
le polls, let US say few words abe
T. the daughter.
l." Margaret Ascot had been one
as those sweet tempered, sympathe
II, natures, that everybody low
g. Beautiful, accomplished, wealth
be and well-born, she had crowds
nd suitors but at nineteen she turn
lis from them all, and gave her he
er to a penniless lover, This was
&c. because she was foolishly romant
ny like so many others; 7; but beca'
We her suitor was worthy Of her
k every way, except in riches.
III, was only a poor music teacher,
a = :.