Bradford opinion. [volume] (Bradford, Vt.) 1874-1881, 1877-08-04


know her face and I cannot imagin
what could bring a stranger to the moo
on such night"
As ! speak a change passes over he
face; the eyes unclose, and she looks in
quiringly about her. She tries to speak
but is evidently too weak. My wifi
raises her and gives her a spoonful o
nourishment, while she says soothingly
"Don't try to speak. You are anon,
friends; and when you are better yo,
shall tell us all about yourself. Lie still
now and try to sleep"
The gray head drops back YEARLY OF
the pillow; and soon we have the salts
faction of hearing by the regular respira
ton that our patient is asleep.
"You must come to bed now, Jessie,
I say. ~ shall ring for Mary, and sh,
can sit up for the remainder of the
night"
But my wife, who is tender.heartet
soul and a born nurse, will not desert
her post; so I leave her watching, and
retire to my solitary chamber.
When we meet in the morning l find
that the little old woman has spoken Il
few words, and seems stronger.
"Come in with me now," says my
wife, "and let us try to find out who she
is."
We find her propped into reclining
posture with pillows, and Mary beside
her feeding her.
"How are yon now?" asks Jessie,
bending over her.
"Better, much better, thank you, good
lady," she says, in voice which trem-
bles from age as well as weakness.
"And very grateful to you for your
goodness.
I hear at once by the accent that she
is English.
Are you strong enough to tell me
how you got ost on the moor, and where
you came from, and where you were 60
ing ?" continues my wife.
"Ah was going to my lad, my poor
lad, and now doubt I shall never see
him more" says the poor soul, with a
long sigh of weariness.
"Where is your lad, and how far have
YOU Gomez"
"My lad is soldier at Fort George;
and have come all the way from Liver
pool to see him, and give him his old
blessing before he goes to the
indies"
And then, brokenly, with long pauses
of WEAKNESS and weakness, the little old
woman tells us her pitiful story.
Her lad, she tells us, is her only re-
naming child. She had six, and this,
;he youngest, is the only one who did
1ot die of want during the Lancashire
'otton famine. He grew up fine. likely
10Y, the comfort and pride of his moth
RS heart, and the stay of her declining
ears. But n strike threw him out of
work, and unable to endure the priva-
ion and misery, in fit of desperation
le "Fsted." His regiment was quar-
cred at Fort George, and he wrote regu-
arly to his mother, his letters getting
more cheerful and hopeful every day,
Until suddenly he wrote to say that his
egiment was ordered to India, and beg
,ing her to send him her blessing, as he
lad not enough money to carry him to |
liverpool to see her. The aged mother,
and childless, save for this one
boy, felt that she must look
N his face once more before she died.
She begged from few ladies', whose
,indness had kept her from the work
louse, sufficient money to carry her by
rain to Glasgow; and from thence she
lad made her way, now on foot, now
'egging liftin passing cart or wagon,
o within few miles of Fort George,
Vhen she was caught in snow-storm,
nd wandering from the road, would have
erished in the snow-but for Laddie.
My wife is in tears, and Mary is sob
ing audibly as the little old woman con-
ludes her simple story and 1 walk to
he window and look ont for moment
efore l am able to ask her what her
on's name is. As I tell her we are
ut few miles from Fort George, and
hat I will send over for him, smile of
xtreme content il]umines the withered
Ice.
His name is John Salter," she says
he is a tall, handsome lad, they will
now him by that"
l hasten down stairs, and write
lort note to Colonel Freeman, whom
now intimately, informing him of the
and begging that he will
low John Salter to come over at once,
i'd 1 dispatch my groom in the dogcart
lat he may bring him back without loss
time. As return to the house, after
icing him start, meet DR.. Bruce leav-
e the house.
"Poor old soul," he says; cher
oubles are nearly over; she is sinking
st. I almost doubt whether she will
We till her son comes" .
"How she could have accomplished
lch a journey, at her age, cannot un-
observe.
" Nothing is impossible to q mother"
lswers DR.. Bruce "but it has killed
er."
I 60 in but find I cannot settle to
y usual occupations. My thoughts
e with the aged heroine who is dying
p stairs, and presently yield to the
scination which draws me back to her ,
resence.
AS DR.. Bruce says. she is sinking fast. |
ne lies back on the pillows, her cheeks ,
ashy gray ns her hair. She clasps
y wife's hand in hers, but her eyes are I
ide open, and have an eager, expectant
ok in them.
"At what time may we expect them?"
hispers my wife to me. c
"Not before FOUR" I answer in the j